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The evening was quiet so far, though having yet to check the Crownet, Habren had little doubt there would be something brewing. Wasn't there always, after all? If people weren't fighting, they were bitching about something or trying to pick a fight with someone. It was incessant and boring, and exhausting all at the same time and for a long moment, she had to really wonder if it had been wise to create so many in their image so soon after rising. This thought had only been compounded after a failed attempt to pull the City together, one that had been hijacked and sabotaged by those she had thought were more intelligent and mature than they had proven themselves to be, and Habren had retreated once more from public life. There was little reason to do more than cocoon herself away with her husband and simply enjoy being alive, alone together in their pleasant little bubble, and ignore all that was going on around them for awhile. If the Kindred wanted to tear one another apart, so be it.

Back to the way it had been before.

And that was more than fine with Habren; she and Mircea had been accused many a time of being entirely absorbed in one another without thought or care for anything outside of them, so why not let it be truth for once? Why not recharge, away from the drama, the dreary day-to-day and do precisely that?

It was heaven. She found herself wishing they had indulged sooner and more often, for longer bouts of time. After all, with nearly two hundred years still to make up for, why should or would they hold back any longer?

Weeks of this had passed, long enough that Habren decided it was once again time to check in and see if anything worthwhile had come up, or anything of note. The phones were always on, but they remained silent as ever. She settled before the computer, not inclined to give herself a headache with technokinesis - she was certain she'd have one by the time she was through, anyway - and started with the family Crownet. A sigh escaped her lips over what she found there, but as she and Mircea had yet to be called upon for input or assistance, she determined they should stay out of it for the time being - time and experience had taught her they were damned if they did and damned if they didn't, after all. If the lineage needed them, she was certain they'd let them know.

Next stop was the City Crownet - more drama, more ridiculousness, but generally all seemed quiet in the City. And then, finally, the bounty lists. Just to ensure none of her own were on it; this was something she checked near-daily and usually found herself pleasantly relieved and comforted that they were, for the most part, flying well under the radar.

But tonight, she was surprised to see the list quite full. Her brows drew together as she ran down the names there; none were any she recognized, either. Even stabs of telepathy didn't give her much to go on. With her jaw set, she looked up over the edge of her screen and called out to Mircea.

"Love? I think you should come take a look at this..."

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It was one of those nights; the ones where the hungry, feral beast inside took full precedence and drove the male out and forced him into acts of such horrible, sadistic cruelty that he often broke down for nights, weeks at a time when he had finally sated both his lust for blood and for death and his mind had cleared once more. Domenic found, after these strange bouts that had gone on for well over two years now, that he swung between rationalizing things away as being necessary for his own survival, and near-madness, grief and disbelief that he was capable of such awful things at all.

When he was in the thick of it, of course he thought it was necessary. He was hungry - starving, if he was being truthful - and nothing but the terrifying prospect of hot, thick, flowing blood had ever touched it or soothed the gnawing feeling away enough to think clearly again. Actually, it was the only thing that didn't make him ill, no matter how hard he tried. And so, why shouldn't he feed off of people? Or the occasional animal? By the time he ventured out, his need was immense and, to him, far more important than the lives he took.

Oh yeah - the animals. As if mindlessly killing people for their blood wasn't frightening enough. He had once snapped out of the grip of starvation to find his entire body wrapped around a slowly-dying bear out in the wilderness, sucking the creature dry with those crazily sharp teeth. He had panicked for a moment there, realizing there was a sharp sting where the beast had clawed deep into his side and other places, but he had been even more freaked out to watch the wounds stitch themselves back together in a few short hours. This, if anything, had pushed him more toward the belief he was losing his grip on reality. After all, how the hell was any of this possible?

