Chapter Text
Sana has to admit that the bar Momo’s chosen is actually pretty nice.
It’s not one of their usual Friday evening haunts; it’s a little further into the city than they tend to venture on nights like this. But it’s discreet enough, she supposes. The place isn’t all that big, and the lights are dimmed just enough for some anonymity to be maintained. Plus, the cocktails are exquisite, so Sana really can’t complain.
The only issue is the clientele.
Unlike their regular spots, this bar seems almost devoid of seedy old men and drunken perverts. Anybody else would be glad for it, but for Sana, Momo and Mina, it’s a let down. For them, it means a bloodless night; a deathless one.
Sana used to be a lot less picky, back when she was first turned. Hunger had always triumphed over silly human things like rationale and morals, and she’d killed when she felt like it. Her fangs had drained the life of women, men, young, old, rich and poor alike. In her young eyes, they hadn’t been people at all—only her next meal.
She’d have probably carried on that way if it weren’t for Momo.
Sana had found the girl a decade or two after she herself had joined the undead. She’d just finished feeding from a couple returning home from dinner when she’d heard panicked shouts echoing down the alleyway she was crouched in. Intrigued, she’d headed for the noise, and the sight that had met her had fury boiling under skin.
Two guys, big and mean-looking, had this pretty young thing pushed up against the wall. One of them had his hands on her hips, whilst the other stood off to the side holding a knife. The girl had been writhing, squirming, screaming, and the men had only laughed.
To this day, Sana curses herself for not acting quicker, for not immediately intervening. As it was, instead of racing towards the men and ripping their spines out through the soft skin of their backs, she’d made her presence known by stepping into their field of vision and growling. Panicked by the sight of the obviously feral woman covered in blood approaching them, the men had sprinted away—but not before plunging the knife deep into the girl’s stomach.
Sana could have let her die. She could have walked away, let her bleed out, and gone on her way. She’d never cared for humans before—why should this one be any different?
But something in the girl’s deep brown eyes had struck a chord in her—some remnant of mercy, of pity, of pain had flickered within in her, and she’d crouched down next to the girl before she could talk herself out of it.
Sana had done all she could to try and stem the bleeding, but the blade had pierced deep and the damage was too extensive. The girl had been crying, sobbing in pain, and it had cracked something deep in Sana’s long-dead heart. So, almost without thinking, she’d done the only thing she could think of to save her life: she sank her fangs into the side of the girl’s neck.
Sana only found out her name after the transformation was complete—Momo. She’d whispered it as Sana helped her to her feet, blinking crimson eyes and looking down at her healed stomach in wonder, and Sana had felt the echoes of something unnameable bounce between her ribs.
She’d known then that this girl, Momo, was going to mean something to her.
Momo had been just as feral as her at first; killing indiscriminately, perpetually hungry, the need for blood overpowering everything else. Sana had indulged her—newborns were almost impossible to control, so why bother trying? But after a few years, something shifted. Momo started choosing her victims, something that had fascinated and perplexed Sana in equal measure.
She’d watched as the younger vampire passed on easy kills—a woman walking home alone at night, a wealthy banker in an alleyway, a drunk—and had almost spoken up, until it became apparent why exactly Momo was doing this.
The pattern became obvious after the third—some scruffy young guy who reeked of whiskey, following a woman down the street in the dead of night. He’d barely begun to sneer, reaching a grimy hand out for the woman’s waist, when Momo had pounced, dragging him behind a tree and biting his neck so hard Sana was surprised the bone didn’t snap.
She hadn’t needed an explanation after that. She’d simply wiped the blood from Momo’s chin, and told her she’d done well.
Momo had kissed her for the first time that night.
After that, their kills took on meaning. They hunted with purpose—not just to feed, to sate that constant hunger for flesh and blood, but also to make the world a slightly better place. Every night, a different asshole got what was coming to them, and Sana began to enjoy her undead life a little more.
All this to say: it’s looking less and less likely that they’re going to find tonight’s meal at this bar.
Sana sighs, taking another careful glance around the room as she sips her martini. Nobody stands out to her as particularly sinister (unless you count the woman drunkenly warbling her way through some saccharine pop song in the corner, and though Sana’s ears beg for mercy, pitchy singing isn’t exactly reason enough to be murdered.)
Her eyes slide to her left, where Momo sits nursing a beer. She looks beautiful tonight, clad in a tight black shirt that shows off her shoulders, and Sana feels the faint stirrings of a different kind of hunger in her gut.
A gentle sigh from her right draws her attention from the younger vampire, and Sana grins.
Mina’s always been impatient.
She’s the newest of their trio, having only been turned a few years ago, and she’s still learning their ways.
Finding Mina had been a complete accident. Sana and Momo had been returning from a hunt, blood still sticking to their teeth, and on a total whim they’d decided to detour home across the bridge. The night had been nice, or the kill had been satisfying—whatever the reason, it had lead to them strolling hand-in-hand on the lofted pathway, hundreds of feet above the rushing water below.
The figure stood on the wrong side of the railings had escaped their attention at first, until a soft, almost mournful sob had reached their ears. Both of them had whipped their heads around, and that’s when they’d spotted her.
