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Chapter 143
🕑 Added 2024-11-27 03:26:15 +0000 UTCFollowing her inside, you can’t help but mentally curse your genius, albeit lustful, mind for designing the X-ray function in the first place. It is going to test your willpower constantly in the future, especially when you are always surrounded by such hot babes.
"Is monster hunting a very profitable business?" you ask, trying to distract yourself as Elsa makes her way to the kitchen.
"Huh? No, not particularly," she replies, rummaging through the cabinets.
"Then how does your family—Bloodstone International—manage to afford things like this?" You gesture to the lavish three-bedroom penthouse you both are currently staying in.
"Oh, that." Elsa looks a bit awkward as she pulls out a large cooler from one of the compartments. "My father made some very smart investments back in the day—nothing to do with monster hunting."
"Just smart investments, huh?" You raise an eyebrow, finding it hard to believe. From what D.A.I.S.Y. uncovered, Bloodstone International owns multiple hotels and restaurant chains, logistics companies, and properties worldwide, including six mansions, one in New York City, and even a private island.
Elsa places the cooler beside the sofa and opens it, revealing several bottles of whisky, vodka, and wine. She grabs a bottle of whisky and hands it to you as she sits down on the sofa. "Drink up, mate. It'll help you forget about tonight," she offers with a smile.
You have noticed Elsa always shifts the topic whenever her family comes up. “Is this your way of decompressing?” you ask curiously, taking the bottle from her.
"Ha, no. I'm used to it. A nice hot shower is usually enough for me. But I've seen plenty of hunters who need to drink after a hunt to settle their nerves," she says, grabbing another bottle for herself.
“Are there many of them? Hunters, I mean?” you ask as you pour some whisky into a glass.
“Not nearly bloody enough, mate.” She sighs. “Anyway, about tonight’s hunt. I did come across a bloodsucker in an alley near the bar—was preying on some poor lass. Had a nice ‘chat’ with him and moved the girl somewhere safe. That’s why I was a bit late getting to the club.”
You nod. "It’s fine. I figured you must’ve been held up." In fact, D.A.I.S.Y. had always known her location through the bracelet you had gifted her. In a way, you were relieved she didn’t arrive sooner; the last thing you needed was for her to walk in while you were handling that vampire lady in the washroom, with your penis… definitely not the most ideal scenario.
"But you should have stuck to the plan!" Elsa scolds, though there's a hint of amusement in her voice. "Normally, I’m the one who recklessly charges into a monster den. It’s refreshing to see someone else do it for a change." She laughs, taking a swig straight from the bottle.
"Well, with the Bloodbath and everything going down, I didn’t have much of a choice but to act," you say awkwardly, the memory of that crimson-soaked room still fresh. You down your glass in one go and pour another.
"Ah, well, it turned out alright in the end," Elsa says, waving it off. Then her expression grows curious. "Speaking of which, I could’ve sworn I saw golden lightning forming wings on your back near the end of the fight—"
"Hey, weren’t you going to tell me what you found out?" you interrupt quickly, not keen on discussing your powers.
She rolls her eyes. "Ugh, fine, keep your little secrets, mate." She takes another sip before leaning forward, suddenly serious. "The bloodsucker I interrogated squealed a bit. First off, this city—Belgrade—is under the Dasmaskinos Clan."
“Clans? Like vampire clans?” you ask, sipping your drink while sneakily admiring the deep cleavage revealed by her leaning posture.
"Yeah. Vampires are very territorial. They usually stick to one city and rarely travel. Most big cities are claimed by a single group of vampires—they call themselves houses, tribes, covens, or clans. It's like animals marking their hunting ground," Elsa explains, her eyes drifting toward the city skyline from the balcony.
You make a mental note to find out which clan controls New York. They would need to be wiped out.
"So, were the vampires we fought tonight part of the Dasmaskinos Clan?" you ask, remembering Racquel mentioning that name while she was feeding on you.
“No, not exactly,” Elsa replies. “For the past month or so, the Dasmaskinos Clan has been preparing something big. They’ve lifted the ban on outside vampires hunting in their city—in fact, they are encouraging others to come here.”
“So is that why there were so many of them at the club tonight? Vampire tourists from nearby cities?” The idea feels bizarre.
"I don’t know. It’s strange. I have never heard of any vampire group giving up their territory like that. They are usually very private and secretive. It might have helped if we had interrogated someone before frying them." She chuckles, clearly used to this issue.