And so, there he was. Another night, another rampage, after weeks of denying his need, of trying to subsist on the taste of his own blood, or, occasionally and when he got over his initial disgust, worrying at a raw steak or two to pull every last drop of vitae from the flesh. It was pathetic, in a way, but it got him through... until he finally snapped, that was. This time, it had taken him six weeks. He was ravenous, feeling more hollowed out than even that time he had as a little kid, the worst time, anyway, when his mom had gone on a week-long drunken, drug-fueled binge and forgotten all about him. Though that incident and its consequences had finally sobered her up enough to make her into a born-again, wanna-be Little Miss Susie Homemaker ever since, it had stuck with him, hard. And now, taken back to those discomforts, the pain and the moments of abject terror from his childhood, he couldn't fathom having to live with that kind of **** again. Not now, not when he was a grown man and capable of taking control of his own life and needs.

Or had been. As this night was proving, he had little to no control over several things and some of those things were staring him clear in the face. This time, in the form of a young woman who was breathing her last in his death grip. He could feel the death rattle starting in her lungs, could sense her heart beginning to skip beats and falter. But most of all, the accusing look in her eyes stabbed straight through to his little-heard-from conscience.

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly, laying her down on the cool ground and against the rough stone wall of a commercial building. He had finally come to somewhere in the Newborough section of the City, near the school, and could only think that he had laid final hands on some co-ed. She was sweet, young, with a curtain of dark hair that spilled halfway down her spine, reminding him of something... or someone, in a vague way. But he didn't try for long to remember as she finally breathed her last, her hand held firmly within his own all the while. When she went cold and still, he let her go and covered his face with his hands for a long moment, drawing a deep, panicky breath that barely soothed the trembling racing through him. How he wished he knew a way to take what he needed without ending so many lives! But there was no other way; he was sure of it. He had tried, but oftentimes the hunger was so great that no amount of willpower had been able to pull him away in time...

He drew another shaking breath and slumped against the wall beside the now-dead girl, wondering for the umpteenth time just what the universe had in store for the likes of him. He was nothing special, not at all. Surely the girl he had just ended had a lot more potential than he ever had. Surely, the lives he had taken had meant more than his, especially considering just what he had become. So, why spare him? Why, with all of his flaws and mediocrity, had he been able to survive starvation, fights with animals that could rend him to pieces, and even a failed attempt or two at suicide? To what purpose?

He didn't have a clue and now, finally feeling full again, he had to yet again stare down his demons and try to reason through his actions. Blood stained his mouth and chin, spattered against his clothing for the hundredth time, but he made no move to cover his crimes. Not yet. He held his head in his hands, trying to make sense of a need and a life he didn't understand, until soft footsteps finally brought his attention 'round once more.

"Filth," the new arrival muttered under his breath, his sword ... a ******* longsword... pointed squarely at Domenic's chest. A gasp spilled past his lips as he raised his head to take in the scene before him; he was a killer, for certain, but he was unarmed and this... weirdo... could definitely do some damage. Maybe even more than that bear had done.

"I don't want any trouble," he said, staring up at the guy with slowly-widening eyes as he carefully got to his feet, the dead girl all but forgotten... for now. Could he take a sword-wielding psycho without anything comparable on hand? He sure as **** could try...and if he failed? Well. Maybe it would go some way toward penance for all of his sins...

"Love? I think you should come take a look at this..."

Mircea frowned as he glanced across to where Habren sat at the computer, performing their nightly check of Crownet. It was an endlessly infuriating tradition for the two vampires who would both prefer to simply talk to people, but it seemed to be a trait of the age in which they found themselves that many were unwilling or unable to communicate effectively by any other means, particularly in a face to face situations. Which wasn’t to say that they were any more successful in their attempts to ‘communicate’ online (as he’d learned it was called), instead almost invariably devolving into some kind of slanging match he’d once heard referred to as ‘trolling’ but still didn’t quite understand fully. It seemed that they wanted to fight and yet none had the courage or skill to truly do so, instead relying upon nonsensical insults from the safety of their computer or the strange space within the minds of telepaths that allowed them to manipulate the internet without the need for technology to support their childishness.

