You're the blood of my blood

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir sat listening to the droning of the fat man across the table from him. Nicolette listened to the drivel interestedly while Trahir busied himself going over details for an upcoming hunt in his mind.

"Back in '58 our ad stated "At 60 miles an hour the loudest noise in this Rolls-Royce comes from the electric clock," and that's still true today! Our engines have been installed in planes..."

Trahir had finally had enough. He knew everything the fat man was saying and his sweat, his humanity, it was grating on the vampire. He reeked of desperation to make this sale and obviously the after-hours meeting had followed a day where he'd been on his feet and moving his massive girth around too much. He reeked. Trahir raised a hand and cut him off. "I own a 2016 Phantom and until recently a 1925 Phantom. I know about your company. Put away your little brochures and stop trying to sell me on your company. It's a car I want and I have already picked it out. I want another 1925 Phantom II Jonckheere Coupe. Round doors. Black, leather and oak interior. Either you can acquire one or we have no further business as my next choice is a 1939 Delahaye Type 165 Cabriolet, not whatever you would be trying to sell me. So please, find the car, deliver the car or tell me that you are incapable."

Nicolette's eyes move between the two. Her master, though sounding bored was showing all the tells of irritation. There weren't many to pick up on unless you knew exactly what to look for.She hoped she wouldn't be seeing the salesman in the crypt the following evening. He seemed like a nice guy.

"Oh, yes, of course. That is a very... exclusive model. It will take me some time to call around. May I get back to you in a couple of days?" The thought of the commission from a sale like that had the fat man near-giddy.

"That would be fine. Nicolette, please give Mr. McDougall here my card. I have another meeting to attend."

Rising from the table he handed Nicolette a credit card to pay for the drinks and the food on the table before them. "I'll expect to hear from you in short order then."

Once the vampire had left, Mr. Evan McDougall, car salesman extraordinaire looked from the broad back of the retreating man to the beautiful tattooed woman in front of him. "Your employer is brutal in his negotiations my dear." He filled his mouth with another bite of chicken piccata and washed it down with a sip of the pinot grigio in front of him.

"The thrall tilted her head to the side. "Mr. McDougall, you have no idea." She smiled sweetly, sipping her merlot before setting it down.

Trahir stepped from the Newborough vertical mall and made his way toward the parking lot, pulling his phone from his pocket. He had three missed calls already during the short time the fat man had wasyed. He recognized all three numbers. One was more important than the rest. He hit the callback button.

"Saint Augustine Gator Farm, John speaking, how may I help you?"

"This is Mr. Trahison from Harper Rock, I'm calling after my boys."

"The two Niles?"

"Yes, I'm ready to receive them. Send them on home."

Hanging up the phone, Trahir decided that despite having to sit and watch the fat man stuff his face earlier... the night was looking up. The second missed call could wait, just his lawyer regarding some property he'd been inquiring after. The third one though...

He hits the callback button once more and leans against a column next to the 2016 Phantom, Nicolette's car.

Mortll. Probably calling to set a time and date for their hunt and outing on the Venus. Trahir wasn't in any sort of rush for that to be honest. His schedule wouldn't likely permit it for weeks to come. Still... maybe she would surprise him. Back to the column the Killer brings the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring, waiting.

[Mortll]

Mortll felt a slight annoyance as the phone went straight to voicemail. This was one conversation that was best held live not over some messaging system . How that young woman had described him had piqued Mortlls interest caring thoughtful full of fun. The Mr Trahison Mortll knew was thoughtful all right. Thoughtful enough to bury your body for anything he might perceive as a insult. Mortll knew that the blood sometimes effected change . It seemed to have effected Mr Trahison in a big way . Mortll listened to the machine go through its message and hung up . It gave her just enough time to make it to her apartment and kick off her shoes sitting before a roaring fire before the machine started its annoyance .
She glanced at the screen the number that appeared made her smile . She answered the call "Mr Trahison I do believe that we have something to discuss. She sent him the image of the flier she had taken. Come to my apartment West towers 403 That is you is it not ?"

