Kiss of The Vampire
" The Girl With The Sharp Sword part 2"
Mission 13: Same face But Different him
Elisia couldn't shake it off, not even back at the safehouse with a hot shower scrubbing away the sewer grime and a mug of black coffee burning her tongue. The others crashed out in the bunk room—Kliev snoring like a chainsaw, Cymac meditating in the corner with his eyes half-closed, Ben probably staring at the ceiling like he did when his mind wouldn't quit. But she paced the dim hallway, the ache pulsing in her chest like a second heartbeat, raw and insistent. It wasn't just pain anymore; it felt alive, tugging at memories she didn't have, stirring emotions that hit her out of nowhere—sorrow so deep it made her eyes sting, a longing for something lost in the fog of her past.
She stopped in front of the mirror in the tiny bathroom, splashing cold water on her face, watching droplets trace lines down her cheeks. Her reflection looked back—dark circles under her eyes, the fresh bandage on her arm peeking from her sleeve, hair still damp and tangled. But behind that, in the quiet moments, the ache whispered louder. It wasn't random. It was connected to Cassian, to this hunt. Like he'd left that rose not just as a taunt, but as a breadcrumb meant only for her.
Slipping into the ops room, she dimmed the lights further and pulled up the Vaeloria files on the secure terminal. Mizuno had flagged them earlier, but she hadn't dug deep. Now, with the team out cold and the city humming faintly through the walls, she scrolled through the dossiers. House Vaeloria: old blood, European roots tangled in Philippine politics since the Spanish era. Persuasion gifts passed down like heirlooms, used to broker deals in boardrooms and bedrooms alike. Cassian's father, Lord Darius, a smooth operator with ties to the Senate—immortal charm masking ruthless control. And Cassian... the black sheep, turned young, rebellious, always pushing against the family's careful alliances with humans.
But as she read, the ache sharpened, blooming into flashes— not visions exactly, but feelings. A cool hand on her cheek, laughter echoing in a rain-slicked street, the metallic tang of blood mixed with desire. Her breath caught. What the hell? She rubbed her eyes, blaming exhaustion, but it kept coming. Grief twisted in her gut, real as the scars on her skin, for a connection she couldn't remember having.
She leaned back in the chair, heart racing. Maybe it was his persuasion leaking through somehow, even from a distance. Or worse—had he touched her mind before? The Bureau screened for that, but nobles like him played dirty, slipping under radars. She thought back to her early days on the team, the blurry months after her recruitment. Orphaned young, street-smart kid from Tondo who'd seen too much—vamps preying on the slums, turning friends into monsters. She'd joined up fueled by rage, but there were gaps. Blackouts she chalked up to trauma. Now, those gaps felt like doors cracking open.
A soft knock pulled her out. Ben, shirt rumpled, holding two fresh coffees. "Figured you'd be up. Mind if I join the insomnia club?"
She managed a weak smile, waving him in. "Pull up a chair. I'm... trying to make sense of this Vaeloria mess."
He sat close, their knees brushing, that familiar warmth cutting through her chill. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Talk to me, Lis."
She hesitated, staring at the screen where Cassian's photo stared back—those eyes, mocking, knowing. "This ache... it's not just stress. It started in the warehouse, got worse in the sewers. Feels like mourning someone I never lost. And now, with his name in the mix, it's screaming. Like he knows me, Ben. Personally."
Ben's face hardened, but his hand found hers, steady. "You think he's targeted you before? Messed with your head?"
"Maybe." She squeezed his hand, drawing strength from the calluses rough against her palm. "Or maybe it's deeper. I keep getting these... echoes. Touches, voices. Not mine, but they feel like they should be. What if he's not just building an army? What if I'm part of whatever twisted plan he's got?"
Ben didn't dismiss it, didn't try to logic it away like some captains would. He just nodded, eyes fierce. "Then we face it together. Dig into your files tomorrow, cross-reference with Vaeloria movements. If he's got a hook in you, we'll cut it out."
