Chapter 3
"Where are we going?" he asked between breaths.
She glanced back at him. "Somewhere safe. Just a bit further."
They approached a nondescript warehouse, its exterior weathered and unremarkable. Morrigan punched in a code on a hidden panel, and a door slid open. She ushered Kazuo inside.
The interior was a stark contrast to the building's exterior. Banks of computers lined the walls, their screens flickering with various data streams and video feeds. In the center of the room stood a large table, its surface covered with an array of weapons: rifles, pistols, knives, and even a few swords.
Kazuo's eyes widened as he took in the scene. "What is this place?"
Morrigan moved to one of the computer stations and started typing. "A safehouse. One of many."
While working, she reached for a pistol on the nearby table, checking its magazine before sliding it into a holster at her hip.
"Wait a minute," Kazuo raised his hands. "Can we back off for a bit."
"What is it?"
He pointed a finger in the air. "T...the fedora guy. How was that man still alive? I saw his brains blow out right in front of me. How is that possible."
"It's simple," Morrigan turned to face him. "That's because the man was a vampire."
Kazuo blinked and was sure he had misheard the last word. "I'm sorry, I think I had a mild stroke there. Did you say a vampire?"
"Yes I did."
"Is this some kind of joke?"
"No joke," Morrigan replied, turning back to the monitors. "And they're after you."
"After me? Why? I don't understand."
Morrigan swiveled one of the monitors. On the screen was a detailed analysis of blood samples. "It's because of this."
Kazuo leaned in, squinting at the data. "My blood? What about it?"
"Your blood can kill vampire cells," she explained. "When the vampire clans discovered this, they sent assassins to hunt you down."
"You can be serious, right? This is insane. How did you even get my blood sample?"
"From your annual physical exam for your company."
His jaw dropped. "You hacked my medical records?"
Morrigan shrugged. "It was necessary."
"Necessary? You invaded my privacy!"
"Would you prefer I let the vampires kill you?"
Kazuo opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. Vampires? It sounded like something out of a bad movie, not real life. Yet, he couldn't deny what he'd seen with his own eyes - a man surviving a shot to the head, displaying inhuman strength and speed.
He glanced at Morrigan, who continued working at the computer station. Her calm demeanor in the face of such outlandish claims only added to his confusion. Who was she, really? And what was her stake in all of this? The fact that she had access to his medical records and seemed to know so much about him was unsettling.
As for his work, he felt a pang of frustration. He had been on the verge of breaking a major story, and now he was caught up in... whatever this was. How could he continue his investigation while apparently being hunted by supernatural creatures?
The absurdity of the situation threatened to overwhelm him. He was a journalist, trained to deal with facts and evidence. If vampires were real - and that was still a big 'if' in his mind - then there had to be a logical explanation, some way to understand and document their existence.
For now, he decided, the smartest move was to play along. Whether Morrigan's claims were true or not, someone was clearly after him, and she seemed to be the only one offering protection. He would gather information, observe, and try to make sense of this bizarre turn of events.
So, for the sake of argument, and his own survival, he would accept the existence of vampires - at least until he could prove otherwise.
"Okay, let's say I believe you about the vampires. Why me? What's so special about my blood?"
Morrigan turned back to the computer, pulling up more data. "Your blood contains a unique protein that acts as a potent toxin to vampire cells. We're not sure why, but it's likely a genetic anomaly."
"We? Who's 'we'?"
"Vampires."
Kazuo laughed, a sharp, humorless sound. "Wait, so you're telling me that you're a vampire yourself?"
Morrigan's silence was telling.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Kazuo muttered.
"I know it's a lot to take in," she said. "But right now, we need to focus on keeping you alive."
"Then, tell me this, if you're one of them, why are you keeping me alive? Shouldn't you kill me as well?"
"I have my reasons."
"And what reasons are those?"
"I'll tell you when the time is right."
