“Don't tell me you are dying,” she murmured angrily, trying to bring him to consciousness as she caught him before he reached the ground with his face. Hisweight immediately pulled her down.
“I knew you would find a way to get close to me,” he sang sleepily.
Violette raised her eyes to the sky, as though searching for patience. She made a few shaking steps before grumbling, “Ugh, you're heavy.”
“You are so generous with compliments today, Little Witch,” his voice sounded besotted, drunk, almost dreaming. Just until a painful groan tumbled out his mouth.
Violette didn't know where to go, the only idea that came to her mind was to get to the crypt since they were close and then…She didn't have a plan after actually, but Dante was struggling to stay upright and his mind seemed to convert into a fog. It turned out it wasn't just a ‘little pain’ as he stated.
They enteredthe crypt once again. Perhaps they should stop coming here so often. At this point, Violette visited cemeteries on these lands much more often than her mother's grave; it had been a long time since she was there.
She helped Dante to sit on the floor near the painted column. He quietly sighed in pain, leaning against the wall. It wasn't that noticeable outside how tired and sickly he looked until now: his skin lost its color, and eyes grew dim, his eyelids half closed, looking like he just woke up aftera not really sober night and it was not as fun as it was supposed to be.
Violette’s eyes betrayed concern, prompting him finally to speak.
“I'm not dying, Little Witch. Stop looking at me like this,” he murmured, taking off his coat and placing it under his back.
“Then stop acting this way.” Violette sat further from him. The ground beneath was hard and frigid.
Her gaze drew back to Dante, as he shut his eyes and threw his head back. She started pondering: what would happen if she hadn't led him here? If they continued the walk under the sun? And she didn't hesitate to ask him about it.
“I would not die, if you are thinking about it.” He opened his eyes and cocked his head in her direction. “The high vampires can't die because of the sun but their condition can turn very bad. It can take weeks or even months to recover.”
Violette’s brows raised as her shoulder strained.
“High vampires? Do you have…classifications?” she asked carefully, weighing her words.
“There's only two types of vampires – regular and high.”
“What is the difference?” Her curiosity was aroused.
“High vampires don't die that easily.” A smirk wrapped his lips.
She snorted. “That's all? I don't believe it's the only difference.” She had thousands of reasonsto presume Dante was telling only half the truth, or doubt he was telling the truth at all.
He threw his head back with a soft sigh, not expecting any other answer from her.
“They are much stronger and enduring than other vampires,” he simply added.
“I presume you are a high vampire because you're too selfish for anything else.”
It earned her a relaxing smile from him.
She swayed on the spot, then brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“You said you can be killed only by the Vampire Slayer,” Caidas words unintentionally flew over her mind. “What about other vampires? Can they be killed by something else?”
“You want me to tell you all vampire secrets so you could use it against them?” His voice brimmed with decisiveness.
Violette tilted her head to the side. “You hate them anyway, as well as they don't like you. So, what does it cost you to tell me their weaknesses?”
“You asked me so many questions, I see the only fair option is you telling me something about you,” he said all of sudden.
These words truly impressed her, her mouth nearly flew open. She couldn't believe Mr. Selfish would want to know something about her.
“I thought I am very easy to read to you,” she teased.
“Yes, you are not a mystery,” he confirmed serenely, “but I want to hear your point of view. It seems your father is a very important person to you.”