Even crying, even on the brink, teetering over the side of the bridge, Mina had been breathtaking. Her dark eyes, bloodshot and glassy with tears, her windswept hair, the elegant slope to her features—all of it had been enough to stop them both dead in their tracks. They’d exchanged a look. Then Momo had stepped forwards.
“What are you doing?” She’d called, voice cautious. Mina’s head had jerked around, more tears sliding down her already damp cheeks.
“Go away,” she’d replied, trembling and stubborn. The pain in her tone had sliced right through Sana. She’d inched closer.
“A fall from this height wouldn’t be pretty,” she’d said, soft and coaxing. She’d had no idea at the time why she was being so gentle with this human, with this stranger, but something in her chest had been hurting something awful at the sight of those tearful brown eyes. It was a similar feeling she’d had when she stumbled upon Momo.
“I know.”
The response had come with Mina leaning forwards over the edge just a little more, and the panicked lurch in Sana’s stomach prompted her into action. For whatever reason, she couldn’t let this girl die.
“Get back from there. If you slip and fall you’ll—“ Sana had started, taking another step closer, but Mina had cut her off, a sob hitching her voice.
“I know!” She’d cried, and the agony in her eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “Don’t you think I know that? That’s why I’m doing this! Now just—just go away, and let me—let me—“
Sana’s never seen Momo move as quickly as she did in that moment. One second Mina was tilting forwards, hands loosening on the railing, and the next she was on the ground, Momo having grabbed her and pinned her.
“Get off me! Get the fuck off me!” Mina had yelled, fighting against the vampire on top of her, but her strength was no match for Momo’s. She’d squirmed and kicked for a while, until her struggling devolved into sobs, body going limp.
Sana doesn’t know how long they sat with Mina on that bridge for, waiting out her tears, offering careful shoulder rubs and soft reassurances. But eventually, the girl had calmed enough for them to convince her to come home with them, needing to get her out of the cold and away from that edge.
Mina stayed with them for a week after that, drifting through their house like a ghost. She hadn’t spoken, had barely eaten, and trying to get answers out of her had been like pulling teeth. But Sana had felt it anyways: that draw, that magnetic pull, the one she’d had to Momo. She knew Momo felt it too, if the soft, searching looks she’d kept giving the girl were anything to go by.
When Mina finally broke, it was with tears and cracking sobs, a voice like shattered glass and eyes like splintered gold. She’d told them everything that had lead to her standing on the bridge that night: her shitty job, the friends that abandoned her, the family that didn’t care about her, the struggle with her mental health.
Sana hadn’t been human for nearly half a century at that point. But watching Mina cry, listening to the tragedy of her story, something very mortal had gripped her.
So, she’d done the only thing she could think of: she stepped forwards and brought the girl into her arms, hugging her tight, as if the embrace alone would keep her from crumbling. Momo had joined shortly after, holding them both just as firmly, and Mina had cried into them like she was dying.
Sana had known then that Mina would be important to the both of them.
Months passed, and Mina began to rebuild, with no short amount of help from the two vampires. A tentative friendship formed, then grew into something softer, something deeper.
After a year, Sana and Momo revealed their true natures to her. Despite explaining their obligation to only kill bad people, they’d still expected horror, fear, disgust—any number of negative reactions that would lead to them losing Mina forever. But Mina didn’t run. She didn’t scream.
She’d simply stepped forwards, then again, and again until she was stood right in front of them. Her hands, those perfect, elegant hands, had reached up and cupped Sana’s right cheek and Momo’s left.
“You’re both beautiful.” Mina had whispered, eyes glossy with admiration. Momo had kissed her first, then Sana, and suddenly the stranger on the bridge was part of their unbeating hearts.
Three years later, Mina asked them to turn her. And though they’d both been hesitant at first, her justification had won them over in an instant.
“One lifetime isn’t enough. I want to be with you both forever.”
That had been just over five years ago, and Mina had taken to vampirism like a duck to water. She hunted like it’s what she was born to do, killed like it was an art form.
Her only problem was patience.
Sana’s smile is achingly fond as Mina sighs again, circling the rim of her wine glass with the tip of her index finger. They’ve been here nearly two hours now, and no sign of untoward behaviour from anybody. Sana understands her frustration.
She’s just about to call it—suggest they head home, hunt for wolves in the woods by their house—when movement by the door catches her eye.
It’s a woman—a girl, really—stumbling on her too-high heels as she trips towards the exit. She’s clearly wasted, but that’s not the issue.
The issue is the guy that skulks after her.
From one look, Sana can tell he’s trouble. He’s short, hunching over like he’s trying not to be seen, and his beady little eyes dart about almost guiltily as he follows the girl out of the bar.
She feels Momo straighten up on her left, hears the measured, determined inhale from Mina on her right, and she knows it’s decided. She plucks a few bills from her wallet, enough to cover the drinks they’ve not finished, and drops them on the table before the three of them rise fluid and graceful and make for the door.