You recall the one vampire you had let live, only for her to escape. The regret gnaws at you, but you shake it off. "I did notice a few other suspicious things," you say, changing the subject.
You go on to explain the odd details—how the DJ and the vampires on the second floor seemed to be waiting for Blade. The entire Bloodbath felt like a setup, possibly an ambush. There was also the suspiciously slow response from the police, even with all the gunfire. And the lack of their action around the multiple kidnapping cases only added to the weirdness.
"I’ve heard that the Daywalker is very hated in the vampire community, as he has been actively hunting them for many years. So an ambush makes sense,” Elsa agrees. "As for the police, I would bet my life that some of the higher-ups are thralls to the Dasmaskinos Clan," she says with certainty.
“Thralls?” you ask.
"Human slaves—vampires' little bitches," she says with disgust.
"Wait, so vampires can just hypnotize anyone into becoming a thrall?" you ask, the danger level of these creatures rising in your mind.
“No, it’s not that simple,” Elsa explains. “The hypnosis only lasts a few moments. To make someone a thrall, a vampire has to make the human drink their blood every day for three days straight. After that, the human becomes addicted—like a junkie to that vampire’s blood, a slave to their Vampire Master”
You down the rest of your drink, fascinated, and ask more about thralls. Elsa goes on to explain that a thrall’s bond breaks if the vampire dies. Through vampire blood, thralls can live longer than usual, they are often marked by a brand claiming their loyalty to a specific vampire or clan. The Bloodstone family even has a cure for the thrall addiction.
"Thralls are one of the big reasons these bloody mosquitoes have managed to stay hidden for so long," Elsa says with frustration.
You had originally thought it was all down to police corruption, but this thrall situation makes things even more complicated.
“So, should we start by having a ‘talk’ with the police tomorrow? Maybe they know something about these mass disappearances,” you suggest. Although the tourists vamps could also be responsible, but you doubt it, as your gut points more to the Dasmakinos Clan especially after hearing Racquel mention something about the ritual.
"Sure, I’m very good at ‘talking,’" Elsa says confidently, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“No, no, I’ll handle it,” you say quickly, knowing full well her idea of a ‘talk’ involves her guitar case and a lot of violence. "But first, we should meet up with Blade, maybe he has some clues already." You are sure that Blade must be in the center of whatever is happening in the city.
"I'm cool with that. The next plan for the hunt is set, then," Elsa says, standing up with the whisky bottle in hand. "Best get some rest for tomorrow."
“What’s the rush, El? Why not join me for a drink and a chat?” you say, flashing her your most charming smile.
“A drink and a chat?” Elsa raises a skeptical eyebrow at you, her expression somewhere between amused and curious.
“Yep, a chat. I am quite interested in hearing about the legendary life of Elsa Bloodstone, the Monster Hunter! I bet you have got some wild stories to tell, and we have plenty of booze to get the mood going,” you add, holding up the whisky bottle invitingly.
“Well, I’ll admit, I’m a bit curious about the life of Mr. Genius Billionaire myself,” she says, settling back down, her blue eyes sparkling with intrigue. “Though I ought to warn you, even if I downed all these bottles, I wouldn’t so much as feel tipsy.” She pops the cork on the whisky and finishes off the half-full bottle in one swift go, wiping her lips carelessly as she holds the empty bottle up.
"That’s the gem’s doing, right?" you ask casually, your eyes drifting to the black collar around her fair slender neck, where the dull red stone rests.
Elsa’s easygoing demeanour fades in an instant. “How do you know about that, Luke?” she asks, her tone sharp as her grip tightens on the glass bottle.
“I didn’t, but I do now,” you respond with a smug chuckle, leaning back into the sofa and taking a sip of your own whisky, perfectly unfazed by her sudden change in tone.
“Luke… mate, this isn’t something to joke about,” she says, her narrowed eyes fixed on you.
“Oh, come on, who do you take me for? From the legends about your father to your unnatural strength and that little giveaway of a surname—‘Bloodstone,’” you say, mimicking quotation marks with your fingers. “Wasn’t hard to piece together that the glowing red gem is your power source, was it?”
It was an easy guess, but you are not really speaking the truth. You knew about the Bloodstone and her family from your meta knowledge of the comics.
“Bloody geniuses…” Elsa mutters under her breath, her frustration clear as she pulls another bottle of whisky from the cooler. Slowly, she uncaps it and fills your glass. “You’re right. It’s called the Bloodgem… but I would appreciate it if you didn’t go about spreading that little secret,” she says seriously.