But as he spoke, the ache surged again— a wave of loneliness crashing over her, mixed with a forbidden thrill, like remembering a lover's betrayal. She pulled away gently, standing to pace again, the room feeling too small. Outside, dawn was creeping over Quezon City's rooftops, painting the skyline in soft grays and pinks, but down here, in her chest, the darkness lingered.
By morning, Mizuno had pulled strings for a psych eval—discreet, off-books—with a Bureau specialist who dealt in vamp mind games. Elisia sat in the sterile office, wired up to monitors that beeped softly, while the doc, a wiry guy named Torres, guided her through hypnosis-lite exercises. "Breathe deep. Let the feeling come. Describe it."
It hit like a flood. Under the calm, the ache unfolded into fragments: A moonlit balcony in Intramuros, stone cool under her feet. Cassian's face close, his voice a velvet murmur, promising power, eternity. Her laughter—god, her own laughter—echoing back. Then pain, sharp and betraying, as fangs pierced skin not in violence, but intimacy. She gasped awake, monitors spiking, Torres jotting notes furiously.
"Classic noble imprint," he said later, over instant noodles in the break room—his way of keeping it casual. "They call it a 'kiss of memory.' Persuasion layered with blood exchange. Not a full turn, but enough to bind. Leaves echoes, pulls you back like a drug."
Elisia's stomach dropped. "So he... bit me? And I don't remember?"
Torres nodded, sympathetic. "Likely. Erased the details, but the emotional residue sticks. That ache? It's the bond fraying, warning you—or drawing you. Depends on his intent."
Ben, listening from the doorway, clenched his fists. "Can we break it?"
"Time, or confrontation. Face him, sever it clean. But risky—nobles don't let go easy."
She felt violated, rage boiling under the grief, but also a sick curiosity. What had drawn her to him back then? A vulnerable moment, a hunt gone wrong? The gaps in her past suddenly loomed like abysses, filled with questions she wasn't sure she wanted answers to.
That night, as the team geared for another push—tracking leads to a Vaeloria safehouse in Makati—Elisia strapped on her vest with trembling hands. The ache thrummed like a compass, pointing straight to Cassian. Not fear, not entirely. Part of her ached to remember, to understand the pull. But the hunter in her? She wanted to end it, stake through the heart, reclaim whatever piece of herself he'd stolen.
As they rolled out into the humid evening, jeepneys blaring horns around them, she caught Ben's eye in the rearview. "Whatever this is," she said quietly, "it ends soon."
He nodded, grip tight on the wheel. "Damn right it does." But in her chest, the whisper lingered, soft and treacherous, like a lover calling her home.
The headache came out of nowhere.
Not a slow build, not the familiar throb that followed too much caffeine and too little sleep. This one was a spike driven straight through her temples, sharp enough to steal her breath. Elisia pressed her fingers hard against her forehead as the van lurched through traffic, neon signs smearing across the windows.
"Lis?" Ben glanced at her. "You good?"
"Yeah," she lied automatically. "Just—give me a sec."
The ache in her chest surged in answer, then something else layered over it. Pressure. Heat. Like a hand pressing against the inside of her skull.
Then a voice slipped through.
Not loud. Not commanding. Casual, almost amused.
"Well, this is awkward timing."
She sucked in a breath, knuckles whitening on her vest. The world tilted. The van, the noise, Ben's voice faded to the background like someone turning down a dial.
"What the hell—" she muttered.
The voice chuckled. A real chuckle, warm and dry, like someone enjoying a private joke.
"Relax. If I wanted you dead, this would be a much shorter conversation. And messier."
Her heart slammed against her ribs. This wasn't Cassian. There was no velvet persuasion, no seductive pull. This presence felt… heavier. Grounded. Like standing too close to something sharp and honest.
"Who are you?" she whispered.
Another pause, like the man on the other end was thinking how much to give her.
"Let's go with… an interested passerby. Think of me as the guy who trips over a crime scene and still decides to comment on the decor."
Pain flared behind her eyes, bright and blinding. Images tried to surface but slid away before they formed. She gritted her teeth.
"Not cool," she hissed. "Get out of my head."
