Chapter Text
The city was alive somewhere beyond the brick walls, with its traffic, lights, and endless noise — but here, everything was quiet. Almost too quiet.
Stacey’s boots hit the damp pavement hard. Her breath came out in quick, shallow bursts as she skidded to a stop at the corner of a narrow alley, her body pressed against the wall, listening. Her fingers twitched near the hilt of her blade strapped behind her back, slick with her own blood.
She was running. Again.
Too many. Too fast. Too strong.
Demons were tracking her — not just by scent now, but by something deeper. They were evolving. She wasn’t prepared for that.
She clenched her jaw. She was the last one, the only remaining hunter in a world that had already begun to forget their kind.
She tried to calm herself, willing her pulse to slow. For a moment, there was silence. She exhaled.
Then—
A faint click of a shoe on stone.
She turned, instantly alert— but what she saw wasn’t a demon.
It was a girl. Just… standing there.
Calm. Steady. Staring straight at her as if she’d been waiting.
Stacey froze. Her eyes narrowed. The girl was wearing casual clothing, but a stance that didn’t look unsure in the slightest. She looked human, yes — but also out of place.
The girl didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak. Just watched her.
Stacey felt something twist in her chest.
And then she heard it — low growling, distant, but approaching. Panic rose again in her throat.
She didn’t have time. No time to think, no time to question.
Without warning, she surged forward.
The girl’s eyes widened just as Stacey reached her, hand shooting out, covering her mouth before she could scream. She pushed them both into the shadow between two buildings, her back against cold stone, her body shielding the girl behind her.
“Don’t move,” Stacey whispered in a voice tight with urgency. Her breath was hot against the girl’s cheek. “They’re close.”
The girl’s eyes blinked up at her, wide and unafraid — and yet stunned, breath hitching beneath Stacey’s palm. She froze, not because she was afraid — but because, holy shit, this girl was close. She could feel her breath against her cheek. And even in the dark, she could make out the sharp lines of her jaw, the cut on her brow, the flicker of gold in her eyes.
And somehow, she looked... beautiful. In that “I’ve-seen-too-much-but-I-still-stand” kind of way.
Gay panic was an understatement.
Stacey didn’t look at her. Her focus was outside, listening — to the faint echoes, to claws scraping rooftops, to the shrill hum of evil getting closer… and then veering away.
She waited.
Ten seconds. Twenty. A full minute.
Silence again.
She finally pulled back, her hand falling slowly from the girl’s mouth. Her own chest was still heaving slightly, not from fear — she was used to that — but from adrenaline, from proximity, from the way the girl hadn’t looked away from her even once.
“They’re gone,” she muttered, taking a step back, trying to regain distance.
The girl tilted her head. “Who’s gone?”
Stacey hesitated. She couldn’t tell her the truth. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Snatchers,” she said flatly. “They’ve been chasing me all night.”
The girl blinked. Then, almost innocently, she looked her up and down — bruises on her arm, blood trickling near her temple, torn jacket, wild eyes. “You sure you’re not the snatcher?”
Stacey groaned. “Really?”
“You look like you just stole someone’s whole bank account.”
Stacey arched a brow. “You know what? For a stranger, you’re starting to be annoying.”
the girl chuckled, unfazed. “I’ve been told worse.” and she smiled
And then the girl’s expression changed. She noticed the blood on Stacey’s shirt. The tremble in her knees. The way her whole body leaned against the wall like it couldn’t carry its own weight anymore.
“Are you okay?” she asked gently.
“I’m fine,” Stacey lied.
“You’re barely standing,” the girl pointed out.
“I don’t need help.”
“You clearly do.”
“I don’t even know you,” Stacey snapped. “Why do you care?”
The girl crossed her arms. “So I’m just supposed to leave a half-dead stranger bleeding in an alley because I don’t know them? That’s messed up.”
Before Stacey could argue, she felt a soft but firm hand take her wrist, gently, but firm enough to keep her steady.
“Come on.”
“Where—?”
“My place. It’s safe.”
“You’re not seriously—”
“Too late.” The girl was already walking, tugging her along.