Pushing himself to his feet, Mircea shuffled the short distance to peer over Habren’s shoulder and see what had her so concerned, expecting to see a Grigori obituary or the name of one of their own upon the bounty list, but instead being met with only confusion. There was indeed a name upon the list, several in fact, but one in particular seemed to have caught the attention. He leant down to get a closer look at the picture that accompanied the posting so that any hunters could know when they had happened upon the one they sought. It was somewhat grainy and blurred – a still from a security camera, no doubt – but… ”He looks a little like me…” He mused, pointing out the picture and listing he referred to. “A changeling, perhaps?”

It didn’t matter terribly if it was a changeling or just a striking similarity, as the bounty wasn’t upon Mircea’s head, but still there was something curious about it, like seeing himself in a mirror for the first time in centuries. Of course, neither that curiosity nor his and Habren’s concern did anything to determine what they should do about it. What might, however…

“Whose is he, love?”

There was restlessness about the blonde telepath that she just couldn’t shake. In the past few weeks, the only time Madison had left the Den was to search for Gambat after he had lost his ever loving mind. It had been a nice reprieve from the seemingly endless nights of hacking into local businesses, searching for source code. She had taken it upon herself to write scripts for the newer additions to the d’Artois brood, both of which had been sired by Doc but only one of whom she had met. While the work had been a good exercise of her mind, she found as time went on that she was starting to get headaches towards the end of the night that were getting progressively worse. Now that the scripts for Jacquiline and Catherine were finished, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore, she needed to get out, but first she would check the CrowNet as she did every night.

Within a few days after the death of Gambat, a fifty thousand dollar bounty had been placed on Madison’s head. There was no reason given but there was a definite idea of who it had been. There were very few people that she had interacted with in the weeks prior and only two of those people had an issue with her that she was aware of. Normally she would have ignored it but recently it seemed that the society she belonged to as a vampire had given up its staunch stance against independent bounty hunting. Ivy had fallen and so had Isabella Drake. No one so much as batted an eye about it. It made her hesitant to leave the safety of the Den but the long list of bounty offenders with excessively high numbers on their heads (though not quite as much as the price on hers) would keep people busy or so she hoped. She stared at this list now in her mind, not recognizing any of the names or faces but wondering what had happened recently that had caused the sudden surge in names to appear. For so long the bounty list had remained relatively empty. Shrugging it off, Madison disconnected from the CrowNet and grabbed her empty duffel bag before heading through one of the many fade portals in the room.

The portal room, now affectionately called the Depot, dissolved around her as she passed through the fade portal and stepped onto the platform of the Bullwood transit station. The former blood thief gave a look around, checking to see if anyone had noticed her abrupt appearance out of thin air and upon finding no one looking at her, she made her way down to the street and headed towards the hospital parking lot next door to retrieve her vehicle. The powder blue Stingray looked almost depressed as she approached its parking space. Madison ran her hand over the candy-coated paint in a reassuring caress as if to apologize for not driving the car on a regular basis before letting herself in the driver’s seat. She smiled as she turned the key in the ignition and listened to the vehicle start up immediately before she threw it in reverse and pulled out of the space.

The drive to the Crown Trailer park took Madison over a half an hour since she avoided the Wickbridge district by driving through Gullsborough, Westwall and the western edge of Coastside before entering Stag Heath. Normally she didn’t drive her car through this part of town, too worried that someone might mess with it but she didn’t intend to be in the area long. All she was doing was stopping by the trailer she owned so she could check the hydroponics equipment she had set up inside. Originally she had bought all of it to start an illegal grow operation but when rituals had been discovered, Madison had found that regular old flowers could make her almost as much money as marijuana and were definitely less risky. For the most part the revenue made from the flowers had already paid for the equipment and now it was an inexpensive way to contribute to the d’Artois.

After clipping her flowers and wrapping them up, the telepath got back into her car and headed south into Newborough, her favorite hunting grounds for crafting parts. As always, she drove down to where the Harper Rock University was and took advantage of their student parking since it was an enclosed lot with security. All she had to gain access to that was sign up for a few online classes. Even though the classes were online, her technically being a student opened up the rest of the campus to her but really she only wanted the parking, though the programming classes she had taken were proving to be highly useful.