"Oh, I am. This is me leaving." His tone softened, just a little. "But before I do, figured I'd give you a nudge. Consider it professional courtesy."
A flicker cut through the pain. Not a memory. A direction.
Cold glass under her palm. The smell of antiseptic and old money. A building rising above Makati traffic, all clean lines and mirrored arrogance. And beneath it, something rotten. Something hidden.
"You're chasing the rose," the voice said lightly. "But roses grow where the soil's been fed. You want him, don't look at the thorns. Look at what's buried."
Her head rang like a struck bell. She squeezed her eyes shut, breath coming fast.
"Be more specific," she snapped. "I hate riddles."
A low laugh. "Yeah, you really would."
Then, almost kindly, "Basements tell better truths than penthouses. And family men keep their sins close to where they feel safest."
The pressure eased, pulling back like a tide. The voice lingered just long enough for one last jab.
"Oh. And if you start wondering why I know this—don't. You're not ready for that headache."
Then he was gone.
Elisia gasped, body jerking forward as the van's motion slammed back into her senses. Ben was swearing under his breath, one hand already reaching for her.
"Lis! You just went pale as hell. Talk to me."
She blinked hard, vision swimming. Sweat dampened her collar despite the aircon. "I'm… here. I'm fine."
That was another lie, but she sat up anyway, forcing steadiness into her spine.
"What happened?" Ben asked quietly.
She hesitated. Saying it out loud made it sound insane. A stranger in her head, cracking jokes while handing her a lead like a bartender sliding a napkin across the counter.
"I think," she said slowly, "we're looking in the wrong place."
Ben studied her, reading the tension in her jaw, the way her hand trembled before she curled it into a fist. "You wanna explain that?"
"Not yet." She stared out the window as Makati's towers loomed closer, glass and steel catching the dying light. The ache in her chest shifted, tugging downward now, like a compass needle correcting itself. "But I've got a bad feeling Cassian's hiding where he thinks no one would dig."
"Basements?" Ben guessed.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Something like that."
As the van slowed, she felt it again. Not the seductive pull of the imprint. Not the raw ache of loss.
This was different.
The lingering sense of being watched by something that wasn't hunting her… but measuring her.
And somewhere, far enough away to be unreachable, a man she didn't know was probably smiling, having said just enough to tip the board without showing his hand.
The Makati safehouse looked exactly like what Cassian would use to laugh at them.
Clean lobby. Private security dressed like bored office guards. Cameras tucked into corners with just enough blind spots to feel intentional. Elisia clocked it all as they moved in, muscle memory carrying her forward while her mind stayed split—half on the mission, half on that lingering echo in her skull.
Basements tell better truths than penthouses.
She swallowed.
They breached fast. Kliev took point, door blown inward with controlled force. Cymac slipped past the smoke like a shadow, already muttering sigils under his breath. Elisia followed Ben down the hall, boots quiet against polished tile.
Nothing. Too quiet.
Her headache pulsed again, softer this time, like a warning tap instead of a hammer.
"Feels staged," Ben murmured.
"Yeah," she said. "He wants us comfortable."
They swept the upper floors in minutes. Empty offices. Clean beds. Blood bags stacked neatly in refrigeration units, all logged, all legal-looking. A performance of restraint.
Cassian's idea of a joke.
Then Elisia stopped dead in front of an elevator that required a biometric override.
No floor listed below parking.
Her chest tightened. "This one."
Kliev frowned. "No intel on sublevels."
"Doesn't matter," she said, already pulling out her kit. Her hands shook as she bypassed the panel, not from fear but anticipation. The ache in her chest had shifted again, pulling downward, insistent.
The elevator descended.
The air changed first. Cooler. Damp. Old stone under modern steel. When the doors slid open, the smell hit her—iron, antiseptic, something sweet rotting underneath.
The headache flared.
And then the lights cut out.
Emergency red strobes kicked in as alarms wailed. Steel shutters slammed down behind them, sealing the elevator. The floor ahead opened into a wide chamber carved into old foundations. Spanish-era stone reinforced with modern plating. Ritual markings burned faintly into the walls.
Ben swore. "Lis… this is bad."