And Stacey… let her. She stumbled a little, still too tired to fight back. Her body had given up the moment the demons vanished. Her pride would catch up later.
—
They didn’t talk much on the walk.
The girl didn’t ask questions. She just walked with sure steps, her hand still lightly gripping Stacey’s wrist, like she feared the girl might collapse or vanish at any second.
And Stacey… she didn’t fight it.
The city passed in a blur — low lights, empty streets, neon signs flickering in puddles. Stacey’s boots felt heavier with every step, her body catching up with the exhaustion she’d been suppressing for hours. She didn’t even notice when they stopped — not until she heard the soft jingle of keys and the creak of a door swinging open.
“This way,” she murmured, finally letting go.
Stacey blinked and followed.
It was a small apartment — not cluttered, just lived-in. A soft couch, a modest kitchen, shelves lined with books and a few potted plants that seemed surprisingly alive. A window cracked open to let the night in. Warm lights glowed gently from corner lamps, casting the space in a soft amber hue.
The girl with glasses glanced at her. “Sit,” she said gently, motioning to the couch.
Stacey hesitated. But her knees gave the answer for her, bending before her pride could argue. She sank into the cushions, a soft sound escaping her throat as pain caught up to her again.
The other one disappeared into a room, came back with a small med kit and a bowl of warm water.
“You really don’t have to do this,” Stacey muttered, her voice cracking.
“I know,” she said simply, kneeling beside her.
Stacey looked at her and noticed a name tag on her shirt. ‘ Jhoanna Robles’
So that’s her name, she thought.
Jhoanna opened the kit, pulling out gauze and antiseptic. She didn’t ask about the bruises, didn’t demand explanations. She just dipped the cloth into the water and reached for Stacey’s arm.
Jhoanna paused. “May I?”
A moment passed. Stacey nodded.
The touch was light. Careful. Her fingers were steady as she wiped away the dried blood, her gaze focused but calm. She didn’t look at Stacey’s face while she worked, as if giving her the space to breathe. Stacey, in return, watched Jhoanna — the way her brows furrowed slightly in concentration, the way she blew gently over the sting of the antiseptic like it would soften the pain.
This is unnecessary,” Stacey said, though her voice had lost its bite.
“Maybe,” Jhoanna shrugged, kneeling in front of her, opening the kit. “But it’s also the decent thing to do.”
“You’re so weird,” Stacey mumbled, eyes watching her every move. “You see a stranger bleeding and your instinct is to invite her home and bandage her?”
“I didn’t invite you in,” Jhoanna teased without looking up. “You just happened to bleed too close to my doorstep.”
That earned a tired snort from Stacey.
There was a quiet that settled between them then — not uncomfortable, just... heavy. The kind that said there were still too many things unsaid.
Jhoanna paused, wiping one last smudge of dried blood from Stacey’s temple. “You really shouldn’t be alone like this. Whatever you’re running from... it’s not just snatchers, is it?”
Stacey didn’t answer right away and Jhoanna didn’t press.
Instead, she reached for a small bandage and placed it gently on a cut near Stacey’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me,” she whispered. “But you should rest. You look like you haven’t in days.”
Stacey blinked, throat tightening slightly. “I haven’t.”
“Then you can stay here for the night. Couch is clean”
“…You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” Jhoanna smiled, standing up. “But at least I’m not bleeding in an alley.”
Stacey rolled her eyes, but her body sank deeper into the couch. Maybe just for tonight, she could stop fighting.
Maybe she could let herself rest.
The apartment had gone quiet.
A gentle hum came from the refrigerator, the occasional sound of the city drifting in through the open window. Stacey sat on the couch, her fingers brushing over the edge of the gauze Jhoanna had wrapped with such careful hands. Her body ached, yes — bruises and cuts, muscle soreness from hours of running, and the fatigue of constantly looking over her shoulder. But it was nothing compared to the weight in her chest.
She laid back slowly, the ceiling was unfamiliar, smooth and blank. Her eyes stayed open.
Her mind, however, spun.
It had been so long since she’d slept anywhere that didn’t reek of danger. So long since she allowed herself to be still. To not hold a weapon close. To not sleep with one foot on the ground, ready to bolt. The room was dim and safe and warm — and yet it made her feel raw. Exposed. Like the quiet was peeling something back.
