Despite all the advantages at his disposal, he found himself cornered before he knew it. But there had to be some way to break the circle that was closing in on them and continue on their way to the city, to safety. Right? He refused to believe he would fall in such a sudden and pathetic way after coming so far.

  Vincent steeled himself, throwing himself against the human wall. He had to try something. It was better than giving up. However, bitterly, salvation came neither from his hands nor from Tara's. At least then he could have called it a team victory.

  It was the silhouette of a woman manifesting amidst the flames. It wasn't hard to recognize her, even from behind. In any case, there was only one person who could have pulled off this last-minute rescue. It was, without a doubt, Professor Verona, though she was very late.

  "Get down," the woman ordered, completely nonchalant, as if there weren't dozens of men advancing on their position.

  She might be strong and a professor from Runehaven, while the thugs, doubtfully, had ever had formal training. But that didn't mean she was out of danger, not by a long shot. For starters, there was the numerical disadvantage. No matter how strong one side was, that was what decided the outcome of a fight most of the time.

  Verona made the Red Scars back off. With fire erupting from her hands, they retreated, as if terrified. For thugs willing to kill and traffic people, that was a pretty pathetic reaction, but he supposed they were surprised. They had expected to deal with students, not a faculty member. Surprise, nothing more. They'd get over it soon enough and descend on her like a wave of evil. It couldn't be that easy, no matter how strong and skilled she was.

  In any case, Vincent felt no relief at all, no desire to applaud her for saving their lives.

  "Right now, how convenient..." the words escaped his throat before he could think. Otherwise, he wouldn't have said anything at all. But it was better this way, really, even though part of him was recoiling. Even though, beneath the ringing in his ears, a voice was saying: you're risking expulsion. You're risking it all, dead or alive.

  "Then leave," Verona said, another command. She didn't even bother to respond, which, of course, didn't help at all.

  Vincent took a step forward, as if ready to help the Red Scars, after all. But then, Ayame said:

  "Vincent, let's get out of here."

  A weak but sincere whisper. It was all it took for him to see that there were more important things than his rage right now. So he shook his head, despite himself, turned around, and kept running with his tail between his legs, he couldn't help but think. He was shaking, and not just from the cold or because everything hurt. His fists were trembling, his teeth were even chattering.

  "She's a professor, she'll ruin you," Ayame said. "Those thugs can't do anything to her, even if they outnumber her."

  "Do you really think that's what I care about? Do you really think that's what I'm worried about?"

  Ayame fell silent immediately. Vincent felt a desperate need to apologize for being so harsh and cold, for directing his anger where it didn't belong. But in the end, he remained silent too. They could talk about that and other things when they reached a safe place. Once they were far enough from this disaster, there would be nothing to stop them.

  Vincent watched as Tara descended from the rooftops, graceful as a cat, leaping between them, rolling, swinging on bars and pulleys to gain momentum, even sliding down a curtain to finally land on the ground and rejoin them. Not much time had actually passed since he'd left her behind to rescue Ayame, but it felt like a long time, long enough to have missed her. Long enough to feel like something had changed. But that was one of the many things he'd rather not think about.

  Speaking of which, he didn't miss the way Tara's eyes darkened as she examined Ayame. It didn't take a genius to figure out why her clothes had tears without accompanying wounds. It was obvious they hadn't been inflicted by a weapon, but by hands. Tara hugged Ayame tightly, as if she wanted to break her ribs or fuse with her, as if out of fear.

  "Everything okay?" a whisper just loud enough for the three of them to hear. The real fear was in those two single words.

  "Yes, Vincent got there in time."

  Tara broke the hug. She sighed in relief.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  "Okay, that's great, but the next person who talks about field studies gets a kick in the balls."

  "Couldn't agree more," Vincent said.

  He felt like laughing. In fact, he would have laughed if it didn't hurt so much, which would have been like dragging a knife across his ribs. Instead, the three of them walked into the city together, in silence.

  But the quiet lasted less time than he'd expected. On their way back to the hotel, to the paid room, that is, the only safe place for them...

  "For fuck's sake."

  Verona, whom he had no desire to call professor right now, manifested. Just like that, again. Seriously, she had held off the Red Scars, either by killing them or pushing them back. And on top of that, she had kept pace with them. That easily, that quickly. He would deny it if he didn't have the proof right before his eyes.

  At least, it's all over, he thought.

  "At least I managed to distract them," Verona said, crossing her arms and leaning her back against the nearest wall.