[Trahir Trahison]

...

The thoughts, the voices, the lusts, desires, ambitions, everything... stopped dead, silenced by a form of shock as he viewed the picture on the screen in front of him. He stood in silence in the parking garage for a few seconds that seemed more an eternity. Instantly his inner Darkness screamed "trap!" while at the same time his body reacted, channeling energies beyond the ken of most mortals into veins and muscles that should have long rotted.

West Tower stood before him, a monolith, a testament to a bloodline he had very little reason to know other than owning a place within the building given their name. The phone is still raised to his head, the silence deafening as second tick by and the calm murderer tried to compose his thoughts. "Miss Mortll. I'm on my way up. You have my undivided attention."

Trahir walks into the building, his presence barely registering with the front desk. He is after all a resident. He skips the elevator and takes the stairs two at a time. It's not long before he is standing before a door with the beautifully inscrided number on a plaque staring back at him.

403. Though he has been invited in and could simply force the door, unleash his wrath and demand answers. Instead he stands silent and still for a long minute. Eyes closed the Killer focuses. Everything seems turbulent within his mind.

Careful... very careful....

He reaches out, his knuckles leaving dull, deadened thuds on the wood in their wake.

[Mortll]

Mortll didn't bother to get up from the comfortable moracin cushions she had draped herself across. She simply said "Come in ". The serving table before her had a bottle of Arbor vitae innocence set upon it with a couple of wine glasses. She half expected Mr Trahison to come in here demanding answers or thinking that this is some sort of trap or prank after all it is what he would do to someone if he thought of it .

Mortll figured a straight forward approach to this would be best for him and the girl. Mortll had a good idea the woman was in dire straights for just giving a rats *** about the ******** she was looking for. Yes Mr Trahison was a ******** created by a sire that didn't give a **** about what she had turned loose on the world. Now it was coming to bite Mr Trahison in a bad way .

[Trahir Trahison]

Pushing the door open from the side of the doorway, he gives a quick glance into the room using hyper-perception. Mortll is alone. The twin glasses on the table, the bottle of he favored vintage, Innocence, newborn blood rests between the glasses. The window behind her displays the room, no other bodies hidden within, at least not mortal. If they are of their kind he'd notice after they made a move on him.

His gun rests comfortably against his gloved hand, the heat of the summer far from bothering him. The lighting in the room is tasteful, flames lapping at a log in the fireplace and a single shaded lamp with some design the Killer doesn't immediately recognize. Comfort, the entire scene screams.

More than likely that is the intent, and for less dubious reasons he himself would go through all the effort for. Still, he had once trusted the woman within and found a blade in his flesh from her at-the-time lover. Why should he trust her now?

Curiosity. It was a given that whether he believed his own hide in peril, Trahir was going to do what Trahir would do. He silently acknowledged the weakness, holstering the gun in his hands and turning with near-preternatural speed to him the doorway with his impressive frame. Since they had last seen one another the Killer had grown another inch in height and another twenty-five pounds of muscle had added itself to his physique.

While it was true in most cases that the outward body shape of a vampire in no way foretold of their physical attributes, his Path was the exception to the rule, most of them continuing to grow after being turned. Eventually he may even become too large to fit into the world around him. He'd not yet planned for that eventuality.

Casuallly, as though he had never feared anything being amiss, Trahir closes the door behind him, locks it, slides the deadbolt in place and latches the chain. All of this is done with his back exposed to Mortll. There is even a pause between the last clasp sliding into place and the cold dead eyes of the vampire turning with the rest of him to face her.

He asks no questions. She called him. He knows she will say her piece. He simply watches her.