Who even was she?
“Why do you care?” Stacey had asked. She still didn’t know.
And maybe it was that very thing — the unfamiliarity of it — that had her thoughts spiraling.
Because for someone who lived in a world of shadows and blood and near-death escapes, a stranger’s kindness was the most disarming thing of all.
She hadn’t had a home in years. Not really.
Places, yes. Safehouses. Outposts. But not this. Not warm lamps and freshly laundered sheets and someone saying “let me help you” without a catch.
She reached for the edge of the blanket and pulled it up to her chin, burying her face into the unfamiliar comfort. Let her eyes close.
Just for a while.
She would leave before morning. She had to. This wasn’t her world. Kind people only got caught in the crossfire. She’d done enough damage. Staying — even for one night — was selfish.
But even as she told herself that… she didn’t move.
She listened to the hush of the apartment. The occasional shifting of the city outside. And she let herself drift, for the first time in what felt like years, into sleep that wasn’t forced by exhaustion or fear, but by something gentler.
She would leave at dawn.
She just needed this one night.
This one breath of peace.
—
The sun was barely peeking through the slats of the blinds when Jhoanna stirred awake. A soft breeze filtered into the room, brushing against her cheeks and stirring the strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes.
She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from her face. For a brief moment, there was peace. The kind that lingers right before memory comes flooding back in.
And then it hit her — last night.
The girl. The bruises. The blood. The weight of another body breathing quietly on her couch, vulnerable and still.
Jhoanna blinked, fully alert now. She turned her head toward the living room — but the couch was empty. Pillows still indented from where someone had laid, but no sign of her.
Her brows furrowed.
She stood up, bare feet padding softly against the floor as she walked to the center of her apartment. The door was locked. Still chained from the inside. No sound of it ever opening.
Strange.
And then her eyes landed on the window. Wide open. The curtain fluttering lazily with the breeze.
Jhoanna sighed, dragging a hand down her face as she walked over to it. She peeked outside — nothing. No figure disappearing into the street below. Just quiet.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.
Of course she left. Of course she didn’t say anything. Not even a thank you. Not even a goodbye.
Jhoanna leaned her elbows against the window sill and rested her chin on her hands, eyes tracing the early morning skyline. The city was still half-asleep, glowing in gold. A soft haze blanketed the roofs and alleys.
She should be annoyed. She kind of was. But mostly, she was... curious.
Who was she?
That girl who crashed into her life like a storm wrapped in a bleeding body. That girl with fire in her eyes and walls around her heart. That girl who looked like she hadn’t slept in days but still carried herself like she had a war to win.
Jhoanna replayed her face in her mind — the sharp angle of her jaw, the softness of her lips, the tension always settled in her shoulders. How close she had been when she covered her mouth, how warm her breath felt on her cheek. How quietly she lied about being fine.
And then it struck her.
She never even asked her name.
The realization landed like a dull thud in her chest. It felt ridiculous — how someone could burst into her life for just a few hours, leave nothing behind but the faint trace of blood and silence, and still take up this much space in her thoughts.
Would she ever see her again?
Jhoanna leaned against the frame and whispered into the open air, “What were you running from?”
The wind had no answers. But her curiosity was wide awake now. And something in her gut told her — it wasn’t the last time they’d cross paths.
Not even close.
—
It had been three days since Jhoanna woke up to an open window and an empty apartment.
Three days since that strange girl — bruised, bleeding, breathtaking — vanished without a name, a thank you, or a goodbye.
Jhoanna tried to convince herself it didn’t matter, that it was just one weird night.
A girl in trouble. A decision made in instinct. A stranger she’d probably never see again.
Jhoanna hadn’t told anyone yet, but lately — the streets she passed on her way home looked different. Like shadows stuck to the pavement a little too long.
The same old man sitting on the same bench stared at her like he knew her name.
And sometimes, late at night, when she stepped into her apartment, she swore the hallway behind her door wasn’t as empty as it looked.
It was subtle. But it was there. A shift.