Figures moved in the red light.
Vampires. Not feral, not noble. Turned muscle with dead eyes and surgical scars. Experiments. Cassian's discarded pieces.
They charged.
Elisia didn't think. She moved.
First one went down with a shot to the knee and a blade through the eye before it hit the ground. Second lunged from the side—she pivoted, slammed her elbow into its throat, felt cartilage give, then drove a stake up under its jaw. Blood sprayed warm across her face.
The ache surged with each kill, not satisfied, almost impatient.
Ben fought at her back, precise and brutal. Kliev roared as he plowed through two at once. Cymac's magic flared blue-white, freezing one mid-leap before shattering it into pieces.
More kept coming.
Then her vision blurred.
Not from exhaustion. From pressure.
The world tilted again, just for a second, and that voice slipped in like it had always been there.
"Oof. Yeah, that's a mess."
She snarled aloud as she ducked a swipe that would have taken her head off. "Not now."
"Relax. You're doing great. Bit murdery, but that's the job, right?"
Another vamp went down, her blade buried to the hilt. Her hands moved on instinct as she hissed through clenched teeth, "If you're not here to help, shut up."
A pause. Then, "Who said I wasn't?"
The headache spiked and then sharpened into focus. Her gaze snapped to the far end of the chamber, past the chaos, past the fighting. She saw it then—a seam in the wall that didn't belong. Old stone hiding a newer door. Locked, reinforced, warded.
And behind it—
Cassian.
Not physically. Not yet. But close enough she could feel him, like a phantom limb.
"Left wall," the voice said lightly. "Behind the fake history lesson. He's not hiding up top. Never was."
Her breath hitched. "You're enjoying this."
A low laugh. "A little. Watching nobles think they're clever never gets old."
A vamp tackled her from behind. She rolled, slamming it into the floor, crushing its skull under her boot. She scrambled up, heart hammering.
Ben shouted her name. "Lis! You're bleeding."
"I'm fine," she snapped, then pointed. "That wall. There's a door."
He trusted her without hesitation. Kliev was already moving, ramming charges into the stone. Cymac threw a containment spell as the last of the turned fell, twitching.
The explosion cracked the chamber open.
Dust and stone rained down, revealing a narrow corridor descending even deeper. The ache in her chest flared so hard it almost hurt to breathe.
The voice sighed, almost fond. "See? Basements."
"Who are you?" she demanded again, quieter this time, as the team regrouped.
A beat.
"Someone who's been where you're standing," he said. "And learned the hard way that some bonds don't break unless you tear them out yourself."
The presence began to fade.
"One more thing," he added, as if remembering. "When you see him, don't listen first. Don't let him talk. He's good at that."
Then silence.
Elisia stood there, chest heaving, blood drying on her skin. The corridor ahead felt like a throat leading straight to the truth she'd been circling for years.
Ben stepped beside her, squeezing her shoulder. "You ready?"
She nodded, jaw set, eyes burning.
"Yeah," she said. "Whatever he took from me… I'm taking it back."
And somewhere deep in the dark below Makati, something stirred, as if it had felt her decision and smiled.
The corridor sloped down like a buried artery, walls narrowing as they went. Old stone gave way to concrete, then to polished obsidian panels etched with sigils that pulsed faintly when Elisia passed. Each step tightened the ache in her chest, pulling, guiding. Her headache hadn't vanished. It had settled into a low, cruel pressure, like fingers pressed just behind her eyes.
"Anyone else feel like we're walking into a sermon?" Kliev muttered, weapon up.
"No," Cymac said quietly. "Just you."
Elisia barely heard them. Her breathing sounded too loud in her ears. Every few meters, something tugged at her senses. A scent. A half-familiar chill. The ghost of a touch at the small of her back that made her spine stiffen.
Not now. Don't listen.
The voice's warning echoed without the voice itself.
They reached a heavy door at the end of the corridor. Unlike the others, this one wasn't hidden. It wanted to be found. Dark wood reinforced with silver filigree, roses carved into the surface, thorns curling inward like claws.
Cassian's signature.
