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Dhara: This was always the worst part of her commute home. Sure she didn’t have to go back to Corvidae every night, she had access to a dozen other places. But on nights like this, when she felt the memories creeping in, she headed back to Corvidae. Either to the apartment she used to share with Ali, and rarer, to the apartment she had once shared with Calen. She realized that neither apartment was probably a good idea tonight, so instead she decided she’d pop in, collect a few things and leave again.

She held her floor length skirt in one hand, keeping it out of the muck as she picked her way through the sewer. Her nose wrinkled only slightly as she walked, perhaps she was getting used to the stench, and that was a depressing thought. Pale fingers trailed lightly along the wall, barely touching the cold bricks to guide her. She had long ago stopped using a flashlight after she was accosted by a naked, tattooed woman spouting insanity about joining the Paladins. And while Dhara had heard of The Order, she wasn’t inclined to trust someone who ran around in nothing but tattoo ink demanding an outrageous sum of money to become one of them.

She gave a soft sigh and kept walking, trying to keep her mind from wandering through the field of memories that it seemed determined to play in. She wasn’t sure why she was being taken down memory lane, but she was steadfastly refusing to be sucked into the past. A soft scuffing sound made her head come up, amber eyes searching the darkness. She thought she saw a shadow among the shadows, almost a definitive shape of… someone. Giving the slightest shake of her head, she figured it was one of the many people who seemed to travel the tunnels. Those people usually left her alone, and so she did as she always did, ducked her head and kept walking.

Grant: There were many things that annoyed Grant Stonehouse about his new existence in the sewers, numerous frustrating aspects of life as a subterranean explorer. The stench was an obvious one. The foul odours would often grate at the back of his nose and throat, almost causing him to choke. He hated the damp, dreariness of the underground tunnels, with their cold, slimy walls and stale air. This was particularly heightened by the fact that sunlight had now, seemingly, become a thing of the past. Darkness was this season's must wear outfit. Being a sewer dweller was terrible on the feet. Murky water lapping around a person's shoes all day could start to really irritate them. It was like being in the trenches during WWI or at least that's what Stonehouse had convinced himself as he constantly complained under his breath. However, in the short period of time that he'd been trawling through the sewer network, Stonehouse had begun to adapt to his alternative surroundings and learn to live with his new, albeit enforced, lifestyle change. Even so, there was still one thing that infuriated him more than anything else: getting lost!

Generally speaking, Stonehouse had a good sense of direction, perhaps from years of driving around the streets of strange cities with his job. He was sure it was simply genetic, stemming back generations to his hunter gatherer cavemen ancestors. Men can inherently read maps for a reason! These dreary underground tunnels, on the other hand, were proving tough to get to grips with. Harper Rock was hardly a huge city - no sprawling metropolis like London or Paris with elaborate sewerage systems - yet there were enough twists and turns in the underground network to cause plenty of problems. Stonehouse loved a gadget, and he knew that a satellite navigation system would prove invaluable down here. There were definitely things lurking, hidden in the shadows that even the most hardened adventurer would want to avoid. He was beginning to get more familiarized with the passageways, yet he would still find himself wandering down a dead end, or going around in circles. Today was one of those days.

Poking his inquisitive head out of a metal sewer cover, Stonehouse scanned the horizon for familiar landmarks. His eyes took in several jaded buildings, but these seemed different to the old warehouses and factories that he had already frequented. Rather than simply looking a little neglected, they appeared to be totally abandoned, almost derelict. Peering over his shoulder behind him, he noticed what appeared to be a fence, but this was no garden fence dividing up two house plots. It was high, very high, and would possibly take ladders to climb it. Was that barbed wire across the top of it? He couldn't quite make it out in the dark evening light. Whoever had erected the fence either wanted to keep someone out, or to keep someone in. Perhaps it was an old prison campus, or maybe a military training base? Wherever he'd mistakenly ended up, Stonehouse was uneasy about being there.

His unease was heightened as he heard someone approaching through the tunnel. This was not the sturdy plod of a soldier's boots heading back to base camp but someone more dainty, almost skipping along the pathway. Ducking back down into the bricked cylindrical tunnel, Stonehouse saw the fairly diminutive figure of a woman approaching. Her head was bowed, as if to avoid any eye contact, and Stonehouse struggled to make out her features. His initial gut feeling was that she posed no threat, and wasn't here to harm him, and was instead probably more intimidated by encountering a strange man in the dank underground. There was only one thing for it, he thought as he straightened his clothing and ran a hand through his black hair.
"Hello there!" he called out in a welcoming and unthreatening voice. "I think I took a wrong turn. What is this place?"

As he waited for a response, Stonehouse wondered if arriving in Harper Rock had been one huge wrong turn.

Dhara: She looked up at the voice, brushing her long white hair from her eyes. The figure was tall, broad shouldered with a tapered waist. His voice was distinctly masculine, and most certainly British. She gave a small smile and moved a little closer, trying to see in the dim light. He didn’t appear to be armed, or threatening. He was taller than her, but that wasn’t difficult to accomplish. The question was, was he truly lost? Because if he was then there was no harm in giving him directions. And if he got scary and he was lost, well she could easily evade him. If he wasn’t lost and he got scary, well she had no one to blame but herself for answering him.

“Guten Abend.” She replied, her own accent distinctly German with a hint of something else. “Well if you did not mean to be in these tunnels, then you certainly took a wrong turn.” She stepped carefully, keeping her skirt from the muck as she got closer. “If you mean where are you in relation to the world above?” She pointed, then looked around, stepping closer to the wall, she saw the tiniest of marks, written by her ages ago to help her avoid getting lost. After verifying her mark, she looked up at him with a small smile. “You are right below the quarantine zone. Home to creepy crawlies, strange people and Corvidae Flats apartments.”

She moved away from the wall, still watching him cautiously. Most people didn’t come down here unless they had a good reason. And getting lost and ending up here seemed a bit odd. Perhaps the tunnels had confused him and that’s what he meant when he said he was lost. Never the less, she gave him the benefit of the doubt, as she always did. Some day that trait was going to be the death of her.

Grant: German, in fact foreign languages in general, had never been Stonehouse’s strong point. A couple of trips to Munich for the Oktoberfest had given him the skills to order a beer and half a roast chicken, and numerous business meetings, often in sterile hotels near Frankfurt airport, had equipped him with a few extremely basic words. However, he was in no mood to attempt a reply to the petite woman in German. That wasn’t because he was being rude, or was nervous about making a fool of himself by getting the words wrong, it was because the words “quarantine zone” had immediately grabbed his attention like a lasso around his neck. Just what on earth was going on in there? He needed to know more, and he needed to know now! Trying to conjure up German words to be polite was certainly not the quickest way to do that.

“The quarantine zone?” he responded with a raised, inquisitive eyebrow. “So what goes on in there? What happened in there to have the whole area blocked off?”

