Realistic or Modern Moonlit Retreats [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

‘It was kind of hard for my first impression of you to be a badass when you were being drunkenly attacked by a servant of Apep.’ Cassidy did not say that, because that was rude, and the tease felt like it’d be a bit off right then. Still, she could admit that Lilian had at least increased her badass appearances since that night they had to deal with all those hunters in their attempt to ambush Cassidy – the night they first met Inga and Antonia, and got involved in this shitshow that brought them to Vegas.

And it was really that cheesiness that kept winning her over, which slipped out so effortlessly – before the inevitable cringe that caused Cassidy to laugh. “Oh, that’s what we’re calling cool?” Cassidy couldn’t help the teasing comment, “I didn’t realize that was cool.” It probably could have been…but Lilian’s embarrassment killed it.

Still, she’d forget it for now, and let Lilian direct them towards the park which was close – although the atmosphere changed entirely as they turned that corner. Cassidy had seen such whiplash situations before, and it didn’t surprise her in Vegas, but she still wasn’t prepared for the way the bright streets and life deteroriated to a place where people clearly did drug deals. The ‘park’ was just a park in name. There were no places for children to play, and the upkeep was atrocious judging by the numerous bits of trash and debris.

“Hey—hey, spare a dollar? I just need one to win it….” Someone approached, but Cassidy chose not to engage, since her attention was already being pulled further into the park by the sight of Komeha’e and someone else that she did not recognize at this distance.

Nor as they got closer – close enough to see the situation was not a good one for Komeha’e.

The stranger did not release Komeha’e, “Mind your business!” He snapped instead, as Cassidy followed along behind Lilian, and almost casually let her hand and fingers elongate into a deadly, clawed weapon. It seemed to startle him – but he regained himself quick enough, let go of Komeha’e, who stepped back.

“Tch. More of Silvon’s ilk?”

“Cassidy, what are you doing here?” Komeha’e asked, “Did he send you?”

“No, I don’t understand what’s going on.” Although now that they were close enough, and she could get over the reeking scents of alcohol and blood, she recognized the stranger was another vampire. “What is going on?”

The stranger seemed to be weighing how to answer, but Komeha’e had no such restraint, “This asshole has been harassing me for months because he thinks I’m behind Silvon’s ventures in New Orleans!”

“I saw you in the bank!”

“There’s one bank open late enough to serve us. One.”

The stranger tsked. “You’re his childe. You would do his business there.”

“There are things called airplanes and the internet, and as you can see, he wants jackshit to do with me right now.”

“No. I know you’ve just been stalling so he has time to deal with me, and it’s over. I want the money, or I want Silvon.”

“Then let’s get Silvon,” Cassidy sighed, “He’s given us a room in the Luxor, and—”

“His home turf, with two of his childes and…some fucking human?” He didn’t understand that. “Fuck no, I’m not an idiot.”

~***~

Vrishaketu was not surprised with what Isolde wanted. Of course she wanted to add Antonia to her collection. Antonia’s talent was interesting – far more useful than Giannis’s, really. Forcing someone to be either terrified, or in awe, was a power he would have enjoyed adding to his arsenal. It forced people to listen, and when people listened in awe, they were more inclined to go along with things. He’d seen her do it often enough. It was, of course, why she had her position.

When she spoke, people listened.

They cowered, or they bowed. Most hadn’t figured out it was actually her power – not even Tristan, which amused Vrishaketu to no end. Everyone assumed she had something else, even if they couldn’t figure it out.

A true Roman, really – bread and circus! Awe-inspiring! With a sharp enough blade to deal with those who didn’t bow and scrape.

Vrishaketu wouldn’t mind dealing with her, but that wasn’t how things with Isolde worked, and he knew better than to take this kind of risk without certain securities in place. Not that he really cared if this body, or any body, died. He hadn’t cared about bodies for a very long time, except that he usually preferred male.

Female bodies still gave him a terrible sense of dysmorphia he didn’t enjoy.

This Inga would likely do that to him, but he would make do if it was necessary. For all he knew, she had a worthwhile enough talent to enjoy using her body for a bit, before discarding it for something better. The name meant nothing to him, so he doubted there was much to know, except that she was exceptionally skilled at killing.