She told herself it was just stress. Just her imagination.
But imagination didn’t make the lights in her building flicker every time she got home.
Imagination didn’t explain the low humming sound she started hearing whenever she stood too still.
And it definitely didn’t explain the voice — soft, almost human — that whispered her name outside her window the night before.
She didn’t go to the window.
She didn’t even breathe.
She just stood there, one hand gripping the kitchen counter, the other on her chest, feeling her heart pound too hard against her ribs.
Something was wrong.
And she was starting to believe it had everything to do with that girl in black and all the things she didn’t say.
She shrugged everything off, until the incident.
It was a week later when it happened. She was walking home from her usual shift at the coffee shop. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few cabs flashing past and the distant hum of city traffic. She had her hoodie up, earbuds in — almost enough to drown out the feeling that someone was following her.
Almost.
At first, she ignored it. City paranoia, she told herself.
But when she passed by the alley behind the bookstore, she felt something cold trickle down her spine. A prickle of instinct she couldn’t reason away.
And when she turned around — no one was there.
No one... but the shadow that didn’t belong.
It was cast against the wall, tall and warped, shifting against the streetlamp light like it had a mind of its own.
Her breath caught.
She blinked once. Twice.
Gone.
The shadow was gone.
She went home shaken, barely remembering how she got there. That night she opened her laptop and searched about supernatural things, but nothing satisfied her mind full of questions.
She barely had sleep that night.
—
It happened fast.
One moment, Jhoanna was walking home from a late shift, her bag slung lazily over one shoulder, music faint in her ears again. The next, her vision spun — a gust of wind strong enough to knock the air from her lungs. The streetlight above her flickered violently, buzzing like it was about to explode.
Then came the growl. Low. Inhuman.
She turned, and there it was. No eyes. No clear form. Just a looming silhouette with hunger pouring off it in waves. It wasn’t like anything she had ever seen — not animal, not man. Something darker.
She stumbled back, her hands trembling, breath caught somewhere in her throat.
Her scream never made it out.
Because before it could lunge at her —
the girl who has been driving her insane was there.
It happened in a blink.
Leather jacket. Familiar scowl. Blade slicing through the air with unnatural precision.
And whatever it was let out a screech as if burning, recoiling like it had been scorched by her presence.
"Get back!" Stacey barked without looking behind her, holding one hand out to block Jhoanna’s path. Her other hand pulsed with something strange — glowing faintly, like runes etched into her skin.
The creature hissed — then vanished. Disintegrating into the dark as if it had never been there.
Silence fell. For a beat, neither of them moved.
Then Jhoanna finally whispered, shaken, “What... what the hell was that?”
But Stacey didn’t answer. Her jaw clenched. Her shoulders rose and fell too fast. She looked like she was going to be sick, or punch a wall. Maybe both.
“Come with me,” she muttered instead.
They reached Jhoanna’s apartment. It was the second time she had been pulled into this strange orbit with no warning, and her head was spinning just as much as the first.
Stacey stood in the center of her small living room like she didn’t know what to do with herself — or her thoughts. Her fists were balled. There were fresh cuts on her arm, shallow but angry. Her eyes had that same storm in them. Like she was one inch from breaking.
“Are you okay?” Jhoanna asked quietly, still trembling.
Stacey finally looked at her. “No”
The word was sharp. Raw. Unfiltered.
She took a breath and sat on the edge of the couch, dropping her head into her hands.
"I’ve been watching you," she said after a long silence. Her voice was hoarse.
Jhoanna blinked. “What?”
“For days. After... that night” she let out a humorless laugh. “God, that sounds insane.”
"Why?"
"Because I needed to know why demons kept showing up near you." She looked up, her gaze fierce and exhausted all at once.
"Do you know how rare that is? They don’t fixate like that. Not unless there’s something special about the soul they’re drawn to."
“Special?” Jhoanna repeated, clearly thrown off. “What are you talking about?”
"I don’t know!" Stacey burst, standing up. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. I just—there are thousands of people in this city. But for some reason, they keep finding you . And every time I get close enough to see it, to stop it, I feel like I’m going insane because none of it makes sense. You're not supposed to attract them like this.”