His mind was already racing, trying to anticipate the stranger’s reply. He had instinctively known that something strange was going on in the barren area surrounded with barbed wire, and the fact that he now knew that it had been quarantined confirmed his suspicions. But what exactly? Perhaps military testing? Maybe chemicals or toxins? Yes! That must be it. Some kind of virus or chemical spill. It would explain those bloody zombie things that he’d encountered. They were infected, yes, that was what was happening! It was all becoming clear, even before the woman had even replied to him. Maybe that also explained his strange behaviour, his memory loss, the fact that he craved blood?

A broad grin stretched across Stonehouse’s face, as if he’d just discovered the meaning of life. He could hardly wait for the woman to confirm his theory.

Dhara: “It’s hard to say really. I have done some research but I think the articles are media spin and propaganda. What seems to be the common theme is a viral outbreak that killed almost everyone and caused the military to blockade the whole area.” She shrugged and smiled at him. “However, that has not stopped developers from adding an apartment block. A pretty nice one. Perhaps that is where you were trying to go? Corvidae Flats?” She offered the name helpfully a second time, wondering if it would spark some sort of recollection.

The smile that slid across his face had her taking a step back. Perhaps he was some sort of lunatic that had escaped from Winterbrook? She really should be more cautious but her compassionate nature often meant she acted before she thought. She studied him, then looked to the left. That was a dead end of a sorts. She knew there was a small door that lead to dwelling like spaces. Perhaps someone would help her if she needed to run.

Grant: It suddenly struck Stonehouse that he was standing with a grin like the Cheshire Cat sprawled across his face. No wonder the woman, with her slight features and timid mannerisms, was giving him a strange look and keeping her distance. His crazed grin softened to a warm and welcoming smile as he offered her his gratitude. "Thank you for the information. I'm pretty new in town so it's great to pick up some general pointers."

Almost as soon as he'd finished talking, he mulled over what he'd just said. So what if he was new in town, it didn't explain what he was doing wandering around in the sewers! Who in their right mind did that? Then again, why was a pretty young woman also trudging through the sewers? Clearly there was more than meets the eye about this stranger. Raising his arm and pointing a hand in the general direction of the mysterious quarantine zone above his head, Stonehouse continued his line of questioning. "So people actually live in apartments up there, out in no man's land?"

He was extremely curious to discover more about these "Coverdale Flats", or whatever she called them. An apartment in a restricted zone could be an ideal hideout, and probably a damn sight more comfortable than the damp sewer tunnels than he'd been dwelling in recently.

Dhara: As he looked less crazy, and his smile changed, she relaxed slightly and nodded. “Well, welcome to Harper Rock Mr….” She trailed off since he hadn’t introduced himself yet. “No… Corvidae Flats. And yes people live there. I do.” She chuckled and tucked her hair back. “I even have a flatmate. The apartments seem to be a hot commodity, I have a few friends with places.” She studied him for a minute, then sighed and gave the smallest shake of her head. “I can show you if you like. Perhaps help you gain your bearings? There’s a computer in the lobby, too. One that any one can use.” Another few seconds dragged out as her amber eyes combed over him, as if she could judge him safe or not from just a look. “And it is probably a mistake because you are a strange man wandering the sewer, but I could bring you a cup of coffee if you like. But you’d have to wait in the hall…”

Grant: The thought of a cup of coffee made Stonehouse feel warm and fuzzy inside. He'd love a cup, if not for the smell as much as the taste. However, there was one potentially huge problem, a major flaw in the plan. Except for the odd inadvertent splash of rainwater upon his tongue, the only liquid to have passed his lips lately had been blood... human blood. Perhaps he could accept a coffee, but "forget" to drink it and allow it to go cold? Whatever the plan may be, the opportunity to investigate the puzzling quarantine zone was one that Stonehouse could not refuse. He was basically a scientist at heart and these flats could be his research lab. He'd already encountered some weird and wonderful creatures. They would make excellent test subjects. In fact, what about the diminutive woman with whom he was now becoming acquainted? He'd love to understand the psychology of a woman who happily wandered alone through stinking sewers and had no problem visiting friends who lived in some kind of restricted zone.

Extending a hand of friendship towards the woman, Stonehouse introduced himself. "I'm sorry for being so rude. My name is Grant."

He smiled, hoping that the woman was at ease with him. "I'm sorry if I startled you at all, or made you feel nervous earlier."

Dhara: “Well you do seem a little bi-polar… Grant.” Her fragile hand slipped into his with a small nod. “Dhara. It is nice to meet you.” She looked him over and smiled faintly, then looked up towards the manhole cover, giving a slight wave of her hand towards the ladder. After all, she was in a skirt and it would be unlady like to go first with a man following behind her. “After you, please.” She said with a smile.

Grant: Stonehouse looked at her rather inquisitively, smiling to acknowledge her introduction, then turned towards the ladder that lead up into the sewer exit. So she thinks I seem a bit bipolar, he thought to himself as he grabbed a rung of the steel ladder. A combination of a psychology degree and years working for a medical company that dealt with neurological conditions had given the scientifically-minded businessman a great oversight into the minds of people. Stonehouse much preferred the old name for bipolar disorder, manic depression, as it seemed to describe the condition so graphically. As he ascended the cold, damp rungs of the sewer ladder and poked his head out into the night sky, he conceded that he certainly had been feeling depressed while slumped in the dark, underground tunnels, or uninviting backstreets. He also thought that some of his crazy actions of late could be described as manic, although maniacal may be a better phrase. After all, attacking someone and drinking their blood could hardly be classed as normal behaviour!

Stonehouse wondered if his new acquaintance sensed that he was in some way "strange". Perhaps the answers to his unexplainable episodes lay within the confines of the quarantine zone? Was he the victim of some kind of experiments that had been conducted in the fenced off area? As he climbed out of the opened manhole, Stonehouse spun around and offered a hand to Dhara to help her up.

Dhara: She followed him up, reaching for the offered hand when her small head popped free of the hole. She gripped his hand and pulled herself the rest of the way up with a murmur of thanks. Once her feet were on solid ground she released his hand and brushed her skirt off, then looked up at him with a smile before scanning the QZ. She saw a few shambling zombies, but nothing of terrible note or consequence. “We’re going just there…” She said as she pointed to a modern looking building just a couple blocks away. “It’s probably best to stay close, there are all kinds of… things… in here.”

She hesitated to say ‘monsters’ but really that’s what they were. The shambling zombies, the creatures even worse that she’d been told were called Mooncalf’s. Those were truly the things she feared the most. An amalgam of body parts and greying flesh. Too many eyes, too many arms. A lumpy, misshapen body that looked like dough. Just the thought made her shudder and rub her arms. She really wanted to get inside.

Without another word to her companion, she headed off towards her building, trusting him to follow. She wasn’t sure what she would do to protect him if anything went awry. She didn’t have a weapon, and she didn’t know how to fight. Her narrow shoulders were tense as she walked, looking around and constantly checking their surroundings to be safe. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until they were standing at the door to the building. She blew out her breath in a relieved sigh and looked up at him. “Here we are, home sweet home.”

