Well. That was new, at least to Soma, and Dracula's memories weren't supplying anything useful just at the moment - probably because whatever had wrested control of his powers from him was dampening the influence that Drac's soul had on Soma's own as well.

Dampening, but not nullifying. That was the key here, and so long as it wasn't doing the latter, anyone who knew the feeling of Dracula's power would be out for his blood. Half of them would be doing it for his own damn good, too, which just made the whole situation boatloads more dicey.

Taking an instinctual half-step back and pivoting to the side, Soma barely managed to slip the strike, the scrape of steel on blood-red steel sending sparks flying from the combat knife he'd plucked from the depths of his coat. "Can we talk about this?" he asked, backsliding a good five feet to give himself room to maneuver - and consequently prevent her from hitting him at close range with something more destructive.