Getting out of the car, Madison used the clicker to lock the door and set the alarm before making her way off campus property and towards the industrial section of the district nearby. Since it was relatively late at night, there were few people around. A few students here or there, going to and from night classes or heading out from the library after hours of studying. Nothing that really peaked her interest as she walked. Hitching the strap of her duffel bag up higher on her shoulder as she crossed the street, Madison started to pay closer attention to the buildings she was passing. She was on the hunt for factory type buildings that would have a specific volatile chemical for use in one of the traps that she liked to make. It had been over a month since she’d gone looking for it, so she wasn’t quite sure anymore which buildings had good stock of it. As she passed the mouth of an alleyway, she decided to duck down it and enter into one of the buildings from the back. What she hadn’t expected to find were two men, one with a longsword pointed at another with the body of an obviously dead girl lying on the ground.

Stopping in her tracks, Madison’s periwinkle gaze slid from one man to the other and knew instantly that both were vampires. Taking a closer look at the one covered with blood, she got the strange feeling that she had seen him before, along with the sense of familiarity she got whenever she met another vampire of her bloodline. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked at him, trying to place where she had seen him before when it dawned on her that he was one of many she had seen on the CrowNet bounty list just an hour or so before and that probably meant that the guy with the sword was a hunter.

Madison’s mind raced as she tried to figure out her best course of action. She was completely against the bounty system, seeing it as a ridiculous way to uphold the masquerade. How anyone could believe that the killing of one another lessened the human’s knowledge of the vampire race was beyond her. There were much better ways of restricting knowledge in her head. If it weren’t for Tytonidae’s new initiative to kill anyone aiding offenders, Madison would be more forward with her help to them but instead she had yet to figure out a way to discreetly help them without bringing deadly attention to her. The man in front of her didn’t look like any of the Ty members that she knew of but that wasn’t saying much since she barely knew even half of the members that Ty probably had. She had heard there were upwards of forty active members and Madison could only name about ten to fifteen that she actually knew about. There was no way she could walk away from this though. Not when it was right in front of her and she had the inkling that this bloodied man was somehow related to her. Clearing her throat, Madison took a few steps towards them, “Is there a problem here gentlemen?”

Habren shook her head as she scanned the list again, her gaze settling upon each one, trying to see if any faces seemed familiar; the names certainly were not. "They don't seem to have known sires," she murmured in reply, shifting slightly in her seat and resting her chin on her hand. "I cannot glean any information than what is posted here, either," she said, tapping lightly at her temple, as she turned to look up at her husband.

"But such a long list of unknowns... it is troubling. What does it all mean, do you think?" She didn't expect Mircea to have any of the answers, but it was definitely piqueing her interest...not to mention her worry. That he had honed in on one man in particular was curious as well, and as she took a longer look, she did note a certain likeness to the man looking over her shoulder. Her brows drew together as she focused on him, trying hard to pick out any further details, anything at all, but came up empty every time.

"Do you think we should do anything?

-------------------------------------------------

“Is there a problem here gentlemen?”

Dom's head snapped up, taking his attention away from the weirdo with the sword for a split second as he took in the sight of the suddenly-appeared blonde. His eyes widened slightly; he didn't want anyone else getting mixed up in his current mess, and possibly injured. He was no longer a danger, but this dude very obviously was. And then there was the clear implication of his most recent murder being seen to consider. ****. He was probably going down this time; caught, even by someone this bizarre, with a second witness now to boot.

What to do, what to do...

He was weighing his options when the guy with the sword turned on the blonde, teeth bared in a hiss. Teeth that looked an awful lot like his own new ones... he blinked, sobered for a moment by that revelation, but he stayed quiet and shoved the thought from his mind, trying to assess his next moves.

"Back off, woman. This one's mine," the sword-guy growled, taking a step closer to the blonde and away from Domenic. He used the opportunity to start inching away; there was no way in hell he was sticking around - no reason to, after all. The college chick was dead, and these two could do whatever they wanted, as far as his panicked mind was concerned. So far, he'd gotten away and safely back home every single time these incidents happened - he was good at finding an out and when this one appeared, he took it. Why waste even the slightest chance? He started running then, faster than he believed possible.