Grant: Stonehouse's eyesight, his clarity of vision, had seemed to be steadily improving of late. He wasn't sure if it was due to spending more and more time down in the darkness of the underground tunnels, and his eyes somehow adjusting and compensating to the lack of light, but he was impressed by the increased focus. It did, however, mean that he was often seeing things that he didn't want to, things that should be kept hidden in a world of nightmares. The strange, sluggish creatures that he's just spied in the doorway of some kind abandoned cinema building were the exact things that he thought about while trudging, alone, through the sewers. He'd already encountered some ghastly zombie-like beasts, and feared that they may hunt him down while he rested. An apartment block may not only offer comfort to the tired and weary former executive, but it may also offer some kind of sanctuary until he could figure out a few more things about his new environment.

Stonehouse took a deep breath as he approached the entrance to the tower block with his new guide. He could already sense that there were several people inside. Numerous voices that would potentially bombard his ears. One on one, as he currently was with his newly acquainted companion, Stonehouse was perfectly fine, but as soon as there were more people, more visions, more scents and sounds and stimuli, then his mind began to clutter up like a blocked drain after a storm. He turned to the compact woman and smiled, wondering just how "sweet" this place was going to be. "After you" he said politely.

Dhara: She smiled and tugged the door open, pausing to survey the zombies, feral vampires and regular folks wandering around the lobby. Her nose crinkled faintly, but the smell was no where near as over powering. Looking back at Grant, she smiled warmly. “How about a coffee first? It’s quieter in the upstairs halls.” She stepped inside, moving quicker than she had been, making a beeline for the elevator.

She pushed the button, debating if she wanted the apartment on 2 or on 9. If she went to 9 she risked Forsyth or Ali being home. It was that decision that made her decide to go to floor 2. She wasn’t sure she wanted to explain why a strange man was waiting in the hallway for coffee. As she waited for the elevator, she watched the lobby, making sure nothing was shambling behind her. This part of the night always made her nervous. She was always worried that something would creep up behind her and grab her. Brushing off the thought, she smiled at Grant as the elevator opened. “You still have to wait in the hall.” She reminded him. “How do you take your coffee?”

Grant: Stonehouse barely heard Dhara's question. He was too preoccupied with scanning the lobby and making mental notes of the people who mulled around the bar chatting, or the folk visiting a small shop in the corner of the foyer. He observed someone typing furiously on a keyboard at a computer terminal as if they were trying to finish a report with its deadline looming. There seemed to be several... he couldn't put his finger on it... several "types" of people hanging around in the entrance hall. He couldn't quite discern the differences, but some seemed perfectly normal whereas others appeared just a little bit, well, strange. There was something about them that wasn't quite right. Were they like him? Were they infected by whatever had caused this area of the town to be quarantined? The general shuffling around of the residents was starting to confuse Stonehouse. He couldn't seem to cope with gatherings any more. The binging of the lift control panel signified the arrival of the car, and it brought Stonehouse back to reality. He turned towards his guide and replied to her question.

"My apologies," answered Stonehouse, "I got a little distracted. I'm not fond of crowds. I like my coffee strong with no sugar and a bit of milk, please."

The couple entered the elevator car and as Stonehouse watched his new acquaintance press the button for the second floor, he wondered if he would be able to risk drinking the coffee. Regular food and drink seemed to make him feel nauseous, so perhaps he would have to make up some plausible excuse as to why he couldn't drink it. Maybe he could let it go cold and hope that Dhara didn't have a microwave to reheat it? He'd have to decide quickly as the jarring of the car and the subsequent opening of the door announced their arrival at their destination.

Dhara: “So what you’re telling me is you ruin your coffee in the most horrible way possible.” She teased him as they stepped in to the blessedly empty hallway. She looked around and motioned to her door and some couches. “Feel free to have a seat or stand near the door.” She murmured as she dug her keys out and unlocked the door. Pushing the portal open she revealed a sparsely furnished apartment. A small, but tidy living room and an immaculately clean kitchen. On the counters sat a coffee pot, and two mugs. “Just um… just wait here.” She said as she darted inside, dropping her bag near the door.

She moved to the kitchen, and with practiced skill, started a pot of coffee going. She flipped over the mugs and set them near the pot. She looked around her apartment, then watched Grant for a moment. As the pot beeped she poured the mugs full, leaving just a little room in his. She moved over to the fridge and pulled it open, hastily snatching the milk out of the fridge and practically slamming the door shut when she caught sight of the blood bags. She only hoped her guest hadn’t noticed them. A splash of milk and she returned the carton to the fridge. She gathered the mugs and returned to the door, offering his to him while leaning on the door frame. “I hope that’s not to much milk."

Grant: Smiling politely at Dhara's comments about the coffee, Stonehouse sat down on one of the sofas in the landing area and reclined into the luxurious seating. This was certainly much more comfortable than leaning against a damp tunnel wall in the sewers. He closed his eyes and relaxed, wondering if his hostess knew how to make a proper pot of tea, never mind a cup of coffee. Chuckling to himself, Stonehouse stretched out his arms as if he were doing a giant yawn after sleeping for a year.

He waited patiently on the couch, picking at his fingernails to try and remove stubborn remnants of sewer slime. Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned forward on the sofa, peering through the open door of the flat. He couldn't really see much more than a few items of furniture and the odd fleeting glimpse of Dhara as she flittered around in the rooms. Stonehouse never expected to have the stranger invite him into the apartment, after all, they had only just met. However, he was slightly puzzled at the woman's definite reluctance to allow him into her home. Was she afraid of him? Surely a woman who wandered around alone in the maze of tunnels that was the sewage system wasn't scared of much? He remained rather perplexed as the woman returned to him with the freshly made coffee, but loitered around the door frame, almost as if she were defending the entrance like it were the gatehouse to a castle.

Stonehouse rose to his feet, almost lumbering up off the sofa like a sloth, reluctant to part from its comforting softness. He readily accepted the mug of hot coffee, inhaling the fragrance as he felt the warmth radiate through the palms of his hands.

"Thank you very much," said Stonehouse as he deliberately blew into the mug. "It seems a bit hot so I'll let it cool a little first. I wouldn't want to burn my tongue."

He knew that his cover story would at least postpone his need to drink the beverage for a few minutes. In the meantime, the inquisitive newcomer took the opportunity to pose a few questions.

"So tell me a bit more about this place," asked Stonehouse. "Have you lived here long? The residents in the lobby seemed... nice."

Dhara: His comment about the residents made her snort softly and she eased out of the doorway, pulling the door shut behind her. She moved over to the cluster of sofas and perched on one, holding her mug of pure black coffee. She took a small sip, silently agreeing that it was hot as Hades. She looked thoughtful as she debated his questions.

“Well I’ve been in Harper Rock for a year or so now. I moved in to Corvidae a few months in to coming here. I had a different apartment, a friend of mine let me stay there.” She took another sip of her coffee. “Then I moved down here to this one.” She chuckled softly and looked at him. “I suppose I like the building. The residents are rather… unique…” She hedged, looking away, she took another sip of her coffee. She was more than willing to answer his questions, she just knew she had to be careful about it.