Ben looked at her. "Lis. You sure you want to be first through?"
Her hand hovered over the handle. It felt warm. Alive.
"I need to be," she said. "If he's here… he'll talk to me. Try to."
Ben nodded once. "We're right behind you."
She pushed the door open.
The room beyond was wide and circular, a converted crypt turned into something obscene and elegant. Candles lined the walls, their flames steady despite the ventilation hum. Blood sigils glowed faintly on the floor, layered and complex. At the center stood a single chair, ornate and old, with restraints worn smooth by use.
Empty.
For half a second, relief washed through her.
Then the headache detonated.
Elisia staggered, catching herself on the doorframe as pain lanced through her skull. Her vision fractured, colors bleeding into each other. The air thickened, heavy with presence.
Slow clapping echoed through the chamber.
"Still dramatic," a voice drawled from behind her. "I always liked that about you."
She froze.
Every instinct screamed at her not to turn. But she did anyway.
Cassian leaned against a pillar near the shadows, arms crossed, posture relaxed. Dark suit immaculate. Smile easy. Eyes bright with something dangerous and familiar.
"You look good, Elisia," he said softly. "Tired. Angry. But good."
Ben stepped forward instantly, weapon trained. "Back away from her."
Cassian glanced at him like an afterthought. "Ah. The loyal one. Still hovering."
"Shut up," Elisia snapped, pressing a hand to her temple as another wave of pain hit. "Don't talk."
His brows lifted, amused. "Straight to commands? That's new."
She clenched her jaw, forcing her breathing steady. Don't listen. Don't let him talk. The words felt slippery now, harder to hold onto.
"You left something in me," she said, voice shaking despite herself. "Something you had no right to."
His smile softened, and that scared her more than the mocking one. "I gave you something. You were breaking back then. I helped you survive."
A flicker of memory tried to surface. Rain. Laughter. Warmth cutting through fear.
Her headache flared viciously, like her mind rejecting the image.
"Stop," she hissed, blood trickling from her nose. "You don't get to rewrite it."
Cassian took a step closer. The air shifted immediately, pressure settling over the room like a held breath. "I never erased you, Elisia. I erased the pain. The fear. You begged me to."
"That's a lie," she said, but the certainty wavered.
Ben's hand brushed her arm, grounding, real. "Lis. Eyes on me. You're here."
She locked onto him, nodding once, then turned back to Cassian with a snarl. "Whatever you did, it ends tonight."
Cassian sighed, almost regretful. "You still don't understand. That bond? It's already dying. You feel it, don't you? That ache?" His gaze sharpened. "That's loss."
Rage burned through the pain, hot and clean. "Good."
She moved before he could say another word.
The first shot shattered the calm, ringing off stone as Cassian blurred aside, impossibly fast. The second clipped his shoulder, tearing fabric and flesh. He hissed, more surprised than hurt.
"Oh," he laughed. "You really did learn."
She advanced, blade drawn, every step an act of defiance against the pull in her chest. The headache screamed as if her own mind were splitting in two.
Somewhere deep inside, something tore.
Not clean. Not gentle.
But hers.
Cassian's smile faltered just enough for her to see it.
And for the first time since the ache began, Elisia smiled back, feral and unafraid.
Elisia lunged—and then stopped.
Not because Cassian moved.
Because she finally looked at his face.
Really looked.
The candles flickered, shadows shifting across his features, and something inside her went cold. Her grip slackened just enough for doubt to slip in.
She knew that face.
Not in the way she knew Cassian from files or fleeting encounters. This was deeper. Older. Like recognizing someone in a dream after waking, certain they mattered but unable to place why.
Her chest tightened painfully. "You…"
Cassian tilted his head, curiosity cutting through his amusement. "Me?"
Her headache roared back, worse than before, pressure grinding behind her eyes as two truths tried to exist at once.
That face was his.
And it wasn't.
For a heartbeat, the room warped. His outline shimmered, just at the edges. She saw something else laid over him, like a reflection on dark glass. Another presence. Heavier. Sharper. Familiar in a way that made her stomach drop.
She staggered back a step.