Her voice cracked toward the end.
Jhoanna could only stare. “Teka nga—anong pinagsasabi mo? Demons? Attracted to me ? You’re not making any sense!”
Stacey stepped back. Her hands were shaking now.
“I shouldn’t have come back tonight,” she muttered under her breath. “I should’ve just... let it go.”
But something inside Jhoanna pushed her forward. Her hand reached out, caught Stacey’s sleeve.
“No,” she said, steadier than before. “You don’t get to drop all this and run again. Sit down and explain, from the beginning.”
“Hindi mo alam kung anong pinagdaanan ko since that night” Jhoanna admitted to her “I just want some answers”
Stacey didn’t move for a while. Her jaw was clenched like she was holding everything back.
But eventually... she sat.
And Jhoanna, heart pounding and head full of questions, sat beside her — waiting.
The room settled into a kind of stillness.
Outside the window, the city moved on — neon lights flickering in quiet rhythm, a distant honk echoing faintly between streets. But inside, time felt softer, stretched thin by the silence that clung to the space between them.
Stacey sat hunched forward on Jhoanna’s couch, elbows on her knees, her hands knit tightly together. Her hair had fallen a little into her face, but she didn’t brush it away. She looked tired. The kind of tired that lived in the bones. The kind that didn’t sleep away.
Jhoanna watched her carefully, but she didn’t press. Instead, she moved quietly to the kitchen, took two glasses from the cabinet, and filled them with water. When she handed one to Stacey, the girl blinked — like she hadn’t realized how dry her throat was until just now. She muttered a soft “thanks” and took a long sip.
Jhoanna finally sat beside her. Not too close, but not far either.
“You don’t have to say everything all at once,” she murmured. “But I’m not going to look at you like you’re crazy. Not after what I saw tonight.”
Stacey let out a breath, shaky and low. “You probably should,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
“But I won’t.”
That made Stacey glance at her. Just briefly. Like she didn’t believe it, but she wanted to.
“I wasn’t supposed to care,” she said after a long pause. “That night, when I stayed at your apartment, I just needed somewhere to breathe. Somewhere to hide. I never meant to come back. I’ve always worked alone — that’s how I survive. That’s how I stay sane.”
She ran a hand through her hair, fingers trembling slightly. “But then I felt something. Around you. In you. Like the air changed when I was near you. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Jhoanna furrowed her brows, quiet. Her voice was soft when she spoke. “So you followed me?”
Stacey grimaced, guilt flashing across her face. “I know how that sounds. But I wasn’t trying to scare you. I needed to be sure.”
Jhoanna looked at her for a long moment, then sighed. “If I’m being honest... I felt something weird too. That night.” She tapped her fingers on the rim of her glass. “I didn’t know what it was. Still don’t.”
Another silence passed. A gentler one.
Stacey leaned back into the couch, slowly, like every motion was heavier than it should be. Her voice dropped even quieter, barely above a whisper.
“I’ve lost a lot of people. Too many.”
A beat.
“And demons? They don’t just kill you. They strip away every reason you had for fighting. Every memory, every connection — they rot it from the inside out.”
She looked at her bandaged hand, then at Jhoanna again.
“But when I’m near you... they hesitate. It’s like they can’t get close. Like something about you burns too bright for them to touch.”
Jhoanna’s breath caught. “Bakit ako?”
Stacey shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.” Her voice cracked on that last word.
Then, slowly, her body sagged back into the cushions. The fight in her voice ebbed, like the tide pulling away from shore.
“I’m tired, Jhoanna,” she said. “More than I’ve ever been.”
It was the first time she said her name.
Jhoanna didn’t respond right away. She simply stood up, went to the hallway cabinet, pulled out a small blanket, and came back to gently drape it over Stacey’s shoulders. The hunter didn’t resist — only looked up at her with something unreadable in her eyes. Gratitude, maybe. Or something deeper.
“You can rest here,” Jhoanna said softly. “We can continue tomorrow okay? So, no more questions for now, no expectations. Just rest.”
Stacey nodded faintly, her eyes already half-lidded.