Grant: The coffee drinking woman was proving to be a useful mine of information to Stonehouse, and he had every intention of digging further in the hope of uncovering some golden nuggets of knowledge. He wanted to discover more about this mysterious quarantine zone and in particular about the unusual residents who chose to live in the Corvidea Flats. Why on earth would anyone want to live in this dead zone? Were the resident trying to hide away from something or had they been forced behind the barbed wire fences? There were so many questions, and Stonehouse was determined to uncover the truth.

"So this quarantine zone", piped up Stonehouse as he watched Dhara take another sip of her drink, "is it safe? I must admit to having come across some really strange... erm... people while exploring."

Stonehouse rarely hesitated or struggled for words during a conversation, yet he had no idea what to call the bizarre creatures that he'd observed. Were they people, or perhaps the husks of people who had succumbed to some kind of illness? He still hesitated to use the word "zombie" to describe them, even though it seemed like the most appropriate noun. Stonehouse eagerly awaited his informant's answers. If nothing else, he was delighted to be inside a "living" building rather an abandoned warehouse or disused factory, and to have someone to converse with for a change.

Dhara: She watched him and sipped her coffee with a faint smile. “Zombies. People call them zombies.” She confirmed the word he didn’t want to say, long musician's fingers tapped against the mug as she gave his question some serious thought. “I think safe is a relative term. Some people would say no. Others would say yes. I guess it really depends on your skill in fighting, if you have any, or weapons if you like those.” She tried not to shudder at the idea of violence. It was something she was quickly adjusting to living in this city. It was also something that made her think about leaving on a daily basis.

She gave a sigh and watched him, holding the warm ceramic close. She loved how it felt against her hands, even if the nights were warming up. She took another sip of the dark brew and studied her companion. For wandering about the sewers he looked rather tidy in his dark suit and combed hair. She had to honestly wonder how long he’d really been wandering around in the dark and the dank. She didn’t think it could be long, giving how relatively clean he was. It certainly gave his story more credibility that he’d taken a wrong turn and gotten lost. “Where have you been exploring that you’ve run across strange things? Down in the sewers?” She asked curiously. Her own run ins with the denizens of the sewer weren’t exactly pleasant.

Grant: The word "zombie" echoed around Stonehouse's mind as if Dhara had screamed it inside a cavernous auditorium. He knew there was something sinister going on, and now it had been confirmed. His mild interrogation of his new best friend was reaping ample rewards.
Despite his suspicions, he was still shocked to hear that zombies genuinely existed, but now there were further questions. Were the zombies living people infected with a disease, or were they the dead somehow reanimated? Was the quarantine zone implemented because of them? There was question after question after question running around Stonehouse's confused brain. He had strived to uncover the truth, but was he actually ready to hear it?

Stonehouse brought the coffee mug to his lips and pretended to sip it, bringing it quickly away from his mouth and making a display to show that it was still too hot to drink. Another stalling tactic.

"Ouch," chuckled Stonehouse, "that's still too steamy for my delicate mouth. You must have asbestos lips to be able to drink yours."

He smiled at the woman as she sat neatly on the corner of a sofa. "I encountered a strange creature, one of those zombies, near an old morgue. At first I thought it was a drunk old man, some kind of vagrant."

Stonehouse shook his head, mentally recollecting his fight. That thing would have killed him had he not somehow managed to defeat it. The memory still haunted him.

"I try to stay down in the sewers when I travel across town," continued Stonehouse, "because I think it'll stop me bumping into those beasts again."

Stonehouse looked squarely into Dhara's kind eyes. "But there are other things out there, things more deadly, aren't there?"

He wanted to mention that he had witnessed a brutal attack by some kind of bloodsucking nightmare, but then again, he was turning into the very same thing. Was he one of these deadly night crawlers? Stonehouse bit his tongue to stop himself from saying too much.

Dhara: “Well of course their are.” She said blandly, sipping her coffee. It didn’t seem to hot to her and the fact that he wasn’t trying it gave her pause, her mind wandering. She instantly shrugged off her suspicions. He was British. Perhaps he didn’t like coffee, only tea. “After all, this is Canada.” She finally continued with a smile. “Wild animals come in to the city all the time. Wolves, bears, things like that.”

She didn’t want to talk about the more insane things. It was bad enough there were zombies shambling around 2 floors below them, and she was certain there was a feral vampire or two in the mix. Did he really need to know about the other vampires? The ones that had all their faculties and wits about them? The ones that blended in with regular people? And what about the hunters? The Paladins? The Sorcerers? Did she really want to get into all that with him? After all, he was just a normal guy who seemed to be having a bad run of luck. Why should she go telling him stories that could scare him?

Grant: It was perfectly plausible that wolves or bears, perhaps even a rogue mountain lion, could stray inside the city limits. There was an increasing problem back home in the UK with urban foxes wandering into the suburbs to rummage through the dustbins in search of a chicken carcass or left-over roast beef from an over facing Sunday lunch. Maybe bears were searching the trash cans for tasty treats? A bear rearing up on its hind legs could look like some kind of beast, a yeti or even Bigfoot. But that didn't explain these so called zombies. Stonehouse was convinced that the woman was hiding something. The quarantine zone wasn't the only thing with barriers erected around it. Then again, Stonehouse wasn't exactly telling the whole truth either. His initial judgement on Dhara was that she was a good person, well intentioned. He had a positive gut feeling towards her, but was that enough reason to completely open up to her? Stonehouse knew that he had to remain cautious and not give too much away just yet. Conversely, he was more than happy to keep probing his new acquaintance to gather more information. She may not be turn out to be the font of all knowledge, but she was certainly a tap that was leaking water, and he had an unquenchable thirst for answers.

Stonehouse was acutely aware that he hadn't yet taken a mouthful from the coffee mug, and neither wanted to raise any suspicions nor appear rude or ungrateful. Raising the mug to his lips, he poured a slug of warm liquid into his mouth, ensuring that Dhara was watching. The taste on his tongue was odd. It just didn't quite taste like coffee. He allowed the beverage to slip back into the mug before faking a swallowing motion.

"Great coffee," said Stonehouse as he raised the mug, as if he were about to make a toast at a wedding reception. "So do you get on with your neighbours?"

Stonehouse pointed at the adjacent doors on the landing, hopping to distract his hostess and give him an opportunity to pour some of his coffee into the plant pot that sat innocently next to his sofa.

Dhara: She glanced to the doors spread around the mini lobby they sat in, then looked over her shoulder before looking back at him with a shrug. “I’m glad you like it. I don’t know my neighbours, actually.” She said with a laugh. “I have a friend who lives in the building, but all in all people here don’t seem to be very social.” She took another sip of her coffee, wondering if the subject had permanently changed from the creepy supernatural to more mundane things. Safer things. She pushed a lock of white hair out of her eyes, mulling over the idea of dying it another color. She let the thought go as it was in no way pertinent to the conversation.