"No," she whispered. "That's not—"
Cassian frowned now, irritation creeping in. "You're staring."
Ben moved closer instantly, weapon still trained but eyes flicking between them. "Lis?"
She shook her head, trying to clear it. "Your face," she said to Cassian, voice tight. "I recognize it. But I don't. Like… I've known you somewhere I've never been."
The air shifted.
Cassian's expression hardened, something defensive flashing through his eyes before the charm snapped back into place. "Careful," he said lightly. "You're projecting."
Before she could answer, another wave of pressure rolled through her skull—and with it, that voice returned.
Quieter now. Closer.
"Well… that's inconvenient."
Her breath hitched. Not now. Please not now.
"You're seeing it, huh?" the voice continued, dry as ever, but there was strain under it this time. "Yeah. That's on me."
Her knees almost buckled. She dug her heel into the stone floor, forcing herself upright.
Cassian took another step toward her. "You're unraveling," he said softly. "You should let me help you again."
Again.
That word snapped something loose.
"No," she spat, raising her blade. "You don't get to wear his face and talk to me like that."
Silence slammed into the room.
Ben's head whipped toward her. "Wear whose face?"
Before she could answer, Kliev swore under his breath. "Okay, weird question, but—" He squinted at Cassian. "Have I seen you before?"
Cassian's smile faltered for real this time.
"That's impossible," he said sharply.
Cymac's eyes narrowed, magic flickering instinctively around his fingers. "Recognition bleed," he murmured. "Temporal, maybe. Or soul-based."
Ben's grip tightened on his weapon, his instincts screaming. He stepped half in front of Elisia without breaking eye contact with Cassian. "Lis. Start talking."
She swallowed hard, still staring at that face that didn't belong to the man standing in front of her.
"I don't know how," she said honestly. "But that face… it's wrong. Like a mask pulled over something else. Something that shouldn't be here."
The voice in her head exhaled, long and tired.
"Ben's sharp," it muttered. "Figures he'd feel it too."
Her eyes widened slightly.
Cassian's gaze flicked between them now, calculating. "You're all very confused."
"Yeah," Ben said slowly. "But you're the common factor."
Cassian moved.
Too fast.
He closed the distance in a blink, hand snapping out toward Elisia's throat. Ben reacted instantly, slamming into him from the side. The impact cracked stone as they collided, both skidding across the floor.
Elisia surged forward despite the pain, blade flashing. Cassian twisted away, but not fast enough. Steel bit into his side. He snarled, backhanding her across the room.
She hit the wall hard, breath exploding from her lungs.
The headache screamed again—and this time, the voice didn't joke.
"Okay. New rule," it said, tight and focused. "You're not fighting just a vampire."
She pushed herself up, blood on her lip, vision swimming. "Then what is he?"
A pause.
"Something that stole a seat it shouldn't have," the voice said. "And yeah… I recognize that face too."
Her heart skipped. "You do?"
"Unfortunately."
Across the room, Ben dragged himself up, staring at Cassian with dawning horror. Something had clicked for him, slow and terrible.
"Lis," he said hoarsely. "I don't know why, but looking at him feels like déjà vu with teeth. Like… like I've stood across from him before. Just not like this."
Her eyes met Ben's.
A thought surfaced, wild and impossible.
"What if," she said carefully, "you have?"
Cassian laughed then, sharp and humorless. "Enough."
Power surged outward from him, slamming into the team like a shockwave. Candles shattered. Sigils flared violently.
Elisia steadied herself, blade raised, heart hammering.
Somewhere beyond sight, the voice in her head went very quiet.
Then, softly, almost apologetic, "If Ben's starting to remember… then yeah. We're closer to the bad part than I hoped."
She swallowed, fear and resolve tangling in her chest.
"Tell me," she demanded. "What's he to us?"
The voice didn't answer right away.
When it did, it was with a weight that made her skin prickle.
"Let's just say," it said, "there are futures where Ben and I don't get the luxury of not knowing him."
And in front of her, wearing a familiar face that didn't belong to him, Cassian smiled like he knew that too.
To be continue