"Great. Just great," Kazuo slumped into a nearby chair, his head in his hands. "This morning, I was worried about deadlines and exposing corrupt politicians. Now I'm hiding from vampires. How is this my life?"
Morrigan approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry you've been dragged into this. But you're not alone. I'll protect you."
Kazuo crossed his arms. Despite the absurdity of the situation, he found himself believing her. "Not to be rude and all, but you're only one vampire and there's an army of them hunting me. How are you going to protect me?"
"Who says I'm alone?"
"Really? You have someone helping you? How many?"
Morrigan reached for a great sword, pulling it halfway out of its sheath before returning it in it's place. "Just my familiar. Siobhán."
"So two?" Kazuo gestured with his hand.
She turned to face him. "Well, I got some more allies, but for now, it's just us two."
"Ok, considering the odds of success here, I think it's pretty safe to say that I'm fucked. I might as well turn myself in to those that are hunting me."
Morrigan held her gaze on him for a brief moment before turning and pointing in the air. "Go ahead. There's the exit. Kill yourself. No one's stopping you."
"Are you being serious?"
"I am. If you want to be vampire food, then by all means go ahead. You think I care if you die?"
"Jeez, I was only kidding," Kazuo looked away, unwilling to meet her stare.
"I'm risking my life to save yours and you're complaining? I'm not the one who's going to lose everything here. If you die, it'll just be another day for me."
"Ok, you've made your point," he said. " So what do we do now?"
"We prepare," Morrigan said, gesturing to the weapons on the table. "Can you shoot?"
"No. I got no idea how to shoot guns."
"Let's hope you're a quick learner," Morrigan picked up a pistol and holding it out to him. "Because your life may depend on it."
Kazuo stared at the pistol in his hand, its weight unfamiliar and unsettling. He'd never held a gun before, let alone fired one. The absurdity of it all hit him again, and he felt a hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat.
He could stay here, learn to shoot, and fight against creatures he'd thought were mere fiction. Or he could run. Just walk out that door and disappear. Maybe if he went far enough, hid well enough, these supposed vampires wouldn't find him.
But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew it was foolish. If Morrigan was telling the truth - and the events of the past few hours suggested she might be - then running would only delay the inevitable. These creatures had found him once; they could do it again.
Still, the alternative seemed equally insane. Fighting vampires? Him, Kazuo Tanaka, investigative journalist? He was used to battling corruption with words and exposés, not bullets and... whatever else you used against vampires. Stakes? Holy water? He almost laughed again at the thought.
And what about his work? The story he'd been pursuing, the corruption he'd been on the verge of exposing? Was he supposed to just abandon that? Let the guilty go free while he played action hero?
His gaze drifted back to Morrigan. Who was she, really? Why was she helping him? She claimed it was because of his blood, but that explanation felt incomplete. What if she had her own agenda? What if this whole blood toxin story was a fabrication, a way to manipulate him for some unknown purpose?
He thought about his boss, about the story he'd been working on. That was real. That was tangible. He had evidence, leads, a clear path forward. This... this vampire business was all smoke and mirrors, built on claims he couldn't verify and threats he couldn't see.
No, he decided. This wasn't his fight. He wasn't a warrior or a secret agent. He was a journalist. His weapons were his words, his camera, his ability to uncover the truth and share it with the world. That's how he made a difference. That's how he fought injustice.
With a sigh, Kazuo placed the gun back on the table which drew Morrigan's attention.
"What are you doing?" she walked towards him, her brow furrowing.
"I'm not doing this," Kazuo said. "I can't just... pick up a gun and start shooting down monsters. That's not who I am."
"You're kidding, right? I mean you saw a literal person stand up after he was shot in the head."
"I know, but maybe it's better that I do it myself."
"What do you mean?"
"Like hide on my own," Kazuo made his way towards the door, but he paused and turned back to face her. "Look, I'm really sorry about this, but I don't know you well enough to trust you."
With that, he exited the place.