“Of course,” Vrishaketu acknowledged, “I can bring Antonia to you as she is. She has her flaws, plenty exploitable.” Or they were, once upon a time. They could be again, and if he didn’t need the body, all the easier to exploit a few like poisoned blood. He still had his followers who could pick up when he faltered. He wasn’t delusional to think he could weaken his body with poison and not expect death as soon as Antonia figured it out, in some vain attempt to get to safety before she was overcome.

It couldn’t be a deadly poison.

Sadly.

“There is the matter of what I can expect to gain for bringing Antonia to you. Not that I won’t enjoy bringing down the human-lover,” Vrishaketu would, no point in hiding that, “but taking down someone of her caliber and reputation is a significant risk, Isolde. I want something worth my time.”

He would let Isolde think on her own a moment, before giving her ideas. He always had them, but so, too, did Isolde. She knew plenty about the other vampires around, and the things that appealed to one such as him.

It was always interesting to see how much she knew, or guessed.

What she got wrong, and what she got right.

 

[Syntra]

Trust me, you don't want me to mind my business. Most vampires found out fairly quickly that they didn't actually want that, probably because Lilian's main business was offing them. Or had been? Had been, definitely, but she could still make an exception or two for... well, for fuckers like that. For lowlives who wouldn't leave a lady alone. Really, kicking his teeth in would be doing the world a service! Because then, at least, he would hesitate before opening his big, gross mouth again.

Lilian listened as the man continued to spin his conspiracy theories, which were indeed getting more and more ridiculous by the second. "Jesus fucking Christ," she rolled her eyes, "Yeah, she dares to exist in a public space and that means she's involved in... uh, let me check my notes... some elaborate heist? Get a grip, dude." Something also told her that 'getting a grip' was not part of his job description, though, and, unfortunately, that instinct of hers proved to be entirely correct.

The man wanted to talk to Silvon -- except he didn't.

He wanted to solve things -- except he didn't.

Did he want to do anything but cause trouble?

She gave a long suffering sigh before glancing at the poor Komeha'e and shaking her head in obvious exasperation. Yeeeah, I don't think the mystery of Cass just up and leaving is so mysterious anymore. If being Silvon's childe translated to getting dragged into his bullshit against your will, then it really was no wonder that Cassidy wanted to have little to do with any of that.

How to deal with this, though?

A patient woman might have chosen to fight with her words, but Lilian Perry wasn't a patient woman.

Far from it.

Within the blink of an eye, her sword was out. There was a sharp sound as it exited its scabbard, the characteristic steely szszszs, and that was honestly the easiest way to tell what had just happened. The movement was too fast for most to be able to truly see it -- much like the movements that followed, which led to her pinning the poor guy against a tree. Unless he had some kinda bullshit ability, then he was pretty much trapped; not much he could do with a blade pointed straight at his heart, after all.

"I'd be careful about insulting random fucking humans," Lilian gave a sweet smile, "Some of them might turn out to be hunters." No need to mention that 'ex,' thing, as that wasn't great for intimidation purposes, "But really, huh? Not an idiot? Could have fooled me."

"What! So Silvon's also dealing with--"

"Cass," Lilian interrupted him, "Komeha'e - nice to meet you, by the way - any reason why I shouldn't pierce his heart right now?" She could think of several of those, but, again, none of those fit the scary hunter persona. Rationality was rarely terrifying enough! "Do you maybe want me to do it somewhere more fun? Or should I cut him to pieces for disrespecting you instead?"

Sure, she may have been leaning into the bad cop role a little too enthusiastically, but it was also working, judging by the vamp's wide eyes. "I... wait, no! You think that'll work? The bastard owes many people! I'm just a messenger. If something happens to me, you're all fucked."

Of fucking course that it can't be this simple. Still, Lilian wasn't quite willing to let him go, "Oh, hmm? Seems to me like we're fucked enough as is, so I miiiight just kill you for fun anyway. You know, since you're being so terribly uncooperative."

The man looked as if he regretted every single one of his life choices that had led him to this very moment, but it wasn't like he could do much about it now. "Fine," he relented, "But let's talk somewhere public."

"You heard the gentleman, Cass," Lilian smiled. "Call Silvon?" Then, to Komeha'e: "Who is he working for, anyway? And what's their fucking problem?"