“Tell me, Grant, what brings you to Haper Rock, Canada, of all places?” She wondered if perhaps his story would give away more clues as to how he ended up, seemingly lost, in the sewers. Maybe he would let something slip, give something away about who he truly was and why he was here. She was an anomaly, not many people who came here on business or holiday stayed here any longer than they had to. And yet here she sat, just about a year after she had come here on a bus, and she hadn’t left. Perhaps Grant was going to be the same way.

Grant: A guilty hand jabbed forward and poured a slug of coffee into the plant pot that sat on the floor adjacent to Stonehouse's comfortable sofa. It retracted with the same rapid speed and came to rest on the lap of the slightly devious guest. Stonehouse was sure that Dhara hadn't noticed his sneaky move, and that his tipping tactics would get him out of an awkward situation.

He had listened to her response about her neighbours and wondered why the seemingly friendly and sociable woman would want to live in a building full of virtual strangers. It made no sense, but then again living in an apartment block within the confines of a quarantine zone made no sense either. Was she somehow trapped here, unable to leave? Maybe that is why she wanted to know what had brought him here? Was he also now trapped here? Question after question unfolded in Stonehouse's mind like tiny rose heads coming into bloom. It was clear that each rose was littered with potentially thorny answers.

Stonehouse smiled at Dhara as he faked another sip from his now rather emptier coffee cup. He wasn't exactly sure how to answer her question as he wasn't entirely certain how he had actually ended up in Harper Rock. He was already lying about, or at least faking, the coffee situation, and now it appeared that he may have to lie about his travelling circumstances. The woman was being helpful, being welcoming, yet he was repaying her with lies and tricks.

"I was over in Canada on business," replied Stonehouse. "I was originally doing a few deals in Toronto. I had a few spare days of annual leave left to take, so I decided to extend my stay over here and sort of drifted over to Harper Rock. I'd never been here before. Why not take a look, right?"
As Stonehouse finished his response, he took some consolation in knowing that his words held at least some truth.

Dhara: She chuckled softly and nodded, swallowing down the last of her coffee. “It seems that’s how a lot of people end up here. I came just because that’s what I do. I wander. I’ve been all over the world, mostly. But some how I’ve just ended up staying here.”

Her fingers moved to the small charm at her throat, toying idly with it. It had become habit since Calen placed it around her neck on Valentine’s day. She hadn’t taken it off since, and now that he was gone, she was even more protective of the small violin. She wasn’t sure what to say next, what questions to ask, or even which ones to answer. She hadn’t lied to him, not outright, but omission was still a lie. Wasn’t it? She canted her head slightly and decided to stay with a safe topic. “What is it you do for work, if you don’t mind me asking?” She could guess, but she’d probably be wrong. Maybe he was a banker or a financier of some sort? He was articulate, intelligent and well spoken, so it was a safe guess to say he dealt with the public in some way.

Grant: What did he do for work? That was a great question. Effectively Stonehouse was now nothing more than a petty thief, robbing warehouses, trespassing on private property. Could he class himself as a trader, unloading his stolen good to a few suspicious looking buyers in darkened alleyways? Maybe that made him an entrepreneur, it certainly sounded more appealing than being labelled a burglar? Stonehouse decided to revert back to his old job and use it to continue his cover story.

"I'm a businessman," replied Stonehouse, "I set up deals for a company back in the UK. I guess I'm just a glorified salesman."

Yet again, Stonehouse took comfort from the fact that he wasn't completely lying to Dhara. He really was a salesman, it was simply the items that he was trading that had changed.

He smiled at his hostess, but then adopted a more serious facial expression. It was time to dig deeper and get to the nitty-gritty. Leaning forward on the sofa, Stonehouse asked a direct question. "Dhara, do you mind if I ask you a more personal question?" He didn't wait for a response, choosing instead to drive forward with his questioning. "You don't think that this whole city is just a little bit... well... strange? Do you really like it here, I mean really like it?"

Dhara: She listened and realized she wasn’t far off the mark of what he did for work. Not a banker, but a salesman. Dealing with the public. He certainly had the charm and the smile for it, and his explanation made perfect sense. When he leaned forward and asked if he could ask a personal question she got a little nervous, clutching her necklace tightly. But the question he asked wasn’t exactly that personal.

“This city is very strange. It’s probably one of the most unique places I’ve ever been. And I’ve been to a lot of places. To be honest, I don’t know what’s kept me here for so long. Usually I land in a place for a week or two and then move on.” She let go of the charm and let out a slow breath of air as she smiled at him. “But some how I’ve stayed here, for like a year now. It’s kind of mind boggling really.”

Grant: Stonehouse watched the young woman with an eagle-eye, noting that she fiddled with some kind of locket or pendant around her neck. Often that indicated that the wearer was nervous, subconsciously trying to block their vocal chords in case something popped out that shouldn't do. Was she still hiding something, or scared of telling the truth? It could, of course, just be a necklace that meant a lot to her and her fumbling held no sinister undertone, but Stonehouse was increasingly suspicious of this strange city.

Something, or maybe someone, was keeping the woman here in Harper Rock. The city was drawing her in and holding her here like a powerful magnet. Stonehouse was frustrated because he simply couldn't unlock the padlock to the mysterious Dhara. He was about to try and pick the lock with further questions when the rumbling of the elevator shaft interrupted his train of thought. The control panel lit up as the car passed by the second floor and continued its ascent.

"I hope they're your neighbours in the car," exclaimed Stonehouse with a cheeky smile on his face, "and not some of those zombie creatures."

Although his statement was meant in jest, Stonehouse did have a nagging worry at the back of his mind. How safe was this place?

Bringing the cooling coffee mug to his lips, Stonehouse peered at Dhara over the rim as he faked another gulp of liquid. "Where do the zombies come from?"

Dhara: She couldn’t help herself, his joke startled a laugh out of her and she looked towards the elevator with a smile and a small shake of her head. “I’ve never seen them anywhere but the lobby. To be honest I am not even certain how they get inside, but they certainly don’t use the elevator.” She brought her mug to her lips, only to realize it was empty. Setting it to the side, she considered his question carefully. And for once, the answer she gave wasn’t filled with half truths.

“I have no idea. I did a bit of research but I think a lot of it was glossed over government propaganda you know? It did not say much, only that the area had been quarantined off and residents were discouraged from coming in here. That’s why the fence and the soldiers. But, as you can see, new developments are springing up and people come and go as they please.”

Grant: No matter how many times Stonehouse tried to jumble up the words that he was hearing from Dhara's mouth and rearrange them into something that made sense, he failed. This was a quarantine zone, fenced off from the rest of the city, yet slap bang in the middle of the no-go area was a perfectly normal set of stylish apartments. Well, perfectly normal except for the sluggish zombie creatures that wandered through the lobby. Why were the police or the military not swarming all over the place to purge the zone of these zombies? Why weren't the residents reporting the beasts to the authorities? The more Stonehouse tried to fathom out the situation, the deeper he sunk into the quagmire of confusion.