[Mortll]

Mortll watched the man carefully as he entered he defiantly wasn't relaxed. He was as cagy as a long tailed cat on a porch full of rocking chairs. Mortll smiled and gestured to the empty cushions next to the table "Have a seat Mr Trahison would you do the honors of pouring for us ?" She smiled "Then we can talk about this situation You told me once that you don't remember your past before you were turned ? I think that past remembers you "

[Trahir Trahison]

Trahir's even footsteps clip on the dark marble floor as he makes his way toward Mortll. His eyes remain on her though he doesn't relax his guard. Half expecting a surprise attack from the shadows, he none the less moves toward the seat.

Taking a seat as offered, the Killer reaches out, fingernails becoming razor claws. One of them pierces to cork of the bottle, popping it as the others on the hand hand keep the container in place on the table.

The mention of his past is interesting. His eyes move to the decor in the room, eyes scanning each reflective surface for any sign of movement. Though he wouldn't be able to see a vampire within a reflection, he might be able to see an object move out of place in time to react. His senses show him nothing though at the moment and he turns his gaze back to the woman next to him. She is lounging. Lounging... not a good sign. That means to him that she is comfortable and secure in her knowledge, the thing she has called him here for he presumes.

"My past..." he says, inviting explanation as he picks up the bottle, pouring her glass first before his own. He hands it toward her without another word, without expression, waiting behind an impassive mask.

[Mortll]

Mortll took the blood and took a long sip she smiled even though she had the idea that Mr Trahison didn't care of her mood " Well now that we are cozy Lets begin. I had a visitor today at the Voodoo and she was making and passing out those fliers with your picture on them..." she paused a moment "Jane called me when she saw what the young woman was printing out . I had a talk with the young lady and it seems she is your sister if that is indeed you. She is actively passing the fliers about town and has posted this up on the internet. She is very intent on finding her lost brother. So I offered her my help .... I tried to talk her out of using the fliers but she is a very determined young lady apparently her brother means a lot to her. I somehow think it would be better for her to find him sooner than later Her asking about town with these filers will only draw attention to you and if the young lady disappears even more so I think "

She watched him carefully as she ended her little speech He was going to take this either badly or worse.

[Trahir Trahison]

Stony-faced Trahir listens to her speak. He doesn't react immediately at the mention of flyers, sister, or his picture being posted up on the internet or all over town. His facial expression remains completely placid. He is like a duck. Calm and tranquil on the surface, paddling like hell underneath. His mind is reeling with this sudden development. He lifts his glass, takes a sip, sets it down on the table and leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled. He brings the tips of the index fingers to his lips and seems to freeze in that position a moment.

"Indeed..." His face all over the city... he had flipped out... as close to flipping out as the stoic Killer gets, when Velveteen have outed his name on Crownet. Not even his real name. The name he has chosen for himself. Finally he looks to Mortll. "You tried to dissuade her. Why?" Damn he should keep up with the local internet posts. He'd not even bothered with Crownet for weeks. Now this?

"Are you going to tell me it was out of the goodness of your heart Miss Mortll? There is more to this. What else?"

One shoe has dropped. Trahir waits seemingly calmly for the other.

[Mortll]

"The goodness of my heart no ... The well being of our little community is more like it having her out you as a vampire or having you under close scrutiny isn't a very good idea. So containing and minimizing her search efforts would seem to be a very good idea ... If she's contacted the authorities her disappearance wouldn't be a good idea ... So I have hired her as a waitress at the Voodoo and offered her help with a Private investigator I know a few here in Harper Rock of our kind that will play along ... If you wish to go that route or you can go and talk to the young woman and tell her you don't want anything to do with her. Its all really up to you How you want this handled it just happened to walk into my place instead of you finding it out on the street ."


She paused for a moment "There is one more thing from our conversation I gleaned that you have parents as well so your family is all alive and well " she frowned slightly. How to tell him that he had turned from a normal every day happy go lucky person into what he was now without sounding offensive was going to be a task. She needed to choose her words carefully .