~***~

It was annoying, the way Vrishaketu was so sure of himself. The way he acted like her request was no big deal, too. Isolde almost wanted him to fail, because wouldn't that be entertaining? The mighty Vrishaketu, destroyed once again by the same blood traitor that had sent him into hiding in the first place! There was a certain... hmm, narrative continuity to it. A certain flavor. Isolde also plainly liked Antonia more than she did Vrishaketu, solely because she knew what it was like to be a woman with a vision. To be better than everyone around you, so much that you towered over them.

Under any other circumstances, she might have rooted for the Optimate -- but, circumstances being what they were, Isolde also understood this was her best shot at adding Antonia to her collection.

Tragic!

Sacrifices had to be brought from time to time, however, and allowing Vrishaketu that sweet sense of vindication was one of them.

His price was another.

What shall I offer, then? There were many things Vrishaketu was interested in, and many things Isolde wasn't interested in giving up. Power was like scales; add too much, and you might find yourself weaker than even your servants. Add too little, and your so-called 'faithful ones' might be tempted to stab you in the back! No, Isolde wasn't really afraid of that, but it would be troublesome to deal with.

Fortunately, there was a way to sweeten the deal for both parties. For example, why not give him something she didn't even want? An obstacle she wished to be rid of, for her own purposes? Wrapped in a gift package, it might just be enticing enough. "I understand that," Isolde gave him one of her rare, sharp-as-a-blade smiles, "Which is why I am willing to offer something... interesting. Something you might turn into your golden opportunity, if you're resourceful enough. Say, Vrishaketu -- how would you like the access to Lady Valencia?"

 

[Lucyfer]

Cassidy’s eyes widened in horror when Lilian went right to violence, but thankfully, Lilian didn’t actually cause harm. It was intimidation that could go further, and Cassidy did give her a hard side-eye when it seemed the main reason it didn’t go further was because the vampire was just a messenger, of sorts.

She knew Lilian wouldn’t have…but she really played the role convincingly.

Cassidy nodded, and stepped away from the group in order to call Silvon. It rang far too many times…but he did pick up, “Cassidy – sorry, I’m in a meeting—”

“Cancel it,” Cassidy said, deadpan. “I’m out here with Komeha’e and some asshole who wanted to harm her, because of you. We’re in Huntridge Park.” She shifted her weight, trying to hear a bit of the conversation going on behind her. “You can come willingly or I can drag all of this trouble right to your door.”

She heard the sigh, but didn’t feel much sympathy for him, given the circumstances, “This can’t wait?”

“It seems like it’s been waiting a while already.”

“Do you know what he wants?”

“Money.”

“Tch.”

“I don’t know all the details, I’m sure he’ll be happy to give them to you.”

“Fine. Fine. Give me twenty.”



“He’s not exactly working for them, he’s a member of the Loogaroo clan, which Silvon apparently upset when he bought up a bunch of land in New Orleans that was sacred to them,” Komeha’e noted. “You could have bought it yourself.”

“Excuse me, we’re not all filthy rich, and the land was protected for decades. We weren’t watching it for the very second it would come on the market and no longer be protected wetlands.” The vampire huffed. “It’s also sacred to the Rougarou. He’s lucky they didn’t come up here.”

“Werewolves,” Komeha’e translated. They had their own clans and family units, too. Komeha’e knew a few, and the Rougarou had actually been fairly chill with her. “I swear, I had nothing to do with it, I was in New Orleans for other reasons, and came here to try and resolve this because I actually think it’s pretty shitty that he wants to use the land to open up some other tourist trap.” It was likely a bid to try and buy New Orleans and own it like he did Vegas, with more vodou and witchery going on.

~***~

Isolde had an idea, and it was…quite pleasing to hear, if he was honest. Lady Valencia was an elder, on par with himself, Amon, and Isolde. Her talent encompassed the entire rule of her clan: she could control those with her blood. That made it next to impossible to get close to her, since for one – she only kept her clan, and some humans, around. Two, she noticed if anything was wrong with members of her family.

‘It’ll be a human servant then.’

At least, it had better be, but Vrishaketu knew better than to ask for details at this stage. Isolde would have what he wanted, but she likely didn’t have it now. A missing human servant wouldn’t be welcomed back in after days or weeks without reason.

“I would quite like access to Lady Valencia,” no, it wasn’t ideal, but there were few who were ideal. The only male vampire that was ideal in this area was Amon, and quite frankly, Vrishaketu would commit suicide before even attempting to take him over. Amon’s talent trumped his. Amon’s talent probably trumped everyone’s, even Valencia, since it was all in the blood, and Amon’s blood trumped everyone’s. One drop, and it was over.