And for the first time in a long while, she allowed herself to lean against something — someone — without fear.
—
The early morning light filtered through the curtains made Jhoanna awake. She blinked slowly, pushing herself up from the armrest she had fallen asleep against, still in the same spot on the couch where Stacey had finally dozed off the night before.
Except now Stacey wasn’t asleep.
She was awake, sitting quietly on the floor beside the couch, back against it, arms resting on her knees. Her gaze was distant, fixed on the muted sunlight dancing on the hardwood floor. Jhoanna could see the fatigue still sitting behind her eyes, but also the way her guard had slipped just a little.
“You always wake up this early?” Jhoanna asked, voice raspy from sleep.
Stacey glanced back at her, the faintest of smiles forming at the corner of her lips. “Habit.”
Jhoanna stretched her arms, yawning softly. “You didn’t sleep much.”
“No,” Stacey admitted, “but it was enough.”
They let the quiet settle again. It wasn’t awkward. It felt… okay. Like maybe there didn’t need to be words filling every space.
But then Jhoanna squinted a little, like she was realizing something.
“Wait,” she muttered, shifting to sit cross-legged on the couch. “I never even asked.”
Stacey tilted her head. “Asked what?”
“Your name.”
A beat. Then a soft, amused chuckle left Stacey’s lips. “After everything…ngayon mo lang talaga naisip tanungin pangalan ko?”
“Well, sorry,” Jhoanna said, brushing her hair back from her face. “Kung hindi ka lang sana tumakas that morning, then I’ve already known by now” rolling her eyes
She shrugged with a slight grin. “I think I deserve a pass.”
Stacey smirked, just a little. “Fair.”
Jhoanna leaned forward, elbows on her knees now, mirroring Stacey’s position on the floor. She watched her with quiet curiosity. “So?”
Stacey glanced up at her. There was a long pause, as if she were deciding whether to say it — but the edge in her shoulders had softened.
“Stacey.”
Jhoanna let the name sit on her tongue a second, repeating it internally before nodding. “Stacey,” she echoed, tasting it like something familiar and new at once.
“Mmhmm,” she hummed. She leaned back against the cushions. “So…do you want to explain what happened that night?”
Stacey hesitated — visibly. Her jaw tensed. But for some reason, maybe because of the way Jhoanna asked, without pressure or judgment, just quiet curiosity — she gave in.
“I’m a hunter,” she said finally, voice low. “A demon hunter.”
Jhoanna blinked, the silence between them suddenly heavier.
Stacey waited, ready for disbelief, mockery, maybe even fear. But Jhoanna only tilted her head again and said, slowly, “Like… an actual demon hunter?”
Stacey nodded.
“Is that a full-time job, or…?”
Stacey blinked, a small scoff escaping her. “You’re taking this suspiciously well.”
Jhoanna only smiled at her, waiting for her to continue.
“I’ve been tracking movement for months,” she said after a beat. “They’re getting more aggressive. Smarter. That night… there were too many. Stronger than I expected.”
“And that’s why you tackled me in an alley.”
“I thought you were going to scream,” Stacey muttered.
“I was,” Jhoanna admitted, laughing quietly. “I mean, a girl running full speed, covered in blood, grabbing me out of nowhere? Can you blame me?”
“No,” Stacey sighed, rubbing a hand down her face. “But I couldn’t risk them hearing you.”
Jhoanna nodded at her and they sat there in silence again, the air between them softer now.
“So…” Jhoanna said, her voice warm and teasing, “Stacey the demon hunter.”
Stacey rolled her eyes.
Jhoanna grinned, tucking her knees up to her chest. “I’ve got to admit… that’s kind of hot.”
Stacey gave her a flat look, but the pink in her cheeks betrayed her.
Jhoanna chuckled, and leaned her head against the back of the couch. “You’re weird, but I think I’m keeping you around.”
And Stacey strangely didn’t argue.
In the silence that followed, neither rushed to fill the space — there was only the raw, unspoken understanding between them. They were no longer strangers who just happened to cross paths; they were two souls tangled in a story that neither fully understood yet. And somehow, despite the fear and confusion, that felt like the beginning of something real — something worth facing, together.