Kazuo walked briskly, putting distance between himself and that crazy woman. He desperately struggled to give her the benefit of the doubt, but her assertions were outlandish and verging on ridiculous. It was as if she had concocted a fantastical story in her head and then carelessly tossed it out like a scorching hot potato.
As he rounded a corner, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out, half-expecting to see a message from Morrigan. Instead, it was a response from Yuki Sato, the cybersecurity expert he'd reached out to earlier.
"Hey Kazuo, got your message. I can meet tomorrow at 14:00. There's a café called 'Le Pixel' near the Louvre. It's quiet and secure. See you there."
Kazuo quickly typed out a reply: "Perfect. Thanks, Yuki. I'll be there."
He pocketed his phone and continued walking, scanning the streets for any sign of danger. The fedora man's face kept flashing in his mind, along with the impossible sight of him surviving a shot to the head. He shook his head, trying to clear the image.
He needed a place to stay, somewhere safe and off the grid. His apartment was out of the question if Morrigan was to be believed. He pulled out his phone again, scrolling through his contacts. Most of his friends in Paris were journalists or sources - too risky to involve them in... whatever this was.
His thumb paused over a name he hadn't thought about in years: Amélie Rousseau. His ex-girlfriend from college. They hadn't parted on the best terms, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Fuck it," he muttered, pressing the call button.
The phone rang several times before a sleepy voice answered. "Allô?"
"Amélie? It's Kazuo. Kazuo Tanaka."
There was a pause on the other end. "Kazuo? It's been... what, five years?"
"Yeah, I know. Listen, I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this, especially so late, but I'm in a bit of a situation. I need a place to stay for a few days. Is there any chance I could crash at your place?"
Another pause, longer this time. "Are you in some kind of trouble?"
Kazuo hesitated. "It's... complicated. I can't really explain over the phone. But I promise I'm not in any legal trouble or anything like that. I just need somewhere to lay low for a bit."
He heard Amélie sigh. "You always did have a knack for getting into 'complicated' situations."
"I know, and I'm sorry to drag you into this. But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."
"Fine," Amélie said after a moment. "But you owe me an explanation when you get here. And this doesn't mean we're friends again, got it?"
"Got it. Thank you, Amélie. Really."
She gave him her address - she'd moved since college, but was still in the 15th arrondissement.
Kazuo hailed an autonomous taxi, giving it an address a few blocks away from Amélie's place. As the vehicle glided through the streets of Paris, he kept his eyes on the rearview cameras, watching for any sign of pursuit. Nothing. Everything seems normal.
Twenty minutes later, he was standing outside Amélie's apartment building. He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for an undoubtedly uncomfortable reunion. Then, he pressed the buzzer for her apartment.
"It's me," he said when she answered.
The door buzzed open, and he stepped inside and climbed the stairs. He had no idea what awaited him - an angry ex-girlfriend, vampire assassins, or maybe both. But for now, at least, he had a place to hide and figure out his next move.
As he reached the floor, he saw her standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, and there were lines around her eyes that hadn't been there in college. But her expression was the same exasperation and concern he remembered so well.
"You look like shit," she said by way of greeting.
Kazuo managed a weak smile. "It's been a long day."
Amélie stepped aside, letting him enter. "Come on in. You can sleep on the couch. And then you're going to tell me exactly what kind of mess you've gotten yourself into this time."
Kazuo nodded, stepping into the apartment. As she closed and locked the door behind him, he felt a small measure of tension leave his body. He was safe, at least for now.
"Thank you," he said. "I mean it. I know this is weird, but I really appreciate it."
She waved off his thanks. "Save it. Just don't make me regret this, okay?"
"I promise."
"You need anything?"
"No," he shook his head. "Just some blankets if that's ok."
As Amélie went to fetch some blankets for the couch, Kazuo sank into a nearby chair, the events of the day finally catching up with him. He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all. Vampires, secret safehouses, his blood being some kind of toxin - it was all too much to process.
But he was alive. And tomorrow, he'd start getting answers. For now, that would have to be enough.