It really was a shame that Isolde hadn’t made sure Amon died in the massacre years ago. Oh sure, plenty of other elders bit the dust, but not him. How Amon wasn’t the leader to begin with was still something of a surprise, but then, he was invited into the Optimates – he wasn’t the founder. If one believed those old Romans, Amon just wandered into Rome one day and the rest, apparently, was history.

“I’ll accept that,” he said, “and I’ll be on my way then to get close to Antonia. With all the hunters coming into town, I have some ideas,” as much as he’d hate to wear the skin of a hunter, it would be immensely useful. “I’ll let you know who, soon enough,” not that Isolde was ever going to be hunting with the others, or tell the Veturia to spare any particular hunter.

It would just make it easier when he came back around to see her, if she knew the face he was wearing.

“I’ll see you soon, Isolde.”

A promise, of course.

He wouldn’t take too long with this.

 

[Syntra]

Cassidy talked, and Lilian, for the most part, listened. So, Silvon’s buying up sacred land? Jesus fucking Christ! This was basically the beginning of every horror story ever; a rich guy being a, well, rich guy, and not knowing the difference between the acceptable sort of greed and the greed that earned you a slap from God himself. Not that Lilian really believed in that stuff after all her experiences, but… yeah. Avoiding that kind of shittiness was just common sense! It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you could only fuck around for this long before you, indeed, found out.

Of course, a staggering amount of people still lacked that instinct. A staggering amount of people, and at least one vampire.

Goddammit, Silvon.

Something told her this was likely to become a catchphrase of sorts, because it seemed Silvon had enough skeletons in his closet that you could call it a graveyard. What was next, huh? Them finding out he’d built one of his precious casinos on top of a Native burial site? The Lilian from circa five seconds ago would have thought that that was moustache twirling villain-tier nonsense, but the Lilian from five seconds ago had also been blind to certain… realities of her situation.

You know, realities such as Silvon apparently being the real life equivalent of fucking Scrooge McDuck.

“I, uh, would like to say that I’m not actually Silvon’s woman,” she pointed out, “So I have nothing to do with his obviously cursed activities. Not gonna lie, that is pretty fucking shitty.”

“Nothing to do with him?” the vampire raised his eyebrow. “So you just threaten people for fun?”

Lilian shrugged, “Uh, kind of? It’s not for fun, though.” Even if it being nothing short of hilarious was a wonderful side effect, “I only do that when I feel like it’s going to get me something I want.”

“Great moral compass right there!”

“I mean… What I wanted you to do was to stop bothering a lady, so I wouldn’t be pointing fingers too much if I were you.”

“…Touché,” the vampire conceded. “So you aren’t a hunter?”

“Oh,” she smiled, and it wasn’t a pretty smile, “That part was true. I would have done it had you insisted on being unreasonable, too. Likely not the cutting you into pieces part, because that’s just tedious and doesn’t actually do much once the target is already dead, but yes.” It also wasn’t a great thing to do with a sword; not when blades dulled somewhat easily, and not when bones were as hard as they were. Still, Lilian didn’t think the guy was all too interested in a ‘swords are for stabbing, dammit’-themed lecture.

Actually, he looked like he wasn’t interested in much of anything that had to do with her, “That’s comforting to hear.”

“What’s your name, by the way? I’m Lilian.”

“Lilian?” the laughter was not what she’d expected, “And you kill people with that name?”

“Sorry for not being an Astarte, I guess,” she huffed, “You better be called something epic like Daemon, too, or I’m laughing you out of the room.”

“…”

“Well, what is it?”

“Claude.”

“Pfft! You heard that, Cass?” she turned to her girlfriend, “The nerve some people have, I fucking swear. Speaking of – is Silvon coming?”

~***~

Inga stared at the results, not quite comprehending what she was looking at.

At first, she’d thought it was an error; a badly calibrated machine, an inadequately prepared sample, or any of the thousands little things that could fuck with your analysis, if given the faintest chance. And, yeah, she had been doing this for centuries! Mistakes didn’t happen to her often! But she also wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that mistakes didn’t happen at all, which meant she hadn’t used up all of the blood.

There was still enough left for a second analysis. Maybe a third one, with conservative usage.

So, she was very careful this time, double checking literally everything that reasonably could be double checked, but… the results were the same. The numbers might as well have laughed her in the fucking face, because, shit, how did that compute?

