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    Summary

    The guards grab Dazai, and he relaxes his body to prevent the injuries that tensing up would give him. Dazai feels his ability try to activate: it stutters and fades away almost immediately, the vampirism a symptom and not the root of the problem, and Bram Stoker several thousand miles away.

    "If you're anticipating that this will stop me–" Dazai begins, and Dostoyevsky cuts him off with an easy smile.

    "I don't need to stop you. Merely delay you further," Dostoyevsky says, voice easy and sweet. "They'll stop you in whatever way they see fit, although I don't know that violence is their preferred method. Since they can't subdue you simply by turning you…"

    Dazai's smile comes out more of a grimace, he's certain. "You're an even nastier fellow than you let on, you know."

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