At this hour, the streets are still flooded with people so they can follow the man easily without drawing too much attention. They lose sight of him a few times in the throng of Friday night revellers, but his scent—something acrid and distasteful, like too much cheap cologne piled on top of the smell of cigarettes and sweat—guides them well enough.
Gradually the crowd thins as the streets turn to quieter pathways, then to narrow alleyways. Now, there’s nothing obstructing their view of the man trudging after the staggering girl, nothing keeping them from their goal.
Sana can feel how tense Momo is beside her; she’s practically vibrating with pent-up energy, itching to drain the life from the guy. She even makes a jerky move to speed up before Sana places a warning hand on her arm.
Wait, it says; stay.
Sana’s almost entirely sure the man will be their meal for the night, but she doesn’t want to attack if this is all just a coincidence—if he just happened to leave the bar at the same time as the girl, if he lives in a similar area and isn’t following her at all.
The old her would have had no such qualms or limitations. But she’s different now; better, with Mina and Momo beside her.
Eventually—inevitably—the man proves their suspicions correct by increasing his pace and grabbing the girl by the shoulder. She turns, frowning and uncoordinated, unable to utter any words of confusion before he shoves her up against the wall of the darkened alley.
A familiar sort of rage races through Sana’s veins at the sight, and she feels her fangs ache with the need to tear and bite and kill. Mina hisses as the man crowds into the drunk girl’s space, his hands beginning to roam, and Momo actually growls.
He’s just reaching for the hem of her skirt with his grubby fingers, the girl fighting and protesting, when Sana’s restraint finally snaps.
“Momo.” She snarls, voice a deadly command, and the eager sound that echoes in her companion’s chest at being let off the leash sets her alight.
It takes less than a second for Momo to dart forwards, grasp the back of the guy’s wrinkled jacket and throw him up against the opposite wall. His head meets the brick with a dull thud, a pained gasp forced from his mouth as the air is ripped from his lungs.
The girl screams, shocked by the sudden turn of events, and Sana doesn’t even have to speak for Mina to go to her, cooing soft words of reassurance in that velvet-smooth voice of hers. Sana leaves her to it—she knows Mina’s the best at comfort out of the three of them—and instead heads for where Momo has the man pinned, face contorted in a savage grin.
“What the—who the fuck are you? Get off me!” He sputters, kicking at Momo. She doesn’t move.
“Tch, tch, tch,” Sana tuts as she moves closer, eyes flashing dangerously, “stupid boy. What exactly were you planning on doing to that young lady if we hadn’t intervened?”
Her voice is low and serrated as she comes to a stop by Momo’s shoulder. Momo growls again, the sound wild and furious.
“None of your fucking business!” He spits back, but there’s a hint of fear to him now—Momo’s strength and speed clearly shocking him—and it’s edging his tone almost deliciously.
“You were going to hurt her, right?” Sana continues, as if he hadn’t even spoken. “Put your filthy hands on her, use her for your own sick pleasure?”
He kicks at Momo again and Sana bares her teeth, wrathful and menacing. Momo hisses, then slams him back against the concrete again. The brute force of it has him crying out in pain, and something truly terrified enters his eyes.
“No, no I—I wasn’t!” He protests, and Sana rolls her eyes.
“Don’t lie. We know exactly what you were planning.”
Behind her, she hears the girl stumbling backwards, away from Mina, clearly frightened. She pays her no mind as she scrambles away, unable to blame her for being scared. Her and Momo must look terrifying right now, all glaring crimson eyes and razor-sharp fangs—it’s no wonder the girl runs. Sana just hopes she gets home safely.
The man tries to speak again—maybe to protest, or demand to be let go—but Momo’s hand wraps around his throat before he can get the words out. His eyes go wide as his air supply is cut off, feet kicking out again. A dark chuckle rumbles in Momo’s chest.
Sana considers him for a while, tilting her head. The terror in his eyes is undeniable now, and it sends a sadistic shiver down her spine. She hums as Mina takes her place beside her, the three of them now watching the man as his face begins to turn purple.
They could just kill him here; rip his throat out, sate their hunger with his blood, leave him to be found by the police in the morning.
It would be so easy—but it wouldn’t be satisfying.
Because something about the situation reminds Sana so strongly of the night she found Momo: a girl alone at night, cornered down an alleyway, evil intentions in leering eyes. It’s like a sick version of déjà vu, and something ugly and twisted bubbles in Sana’s gut at the feel of it.
“Momo,” she murmurs softly as the man’s eyes begin to roll back. The younger vampire doesn’t acknowledge her—if anything, she squeezes harder at his neck, eyes ablaze with rage as he chokes.
“Momo, stop.” Sana tries again, firmer this time, and reaches out to place a hand on the other girl’s shoulder.
“Why?” Momo grits out, fingers digging into flesh, eyes fixed on the now-unconscious man. Sana squeezes her shoulder.
“Stop. We’re still going to kill him—I promise, baby—but not here.”
That gets Momo to relinquish her grip somewhat, eyes flickering to Sana curiously. Mina makes a questioning sound beside her, and Sana grins wickedly.
“Let’s have some fun with this one,” she drawls, all sharp teeth and sharper eyes, and Momo and Mina grin like wild things.