"Silent Night, Whispered Sighs, A lone heart beats with secret cries."
.
The pungent scent of medicine and disinfectant filled the air as Doctor Ferguson carefully wrapped bandages around Belladonna's arm and wrist
The hospital ward was a labyrinthine room filled with rows of ornate, metal-framed beds, each adorned with crisp, white linens and surrounded by curtains that shimmered like moonlit silk. The walls were lined with shelves, bearing an assortment of peculiar medical contraptions, glowing vials, and ancient tomes bound in worn leather.
"Done!" Ferguson exclaimed, dropping the first aid kit. "Feeling better now?"
Belladonna nodded, her smile seeming slightly off as her gaze remained fixed on the hunter lying unconscious next to the bed beside her. "Yes," she replied, her eyes still locked on him. "What did you inject into him, Doctor?"
Ferguson didn't reply to the question. Instead, he pulled down his mask to reveal a scar running from his lip to his jaw. "Did you know why he attacked?"
Belladonna nodded. "He asked if I was injured. And as you saw, it's just a scratch, not deep at all."
Ferguson's eyes narrowed. "I see. Then I'll need to analyze your blood."
"Why?" Belladonna asked, her brow furrowing.
Ferguson's expression turned incredulous. "Your blood triggered his attack! Just a scratch... But I wonder—"
The hunter suddenly sat up as he heard their conversation, his eyes fixed intently on Belladonna, whose expression he could not tell. But, he however, said, "I haven't taken blood in a hundred years," he said, his voice calm and measured. "That, combined with the wild behavior, which....Your blood... There's something in your blood."
Belladonna felt unsafe as he said these words.
"I'm glad the doctor injected me with a nerve toxin. I might have drained half your blood in one gulp."
The hunter's words again sent a shiver down Belladonna's spine, his calm demeanor only adding to the fear he inspired.
Ferguson frowned. "As a vampire, you should know better than to attack a human. If you don't like human blood, why not drain animals in the forest? There are plenty to choose from."
The hunter added completely lost in thought, "A lady with no ordinary blood type!"
Ferguson shot him an annoyed glance. "That's for me to determine."
As tensions escalated, Belladonna intervened. "Let's put our differences aside for now and approach this calmly. First, what's your name?" she asked the hunter.
With half-closed lids, and a sarcastic look to the question, He would be stunning if he dropped the brooding act, she thought.
"Draven," he replied slowly.
"I'm Belladonna."
"Alright."
His curt response made her want to instill a wonderful finger art on his cheek, but his beauty tempered her annoyance. Without his hat and cloak, Belladonna saw Draven's true appearance – slender face, thin lips, dark circles under his eyes, and a pointed nose she envied. His golden eyes and pallid skin made him stand out. Definitely, he wasn't human.
Draven's attire however caught her attention - a black turtleneck sweater and trousers, cinched with a belt tighter than she thought possible. But it was his silver boots that truly stood out. Crafted from refined leather and silver, they seemed worth a small fortune, at least five thousand gold coins. Yet, no one in their right mind would purchase such extravagant footwear, except perhaps this enigmatic hunter. However, the boots had their advantages, enabling him to move silently on the snow, a skill only a vampire hunter could possess.
"So, Mister Hunter Draven..." Belladonna began, as he ran his fingers through his hair.
"Just Draven," he corrected, his gaze still downward.
"Mister Hunter Draven" she repeated, her voice firm. "What will you do now? You need a full bag of blood to recover."
"I can't," he said, his voice low and resolute.
"Why?" Belladonna pressed.
Draven paused, turning away before responding, "I made a promise to a friend, years ago, to abstain from blood until my end."
Ferguson's expression turned skeptical. "You expect to survive without blood? As a vampire, you'll become a raging beast without it. Or maybe you've forgotten what happened earlier?."
Draven gaze turned icy. "I've sustained myself on normal food for years. You can't imagine the difficulty, but I've trained myself..."
"Listen!...."
His eyes widened as he felt a gentle touch on his hands. Belladonna held them with a lightness that surprised him, and for the first time, he didn't recoil from a physical touch.
"....You have every reason to fear breaking your promise. But my aunt Mae always said, 'A promise to avoid chaos must be broken if it causes more harm.'"
Draven listened intently, his eyes fixed on hers, as she continued, "Mister Headstone has entrusted you with a great responsibility, and your inner weakness might hinder your progress. Yet, you've done well so far. Now, it's time to make a promise to yourself."
Taking a deep breath. He withdrew his hand from hers and after second, he said, "I will try."
Belladonna smiled, pleased with his decision.
On the other hand, Doctor Ferguson approached a shelf, retrieved a blood bag, and tossed it to Draven. "In case you agreed," he said. "Use it wisely; I don't often draw blood from healthy patients."
Draven examined the bag, the red liquid sloshing inside. Ferguson's emphasis on "healthy patients" lingered, a subtle reassurance. He whispered, "Maybe she's right."
The town's bell tolled suddenly and broke the silence. Ferguson frowned. "An emergency bell... I wonder why? It's winter's morning?"
Draven, already dressed, grasped his hat from the coat stand and turned to leave. "You're going?" Belladonna asked, surprised. "I have matters to attend," he replied, his eyes gleaming with a hint of sadness. "I apologize again, Lady Bella, for my earlier transgression."
With that, he left, leaving her with words of regret. But, Belladonna didn't see it like that. From her point of view, it sounded, "If you weren't in the way, I could have killed some of the beast by now."
"You owe me lots!" She stamped her feet and rushed after him, into the winter's chill. She observed the sky and it seemed a storm could indeed fall, casting a gloomy atmosphere over the town. As she followed Draven, the distant crowd in the town square grew louder, their voices weaving a sense of foreboding. The Vampire hunter hadn't gone far, so she decided to stay on his path, watching from the shadows as he approached the commotion.