But something stopped him up a few blocks away. A niggling thought that he couldn't shake. What if that woman ended up much like the girl he'd killed? Or the many, many others? With a sigh, and a strong effort to push the urge to turn around back down, he pivoted and crept quietly back toward the street he'd left behind, zipping his jacket to cover most of the evidence of his crimes that was quickly drying into a stiff, tacky mess on his shirt. His conscience was still there, as he'd been reminded time and time again, only this time, it was giving him a chance to help save a life, he hoped, rather than torment him over the ones he'd taken.

Careful, on the lookout for more witnesses and the mysterious two others as he moved, he stepped closer, listening for any sound or sign of what might be going on down the darkened, run-down street.

Mircea’s frown grew deeper and deeper the more he considered the list and the longer he stretched out his senses to try and get some idea about any of them only to come back with naught. He hadn’t Habren’s abilities to see all that there was to see, their health, their abilities, even how tired or energetic they were if she stretched herself, but he could usually get something about them. In these, there was nothing, as if they were completely detached from the vampiric community and the bloodline that had birthed them to this life.

Again and again his eyes were drawn back to the same name on the list, to that photograph and the owner’s similar features. The two couldn’t be mistaken by anybody in possession of their faculties and who knew either one of the men, but either could certainly fit the profile of the other should the police (or an unwise hunter) be in search of one or other. Whenever he stretched his thoughts in the direction of the male, there was a strange sensation, too, a familiarity he couldn’t quite place. The two had never met and if there was Grigori blood in him, it didn’t seem strong enough to be even close to immediate family, but instead would surely be nine or ten generations down, at least and yet… That unusual tingle felt stronger, more like when he looked towards the likes of Leiren or Ariadne – the children of his children.

Something very unusual was going on, that much he was certain of.

”Can you find this one, love? There’s… Ah, something, but I do not know what…” He asked, calling Emilian to his side at the same time and pointedly ignoring the glare the wraith gave him every time the two were in the same room. While they waited for his Habren to see what could be gathered about the young rogue’s whereabouts, Mircea ensured that Emilian took in every detail of the photograph until finally sending him on his way with a terse command to ”Find him. Call me immediately when you have.”

"Back off, woman. This one's mine," the sword-guy growled, taking a step closer to the blonde and away from Domenic.

An eyebrow arched over a pale blue eye that shown with amusement. Madison didn't budge as the aggressor moved towards her a step. She wasn't going to show this man fear. As far as she could tell and see, he was acting alone by his use of the word 'mine.' Her shoulder-length blonde hair fell forward over her shoulders as she shook her head with a smile and responded to the man, "I highly doubt he belongs to anyone but himself."

Now that the man wielding the sword had his back turned to Domenic, he wasn't able to see the bloodied bounty offender begin to inch away. Madison was still facing him but tried to keep her focus on the man with the weapon so as not to draw attention back to Domenic. Her right hand moved to her waist to push the side of her open jacket away from in front of her so her hand could rest upon the handle of her glock in its holster. The movement was more for show than it was intent. If at all possible, Madison was hoping to figure out a way to save Domenic from the blade without having to get violent herself. She knew it was a very slim chance, vampires in her experience were extremely prone to violence and those who actively hunted bounties seem to revel in the sport.

The hunter narrowed his eyes at her and took another step towards the telepath, beginning to raise his sword as he did so. It was then that Domenic took the opportunity to run. The sounds of his feet hitting the pavement drew both of the others attention. The hunter spun around and cursed as the bounty offender sped up to a pace that only those that had walked the path of a Killer could muster. Within a blink of an eye the bloodied man had disappeared from sight.

"You ******* *****!" The words roared out of the hunter's mouth as he lifted his weapon in a swinging motion as he turned back towards Madison.