  Something inside Vincent shattered into a thousand pieces, and he lost all hope of holding back. The ringing in his ears grew even louder.

  "You want a medal?"

  "Excuse me..." the professor feigned offense. Feigned, because it was impossible she didn't know what he was talking about.

  "Vincent..." Ayame called to him, but not even her voice reached him. Or rather, it already had, because he was fighting for her in the first place.

  "You heard me," he spat. "You want a fucking medal? They dragged her away. They almost killed her. They almost killed us. And by a hair's breadth..." Vincent swallowed. He didn't want to say that word out loud, as if merely speaking it would make it more real. Even with the rage that left him trembling, he didn't want to say it. He felt like it would be crossing some kind of line. "You want a fucking medal?"

  At the last second, Vincent should have stopped, but unfortunately, he couldn't help it. Every word came from his soul. He wasn't just angry; he felt offended, or rather, betrayed. This made no sense. Nothing was as it should be.

  But Verona didn't frown, didn't even move from her spot.

  "You're not the only group I have to worry about," she replied simply.

  Ah, there it is, he thought, the last straw. He was vaguely aware of leaving Ayame in Tara's arms. Then, he threw a punch.

  The punch landed on the wall, millimeters from Verona's face. He hadn't held back in the slightest. The wall cracked under his fist. Slightly. It went without saying what that force could do to a human skull. Verona watched him, tilting her head back.

  "I'll forgive your insolence. I'll chalk it up to the stress of the situation."

  An even worse insult than the last. Vincent knew exactly what he felt.

  "At least don't talk to me like I'm crazy," Vincent said. "Like I don't have the right to feel... what? Betrayed? What did you think the field study consisted of?"

  "You're in the field, and I studied you."

  Too many pieces fell into place, naturally. Vincent pulled his fist back and also retreated, exactly one step. Nothing she said mattered anymore. He supposed that if she was going to expel him or try to, she had already made her decision. The rest was nothing. Besides, something else was bothering him much more.

  "You mean this whole thing was just to see what we'd do? There was never a specific objective? A plan?" He sounded stunned. He sounded like he refused to believe it. But in reality, it made more sense to him than he was willing to admit. Even though it was insane logic, he believed. That was clear.

  "That's precisely what I said," Verona replied. There was no hint of mockery in her tone, but maybe that was worse.

  "You think that makes anything better?"

  "I don't know, but I also don't care. Good night, Mr. Parker."

  And then Verona disappeared just as she had arrived, melting into the night. Nothing more, no trace.

  "How are you still like this? You're going to get expelled," Tara said slowly after a while. Probably what it took for her to feel certain the professor wasn't watching them in silence.

  "I still couldn't stay quiet. You were out there, but I saw..." enough, he thought, remembering the horrible moment with twice the dreadful clarity. "What happened?"

  Vincent swallowed.

  "It doesn't matter. I'm sorry. Let's go back to the room and let whatever happens, happen."

  They resumed their walk. They were in no hurry now. The Red Scars were far behind, and Verona was unlikely to return to bother them with one last chat, especially him, he supposed.

  "Ayame needs blood," he suggested suddenly. But it wasn't really that sudden. He should have offered it sooner, given her condition.

  "No," Ayame replied simply, making him feel like a fool for having overthought it. It was better to be simple and direct, no doubt about it.

  "Are you sure?" Tara asked. "You can have mine if the problem is you don't want to drink from the same person more than once."

  Ayame looked back at her, a peculiar glint in her eyes. He couldn't tell if it was good or bad, judging by her reactions.

  "I don't know," Tara continued, "I thought maybe you'd worry about getting addicted to a particular person's taste."

  "I do worry," the vampiress admitted without hesitation, "but that's not the issue. My stomach is full. I already drank from one of those sons of bitches, the one who was about to..."

  The thought ended violently, and Vincent almost threw up.

  "Oh, then okay," Tara replied, as if innocently, satisfied.

  They arrived back at the inn after a walk that, at least for him, felt horribly long. His knees buckled as soon as he saw the stupid sign and the stupid name of the establishment. They weren't going to get any sleep after everything that had happened. He was pretty sure he could speak for the other two in that regard as well.

  "But at least it's four walls and a roof. That's something," he said.

  No one asked him what he meant. Probably because they were thinking the same thing. They made it back to the room without any more obstacles. Fortunately, he'd had enough for a good long while. Vincent laid Ayame down on her bed. He wasn't sure which was Tara and Ayame's anymore, and which was his.