Perched on the arm of a sofa only a few feet away from Stonehouse was a lovely young woman who clearly knew more than she was willing to say. Despite his intense curiosity, Stonehouse was well aware that he couldn't simply force Dhara to open up completely and spill the beans, yet he knew that she held the key. He needed to twist and turn her, to manipulate her just enough to let something slip out. She had to feel comfortable around him, to trust him, to feel at ease.

Stonehouse decided to respond to Dhara's comments, but add a little flattery to the conversation in an attempt to prize her open just a little more. "Are there any plans for further developments here?" enquired Stonehouse. "Maybe some restaurants or clothes shops? I love your dress. Did you buy it locally?"

Dhara: She blinked at him for a moment as she processed his words. She wasn’t used to compliments of any type, let alone about her baggy, loose clothing that was in style back in the 1960’s. She looked down and brushed invisible lint off her long black skirt, then fiddled with the belle sleeves of her shirt before glancing at him again. “Thank you?” She tried to make it a statement but even she could hear how her voice lifted at the end, turning it into a question. She shifted a bit, feeling uncomfortable as she mulled over his question.

“I don’t know really. I initially was staying here in a friend’s apartment, which is how I found out about this building. I know during the elections there were some promises made about demolishing this area and rebuilding. I suppose it could happen, but I haven’t seen it so far.”

She tugged on a lock of wavy white hair, she was trying not to fidget but she couldn’t help herself. Compliments made her uncomfortable and now she felt as if she were on the spot, like there was something he wanted from her but wasn’t going to come right out and say it.

Grant: Stonehouse chuckled at Dhara's words. Surely a politician wouldn't make a promise then fail to deliver; that never happens, does it?
"Those damn politicians!" joked Stonehouse. "Always promising diamonds and delivering dust."

He brought the coffee mug to his lips, faking yet another gulp. The liquid was cool, and a fine ring of coffee scum was beginning to form halfway down the inside of the cup. He'd needed to ditch the rest of the drink and maintain his masquerade. Keeping up the small talk was also a priority. Despite the fact that Dhara had given some useful nuggets of information, there were still many burning questions that Stonehouse wanted to ask. Although he was starting to build up a rapport with the fair haired woman, he knew that he couldn't overstep the mark. He didn't want to push his luck and give the pleasant lady the impression that he was looking for more than just coffee.

A plan floated into Stonehouse's head like a child's balloon bobbing about in the breeze. "Are there many apartments currently up for rent?" enquired Stonehouse. "This may be an interesting place to bunk down for a while until I find my feet."

Stonehouse wasn't necessarily bothered about renting a flat, but finding out if there were any vacant apartments - apartments that he could break into and squat for a few nights - would be very handy. On top of that, Stonehouse was looking for a reaction from Dhara. Would she try to warn him off because she knew more than she was letting on, or would she encourage him to move in? Either way, Stonehouse hoped to elicit an informative response.

Dhara: She chuckled softly at his joke and tucked her hair behind her ear. “True enough, and I am not sure if the one who made the promises is the same who got elected.” She watched him with his mug, then gazed sadly at her own. It was empty and she knew there was more coffee behind the door to her place. Luckily Grant gave her the perfect excuse to go back into her apartment. “I think there might be? Let me just pop inside and find a flier…” She rose with a smile and headed for her door. She didn’t offer to get him a refill as it was clear he was still working on his own.

She left the door open once more, not wanting to appear rude, and luckily she was still barefoot so she didn’t have to stop and remove her shoes. A quick trip to the kitchen and her mug was brimming once more with the steaming ambrosia called coffee. And less than a minute after that, she was back, offering him a simple flier showing the vacancies of the building. “It looks like there are units available on several floors. For some reason all the lower floors - like one, two, three and so on - sell first. I’m not sure why.”

Grant: Never look a gift horse in the mouth, or so the saying goes. Right now Stonehouse had been handed a thoroughbred champion and was going to ride it to the winning post. As soon as his host disappeared into her flat and vanished out of sight, Stonehouse emptied the remains of his cold drink into the plant pot. The drink was mostly water, so hopefully the vibrant green plant wouldn't mind an extra watering. Stonehouse stopped feeling guilty about ditching his generous gift from the stranger and focussed more on why he couldn't drink anything normal without feeling sick. He was sure that Dhara would probably know the answer, and half of him wondered if he should just come clean and ask her. However, what if she didn't know? What if she thought that he was some kind of freak? Then again, he couldn't be any more bizarre than the zombie creatures that roamed the wastelands of the quarantine zone.

It was an ongoing dilemma, but one that would have to be put on hold as Dhara returned from her apartment brandishing a fresh mug of steaming coffee. She hadn't quite been gone long enough for him to have a good nosey through her open apartment door, which was a minor shame. Stonehouse was convinced that she was being a little too defensive about guarding her castle. Did more answers lie inside?

Accepting the leaflet with a smile, Stonehouse glanced over the numbers of the vacant apartments, mentally noting empty flats that were adjacent to other empty flats. No neighbours would be a bonus if he were to illegally occupy a house. "Thanks for this," said Stonehouse. "I'll check out the flats."

He wondered why the higher level flats seemed to be the vacant ones. Surely not everyone was afraid of heights? Back home, top floor apartments always seemed to sell faster than their lower floor counterparts due to better views. Huge windows offering panoramic outlooks of the city would be snapped up straight away. Stonehouse pondered upon the possibility that he wasn't alone in trying to avoid sunlight, and that a ground floor flat, near to his beloved sewers, would actually be beneficial. The puzzle was becoming more complex, or was it slowly beginning to make sense?

Dhara: “You know this isn’t the only strange place to live.” She tossed out, cradling her mug like a lover, both tiny hands wrapped around the plain white porcelain. She pulled the mug close and sipped the hot brew, a blissful smile crossing her lips. There was simply nothing better than coffee.

“There’s actually apartments in the sewers. Strange I know. But I’ve been in one or two and you can’t even tell where you are. No windows, so that’s depressing. But no smell or grossness either. I don’t think any of those are available, but if you’re interested in strange and unusual living spaces, those win hands down.”

Grant: Immediately Stonehouse's ears pricked up like those of a guard dog when an intruder tries to break through a security gate. Apartments in the sewers sounded like a great idea. Perhaps there were whole underground communities hidden from sight, living in a parallel world? He'd seen other shadowy figures seemingly vanish into thin air while lurking in the darkness of the sewer network, and now it was beginning to make sense. Others, perhaps with aversions to sunlight like he had, owned secretive subterranean lairs. A place to stash away the loot that Stonehouse had plundered from his burglary missions would be invaluable. Nooks and crannies within the sewer tunnel walls were hardly secure. Although the idea of a modern furnished apartment, such as the one Dhara disappeared into to make coffee, appealed to Stonehouse, he did wonder if one below the city was a better option. He could remain alone, away from the crowds, embracing the blackness that seemed to be his new friend. Then again, the thought of a flat with hot running water to indulge in a shower, was highly enticing.