While she had been expecting the attack before the offender had ran, her guard had slipped slightly when Domenic had zipped down the alleyway. Madison tried to dodge the swinging blade but her reflexes had reacted a split second too late and the blade bit down into her calf. A cry of surprised pain escaped her mouth as she fell to the ground. Rolling across the gritty pavement away from the hunter, Madison managed to pull her glock out of its holster as she did so. With her back on the ground, she raised the gun and fired point blank at the man.

The hunter ducked out of the way even though Madison's shot went wide of its mark. The telepath scrambled to get back on her feet but pain shot through her calf and up into her leg as she tried; causing her to stumble when she tried to put weight on it. Her trying to get back to a standing position gave the hunter enough time to try and take a good stab at her again. This time she was ready for it though and managed to roll out of the way of the bloodied metal as it came towards her. Gritting her teeth she pushed the pain of her calf down and got back to her feet. She had gone through far worse than this when she had gone toe to toe with Ivy in the junk yard.

Madison quickly put distance between herself and the bounty hunter by back-stepping a few paces. She started to raise her handgun to take aim at him once more but changed her mind last second, brought her hand to her temple and focused instead on pushing horrifying illusions into his head. The power worked as Madison filled the man's mind with images of zombified wolves, fadebeasts and other monsters coming after him. Hordes of the creatures surrounded him in his mind and the hunter panicked, swinging his sword about wildly.

Habren watched as Mircea scanned the names again, noting the way his gaze seemed to narrow as he re-read over each short dossier beside each photo, and as her eyes remained on him, she also noted how he kept going back to the same one; the young male who bore a striking resemblance to himself. Her head tipped slightly to one side as she tried to place him, as she practically forced her mind's eye backward and tried to find the one to whom the young male might belong. An aching head and a gasp of startled breath was all that effort got her as a flash could be felt somewhere deep in her memories, followed by a familiar, blunt "No." She knew the Voice well; it was her guide, the one that had always been with her since her mortal nights and so too did she understand the implications; it was protecting her from something. The question was, what?

She looked up as Mircea spoke, then, shaking the Voice from her head as she focused instead upon her husband. Could she find him? Habren was a pretty decent tracker, for certain... but something had little warning bells ringing off for her. Red flags were all over the place on this task. Still... he was right. There was something about the young male. As he called his blasted, mirthless wraith over and commanded the spirit of his first childe to action, she took a deep breath and nodded.

"I can try," she said quietly, closing her eyes and calling upon her abilities to focus on the young male and his name for a long moment. Finally, she was able to sense something...

"He is in Newborough," she breathed the words out as her eyes opened again, staring sightlessly for a moment but certain of this information, especially when she was able to catch a glimpse of the location from the male's perspective. "Somewhere near to the university... Let me call Maxwell to assist...." Her own wraith hated Emilian with a fiery passion he was only too pleased to let be known, but the pair worked oddly well together when they were needed. Together, she knew, they would find this strangely familiar young man and hopefully... hopefully... they could get to him before it was far, far too late.

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"Oh, ****," came his first thought upon arriving back to the scene of his last crime. The blonde was bleeding profusely from a leg wound and the sword guy was spinning around in wild circles and swiping at the air, almost blindly, with his giant sword. Dom could scarcely believe that the chick was still standing, or that there were crazy people who ran about with swords around here; Harper Rock was turning into one damned strange place when he stopped and really thought about it. He'd heard plenty of weird stuff in the news lately, but this, being caught up in the middle of the chaos... this was different.

His hands smoothed over his jacket, looking for the gun he'd picked up weeks ago in an effort to end this tormented, messed up existence. An effort that had failed, because he'd woken up a few nights later, considerably weakened and in a good amount of pain, but still alive. He'd carried the weapon and some extra ammo ever since, for protection.

The gun filled his hand, lending him a modicum of relief as he took a shooting stance and waited for the perfect moment. When it came, he stepped out from the shadows and squeezed off a few rounds after ensuring the blonde wasn't in his line of fire. He watched, gratified, as the sword guy fell to the ground, though he didn't appear to be anywhere near dead yet.