There were more and more twists and turns to this strange story. People did not choose to live in an apartment block surrounded by zombies, and likewise people - sane people at least - would not chose to reside in the sewers. Stonehouse had come to believe that he had somehow started to go a little bit crazy, that he was infected, cursed, damned. Call it what you will, his life had been flipped upside down, but hearing Dhara's words, Stonehouse became increasingly convinced that he was not alone. There were others, maybe dozens, maybe even hundreds, who were living an alternative life to the one they had once lived.

It was time to turn up the heat on Dhara and push her just that little bit more. Stonehouse hoped that he wasn't about to ruin everything, but he simply had to know more. "Wow!" exclaimed Stonehouse, "Who would want to live in the sewers?"

It was more of a statement than a question. The real question was about to arrive as Stonehouse threw the cat into the gathered pigeons."Dhara, don't you think that it's kind of strange that people would live in an apartment block infested with zombies, or in gloomy house in the sewers?"

Stonehouse paused, looking squarely into the eyes of his coffee-drinking companion. "There's something not right about this place, isn't there?"

Dhara: She sipped her coffee as he processed what she’d said, and his comment drew a chuckle from her. She started to give a shrug when he went on, his eyes boring into hers. “Well it takes all kinds, I suppose.” She hedged, but his next statement nearly made her drop her coffee cup. Her hands tightened and she met his gaze, even though she desperately wanted to look away. She was a terrible liar and she worried that at any moment, he’d call her out.

Stalling for time, she cleared her throat, and then took another sip of her coffee. She managed to pull her gaze from his, brushing her hands over her skirt, then sipping her coffee again. “Well, I suppose there is, maybe? But then again, everywhere you go in the world you can find something that makes it seem not right. One place isn’t more strange than another I think.” She pushed her hair back and smiled, though it was thin and forced.

Grant: By not saying much, Dhara had effectively said everything. It wasn't necessarily what she did or didn't say that gave the game away, but her mannerisms, her body language. It was the way that she tried to avoid eye contact while speaking. It may have been a deliberate ploy, or it may have simply been a subconscious reaction. Either way, she didn't seem to want her eyes to lock with his. It was as if he may be able to gaze at something that he shouldn't. Stonehouse also noticed how she gripped her cup just that little bit tighter. It was a defensive move, holding her cup more firmly, not wanting it to slip, just as he suspected that she didn't want to let any information slip out of her mouth. The way she coughed, nervously, as if she were trying to clear any negative words from her throat so that she could accidentally let them escape, was another nugget of information. The signs were all there, Stonehouse could spot them a mile off. He knew that she was hiding something, and he also suspected that she knew that he had his suspicions. It was time to ease back, as the last thing Stonehouse wanted to do was scare her away. This wasn't the Spanish Inquisition, it was supposed to be a pleasant chat over a cup of coffee.

Stonehouse released a deep sigh. "You are so right," he said, nodding his head, "the world is full of crazy places. Strange things lurk in the most unusual of places."

He knew that Dhara could be a useful friend, his "grapevine", his "word on the street". She clearly had contacts and knew her way around town, and the fact that Stonehouse had initially bumped into her in the somewhat dangerous sewers lead him to believe that she had more to her than meets the eye.

Dhara: She watched him closely, emptying the last of the coffee in her mug and searching for something to say. She had a hunch that she hadn’t fooled him in the least. He was fishing for the truth. She could tell him, he seemed nice enough. He knew there was strange things going on. But vampires? Would he truly believe that? It seemed he had a hard time grasping the zombies, what would he think if there were vampires wandering around?

“Let me just put these away…” She said regarding the now empty mugs they both held. Rising to her feet, she collected his mug and moved towards her door. As she had the times previous, she left the wooden portal open, not wanting to be rude as she breezed through the door to the kitchen. This would give her some time to think, ponder over what she wanted to tell him, if she told him anything. She glanced over her shoulder and gave a small smile before turning back to the sink.

Grant: Had Stonehouse's coffee making host simply collected the mugs and disappeared because she was very diligent and wanted to tidy things up, perhaps offer another cup, or was she retreating into her castle to avoid further questions? It was clear that she had more information to impart to the inquisitive visitor, but equally as evident that she was cautious about spilling all the juicy gossip at once.

Stonehouse watched with interest as Dhara vanished into her apartment, once again leaving the door wide open. This seems to sum up their entire conversation, as the door always seemed to be left ajar for further questions, but there was never quite the full invitation to receive all the details. As Stonehouse waited to catch a glimpse of Dhara while she ferreted around her flat, he couldn't decide if the open door was just a gesture of politeness, ensuring that he didn't felt cut off, or if it were actually some kind of invitation to explore.

Fortune favours the brave, or so the saying goes, and right now the treasure on offer was information. Standing up tall and straight, Stonehouse made the decision to wander across the hallway and poke his nose into the apartment. If Dhara found his intrusion to be somewhere rude, he'd play dumb and tell her that he was popping in to offer help washing the cups or making a fresh pot of coffee. She seemed like a thoroughly nice person, gentle and caring, not the kind of woman to shout at you for offering your assistance. Reaching the door, Stonehouse stretched out a hand, resting it on the framework. He announced his intentions so that Dhara wouldn't be startled when he appeared inside the house. "Hey, Dhara, I'll come and lend you a hand."

Shuffling forward, ready to venture into the secretive apartment room, Stonehouse stopped suddenly. He couldn't explain why he was loitering at the entrance, poised to cross the threshold. Something was preventing him from progressing, from taking the next step.

Dhara: “That would be lovely, thank you.” She called out in response. She didn’t invite him in, because she didn’t think she had to. As she washed the mugs and set them to dry, she grabbed a hand towel and turned to find Grant. Perhaps he had gotten distracted by a book on her coffee table. A slight shrug and she turned to dry the mugs, refilling hers once it was dry. She didn’t offer her guest a second cup as he hadn’t really seemed to enjoy the first. Taking up her mug, she drifted into the living room, coming to a halt to see Grant lingering in the doorway. Was he lingering or could he not get in?

She glanced down at her mug, feeling almost mournful for what she was about to do. But she simply had to know if her sudden suspicion was correct. Grant was the chivalrous type, so it seemed, surely he’d want to help her if something happened. “Grant?” She called his name, stepping forward, she pretended to trip over the floor. The white mug slipped from her hands and exploded on the hardwood, splashing hot coffee against her bare toes, and sending shards of porcelain skittering around the room. She jumped back with a yelp of surprise that was genuine. She hadn’t intended to get coffee on herself. She muttered to herself in German, looking truly distressed over the mess, and yet part of her watched Grant to see what, if anything he would do.

Grant: The crashing sound of the mug splintering into a hundred shards was rapidly replaced by a screech of pain from Dhara's mouth as the freshly poured coffee scalded her toes. Instantly, without thinking, Stonehouse tried to rush to the aid of the distressed young woman. Yet again, he simply couldn't move forward, as if some kind of magical barrier were preventing him from moving into the hallway of the apartment. Stonehouse felt like a fly trapped in an invisible spider's web as he struggled frustratingly to enter the apartment.