Taking advantage of the moment, Dom raced over to the chick and tugged at her arm. "Come on... we gotta get out of here. Now."

Unaware that the dark haired bounty offender had returned to the alley, the sound of his gun firing caused Madison to jump in surprise. Her mouth dropped open as the hunter fell to the ground and her hand tightened its grip around the glock. Before she could even turn around to see who had taken the other man down, the person was tugging on her arm. Her gun raised as she looked at who had hold on her but lowered it immediately when she saw it was the bloodied man from before.

"Come on... we gotta get out of here. Now."

As if on cue, sirens started off in the distance. Madison's head tilted towards the sound as she nodded to Domenic and started to put her gun back into the holster. Without word she began to follow him in the direction he was pulling her, pushing through the pain in her leg. It was that pain that reminded her she needed to get her leg patched up and he needed to get cleaned up. Her mind raced to where she could lead him. The closest place was her trailer but she had never taken anyone there besides Blake before. But there was no time for balking at the possible embarrassment her little trailer could bring. They needed a place to recoup. If one bounty hunter had tracked him down, it was only a matter of time before more were tailing after them.

"Hey," Madison touched Domenic gently, "Head towards Crown Trailer Park. I've got a place there we can lay low in and get cleaned up."

She hoped he would go with her. Madison didn't quite understand why he had come back. He had the chance to escape, had done so but then came back to get her. Chivalry didn't seem to be a common trait amongst humans let alone vampires. There was no reason for him to return, it was extremely risky and possibly stupid of him to do so. Part of her was glad he had though. At least now she may be able to do some good beyond distracting one solo hunter.

Mircea waited impatiently while the two wraiths went about their work, knowing that they would be faster and more thorough about the task than either he or Habren were capable of, but hating the minutes of being idle that stretched between the initial tracking and the success that would surely follow. Having never watched Emilian and Maxwell orchestrate their hunts, he was never quite certain if the two worked as a unit or in competition with each other, but given the undoubted results they produced when both set to the same task, nor did he mind what their methods were and he knew that, soon enough, one or other of them would return word of the man’s exact whereabouts. That knowledge, however, didn’t stop the frustrated fidgeting of his fingers against Habren’s shoulder or the continued scanning of the list to see if anything upon it changed, be it a new name appearing or, gods forbid, one suddenly disappearing from sight.

”Emilian has him, love,” he said at last, feeling the pull of his wraith at long last and a strange sort of communication of more detailed information: Where and under what circumstances the boy could be sought out. ”He is not alone… A blonde Emilian claims to recognise, but cannot place,” he added, as if such minimal information were any surprise from the wraith who so often did the bare minimum he had to in order to follow his master’s commands, ”a mortal, dead and… Ah, gods help him, a bounty hunter. Of course.” He might have liked to curse at their luck, but it was a rare occurrence that Mircea would allow such language to pass his lips, much less in the presence of his lady wife. He had kept so few proprieties about him over their centuries that he made particular effort to maintain those that remained. Still, it was a close thing that had his jaw clenched against loose tongue to keep his silence.

The question, then, was what to do. There was something about this boy, he was certain, and curiosity called loudly to him to investigate still further, but many of the city’s bounty hunters were not to be trifled with lightly, be they vampire or human (and, of course, Emilian had failed to specify which they might encounter upon their arrival). There was something, though, something he couldn’t quite shake no matter how much he tried and so, with a sigh that did little to conceal the faintest of smiles tugging at his mouth, he turned his attention back to his wife. ”Do you fancy a hunt, love? Though I do not know if it shall be the boy or his predator we turn upon, it could be… Ah, interesting all the same…” he asked lightly, as if he were suggesting a walk in the park under the moonlight or an evening in with a blanket and an old black and white film.

Knowing his Habren was seldom one to turn down a promise of blood, whatever the source, he began settling his weapons upon him, Ileana taking pride of place as ever at his left hip. ”We should hurry, love, the fight is starting without us… Perhaps go on ahead and I will run to catch you up?” He suggested, knowing that, even if Habren teleported ahead of him, he would be alongside her almost instantly once he had the space to run freely as he knew he could. His hat and coat came last, though the Canadian autumn bothered him little compared to his mortal years in the Romanian wilds, he pulled on the ankle length leather coat all the same; it worked well to conceal his weapons and kept the humans from wondering about his hardiness too heavily. His hat… He simply enjoyed wearing, for the most part, though it did a remarkably good job of keeping rain from his eyes should the occasion call for it. It would also serve to keep his face from the sight of cameras and curious eyes alike, should the need for anonymity become apparent.

"Peace, Mircea," Habren soothed, her fingers running over his as he fidgeted, but it was for naught. She knew the man beside her far better than that; once something had him worried or entirely consumed, there was little to be done until he found himself satisfied by what answers there were to be had.

And finally, they did come. As Mircea filled her in on all Emilian had found, she mentally reached out for Max, finding he had stuck around the alley while Emilian had taken off for parts unknown. She looked at her husband then with a glimmer in her eye as he spoke of a hunt. Oh, how well he knew her, too.

"As if you had to ask, my darling," she said with a grin, standing smoothly as he already began preparing, moving to arm herself and slide into knee-high leather boots, flat-soled and all the better, she had found, for all manner of fighting. With one firm, lingering kiss pressed to his lips, she cloaked herself in the shadows and teleported off and away to the end of the alley, stepping quietly around the corner to try and see anything she could.

Her spine stiffened as she took in the slumped-over body of the hunter - thank the gods for that - and pressed tight against the brick wall, even if she couldn't be seen, as a blonde woman dashed past with the young offender close on her heels. Madison, she recognized, but... they both seemed to hold the same familiarity as those of her blood often did, and it unnerved her to sense the same of the man who followed her. Who was the mysterious young one? Who had made him, and abandoned him? A sudden pull toward him had her trembling, that same almost maternal draw she felt for each of her childer. No. No no. There was no way... her childer, scattered as they were, were all accounted for... weren't they?

She scrubbed a hand over her face as the male skidded to a halt for a moment, a look of wary familiarity about him, as well, as he stared all around the alleyway, his gaze raking over the place she stood as he unknowingly stared right at her, before he picked up his pace once more and followed Habren's own distant progeny off and into the night. With a shaking hand, she pulled her phone from her pocket, and waited for Mircea to join her.

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Dom sucked in a sharp breath - someone was there, he knew it. He knew it, the same way he knew there was more to him now than he quite understood. Instinct. It crawled over his skin like tiny bugs, freaking him out and making him feel twitchy, nervous. More so than usual. And then there was that scent, too, just a hint of it. Wildflowers. It haunted his dreams, his nightmares, every damned waking moment when he daydreamed and his subconscious tried to mess with him, dangling the vague memories that refused to be called back.

But the run, once he started back up, felt good. It cleared his head and gave him time to think. Why had he come back, anyway? What had drawn him in? Maybe it was because, for the first time in over two years, someone had done him a kindness. Someone who he hadn't been about to kill as he sought to slake his ever-burning thirst. Truth be told, it was the first bit of real contact he'd had with anyone throughout this whole time. She'd helped him, and so, of course he should help her...however he could.

"Crown Trailer Park," he repeated quietly, gruffly, several minutes after they'd started out. "I know the place," he finally said. Dom was a man of few words, but on this increasingly bizarre night, even fewer had left his lips than might be strictly usual. Whatever 'usual' entailed these days. Whatever there was to say, he was sure they'd have time once they reached their destination. Or at least, he hoped. He hoped that this was finally someone who could answer a thing or two about everything that had happened, both tonight and in general. After all, she seemed strangely comfortable around a guy with a giant sword, and she knew her way around a firearm. Even the cut in her leg hardly seemed to slow her down. She was different, no doubt about it.

Soon enough, he could see the park, just ahead and to his left. He kept up the blonde woman's pace, waiting on her to make the next moves.