He stood at the doorway, scratching his head in utter disbelief at his unexplainable predicament. Had his legs suddenly turned to jelly, preventing him from walking? Such was his confusion that he became distracted from the matter at hand: aiding Dhara after her accident. It was only when he noticed the slightly distressed hostess gazing back at him that he refocused towards the task at hand. But there was something else. It was the way that Dhara was looking at him. She had a pained, almost sorrowful expression across her face that didn't seem to be totally linked to the spilt drink.

Stonehouse stared back at her. "Are you ok?" he enquired. "Do you need help?"

He hoped that she hadn't seen him floundering in the doorway like a jellyfish in a whirlpool, and that his words at least indicated that he was concerned about her wellbeing.

Dhara: It took her a minute to find her words, after all her suspicions were confirmed. He was a vampire. Any human would have been able to waltz right in and help her. She sighed gently and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m fine, yes. Won’t you please come in?” She gave him the formal invitation, knowing he would now be able to enter her home. She had a sneaking suspicion that Grant didn’t know he was a vampire. Sure most of them kept it a super secret, but Grant seemed to be surprised by everything supernatural. And now, it seemed, she would be the one to surprise him yet again.

Grant: Stonehouse stumbled forwards, almost tripping over his own feet. One second he was wading through invisible treacle trying to enter the apartment, and now the hallway almost dragged him inwards like a black hole. He had no idea what had just happened, but having no idea was becoming a regular occurrence. It was puzzle after puzzle after puzzle, and a convincing solution or explanation never seemed to materialize.

The doorway incident was something that Stonehouse would have to mull over at a later time. Right now he needed to attend to Dhara's foot injury. He walked over to her, not bothering to check out the apartment, which would have been his prime objective a couple of minutes ago. As he reached Dhara, he offered her a sympathetic smile. "Are you burnt?" he asked as he looked down at her slightly reddened toes. "Maybe I can sweep up the broken mug for you?"

Although Stonehouse was still keen to extract more information from Dhara, he also felt an obligation to lend a hand and help her to clean the mess. She had been a mine of knowledge and he owed her something in return.

As Stonehouse waited for a response, he could tell that there was definitely something else wrong with Dhara, and the spilt drink appeared to be the least of her worries. Maybe his fears were about to be confirmed and she had seen him flapping around at the entrance and thought he was some kind of nutcase?

Dhara: “That would be lovely, thank you. My toes are fine, just a little scalded.” She smiled at him and fetched him the broom and dustpan. Using a kitchen towel, she mopped up the coffee and retreated to the kitchen. Glancing over her shoulder, she pulled a fresh mug off the counter and a packet of blood from the stock in the fridge. Sloshing the cold contents into the mug, she stuck it in the microwave and heated it up. It was a process she had done countless times for Ali, and now she was doing it for a near stranger. She knew in her gut, she was right. After seeing him struggle in the doorway, and the way he nearly fell through once she had invited him in, there could be no other explanation.

As the blood heated, she poured herself another coffee and sipped it, watching him sweep up the broken glass. When the microwave chimed, she took the mug out and stirred it, knowing by instinct that it was the perfect temperature. Taking both mugs, she headed back to the living room and watched her guest for a moment, then held out the mug she had made him. “Here, Grant, I think this might be a bit more to your liking.” She said as she offered him the blood.

Grant: Stonehouse assumed the role of cleaner and swept up the shards of porcelain that littered Dhara's floor. He noticed that his hostess was preparing another round of drinks and was mentally preparing himself to continue his drinking charade. He'd skilfully managed to discard his last load of liquid, but wondered if he would get away with the same trick for a second time.

The binging sound of the microwave announced the imminent arrival of the refreshments. Before Stonehouse had even accepted the fresh cup of coffee, he sensed that something was wrong. There was no aroma of coffee beans wafting up into his nostrils, and no steam rising from the top of the mug, indicating that the liquid wasn't particularly hot. Politely accepting the warm cup with a smile, Stonehouse's eyes immediately caught a glimpse of the contents. Rather than the brown solution so readily recognizable around the world as coffee, a stunned Stonehouse found himself gazing at a deep red concoction that resembled Ribena, a fruit drink that he used to love swigging down as a child. It only took a split second for Stonehouse's senses to register what Dhara was actually offering him. It was his new favourite tipple, his elixir, his crimson nectar... blood.

Stonehouse wearily raised his eyes towards Dhara, not exactly sure of what to say. The socialite was rarely left speechless, but this was one such occasion. The silence was deafening as he held both the ceramic chalice of blood and Dhara's gaze. Stonehouse's natural instincts took over as he muttered a pathetic response to her gift. "I suppose that I don't need any milk in this cup."

Dhara: She gave him a sad smile, he looked as if he’d been hit with a board straight upside the head. “I suppose not.” She said softly, moving to sit on the couch in her favorite spot. “Have a seat? Maybe I can help explain?” She sipped her own coffee and watched him. The way he held the mug, one would think it was made of gold and precious gems. Perhaps that’s how it felt to Grant, given that he didn’t seem to know what was going on.
“Grant, you’re a vampire.” She said quietly, but firmly. “And if I had to guess, I’d say you’re one of the ones that can’t eat or drink anything.” She gave him another small smile. “How long ago did it happen?” She asked gently, she motioned to the couch and another chair that was unoccupied so he could sit where he chose.

Grant: Stonehouse smiled at Dhara, the bringer of truth, before gazing down into the cup of blood. It had clearly been warmed to body temperature judging by the feel of the ceramic mug. Raising the cup into the air, Stonehouse released a sarcastic cry. "Cheers!" exclaimed Stonehouse, "Here's to my ******* great new life!"

Closing his eyes, Stonehouse brought the rim of the coffee mug to his lips and swigged back the crimson liquid inside, downing the the entire contents in one. It tasted so good! There had been a strange nagging sensation at the back of Stonehouse's mind ever since he had encountered Dhara in the sewers. He'd tried to keep it at bay but he slowly began to recognize the urge that had taken over him several times already. He had already noticed himself looking at his hostess' neck far too frequently, and had started to feel an itching in the back of his throat. He wondered if he would be able to continue their discussion for much longer without wanting to sink his fangs into her luscious flesh. Only his thirst for knowledge was keeping his thirst for blood in check. Now he had both.

Moving to the couch, Stonehouse slumped down onto the comfortable upholstery, carefully placing his cup on the floor next to him. "I'm sorry," said Stonehouse as he offered a half-hearted smile towards Dhara, "I don't mean to sound ungrateful for your help."

So his worst fears had been confirmed: Grant "the vampire" Stonehouse was officially in town. He looked at Dhara and could tell that she was concerned about his welfare, and probably his state of mind. He tried to alleviate her worries. "I suspected that something was wrong," explained Stonehouse, "ever since I arrived in Harper Rock a couple of months back, probably longer."

He paused, not exactly sure what to tell his newly appointed psychiatrist. "I really don't know much at all," continued Stonehouse, "how or where it happened, how I became... a vampire."

Stonehouse brought his hands to his head, resting his chin upon his fists.