In a last-ditch effort to make it make more sense, Inga took some of her own blood and ran it through the machine. Perhaps it was broken; perhaps it showed wrong values no matter what you put in, meaning this was just a colossal waste of time.

Except – it wasn’t.

The values checked out, more or less. Oh sure, there was some fluctuation – that was always the case with living things, as well as undead ones.

That wasn’t what really caught her attention, though.

Wait, what the fuck? Why does this read like he’s that much older than me?

A vampire’s exact age was not written in his blood, but you could make a reasonable guess based on it. After all, blood changed; blood circulated, blood was created, and blood perished, the cycle as old as time itself. Most importantly, blood reacted to shit.

A new vamp’s blood was a mess as a rule, likely because the body still struggled to deal with the realities of the transformation. An old vamp’s blood? Much more stable. And the older you were, the… stronger the concentration levels of that protein, as far as Inga could tell. Once, her theory had been that it just claimed more and more and more of you, the hungry beast that it was, as it made its mark. Logical, right? Except that her own values didn’t really change in time, so either a) the process was much slower than expected, b) it was something else. ‘Something else’ was what Inga was leaning towards, personally, even if she had little idea of what that something was.

Not the point, though.

The point was that Max looked downright ancient.

Yeah, I’m not telling him that.

Not until she had a better understanding of what that meant, and whether it demanded any action. Likely, she couldn’t tell Antonia either, because the woman had already looked like she wanted to eat her alive the last time she’d questioned Max’s story, and not in the fun way.

But, yeah! Inga wasn’t giving her precious data to anyone! Least of all to suspicious-ass punks who may or may not have been lying about everything. Technically, she supposed this could be his brand of ‘superhero level nonsense,’ as Max had put it; blood manipulation wasn’t that out there, much like Amon’s existence proved.

It could also be something else, though. Something much more sinister. And Inga, much like all the vamps who had seen some shit, had learned a thing or two about a survival tactic called ‘healthy paranoia’ ages ago.

No, she didn’t know what to do about it yet – and now wasn’t the time to figure that out, because dammit, she had a date with Antonia!

Was it a date?

It existed in the weird space where it could be that, but didn’t have to be, and, admittedly, it was driving Inga a little crazy.

Well, crazier than usual.

Schrodinger’s date, she thought as she stood in front of the mirror, having changed her outfit for the fifth fucking time. Not that it mattered much; Inga didn’t actually have what most people would consider ‘nice clothes,’ aside from that one torn dress. And even had she had them? Yeah, not the occasion for that, since they were still going to spar. It was also why she couldn’t do anything different with her hair, unless she wanted it to be in her face 100% of the fucking time. Still, Antonia… presumably liked her as she was? If she liked her at all?

Aargh!

Calm down, she told herself, which didn’t, in fact, work out. Who would have guessed?

It’ll be fine.

Maybe!

It really depended on whether Antonia even swung that way, because if she did, then – yeah, Inga guessed she could view some signals in a little more favorable light than she had before, back when she’d thought there was no chance in hell she’d ever give her the time of her day. How did you even ask about something like that, though? ‘Hey Antonia, you a friend of Sappho’s?’ ‘So women, huh? Pretty hot, aren’t they? Please say yes!’ ‘No pressure at all, but would you theoretically fuck me, if you ever got over the Giannis thing?’ Each option was worse than the one before it, and just thinking of saying such things to Antonia made her want to die.

What was worse, she did have proof of her being into men. Well, kind of? With Antonia’s husband, at least, which didn’t have to mean that much considering women likely didn’t have a lot of say in getting married during her time. During most times, to be frank; it had baffled her endlessly, since for all their faults, Inga’s people had at least made it pretty easy for everyone to get a divorce. You didn’t like your husband? Just say so three times with some witnesses, and, bam! A free woman!

But she also didn’t have the time to reminisce about that. Arriving late was the one way to make Antonia mad for sure, which, yeah – not a good way to start things.

So Inga swallowed her worries and did, in fact, arrive in time!

“Hey,” she gave Antonia one of her rare honest smiles once a servant ushered her in, and that was when the realization hit her. She… hadn’t actually prepared anything to talk about? What did you even say in such situations? Fuck! Shit!

(It turned out social interactions could actually be pretty hard when the only thing you’d been practicing for centuries was pissing people off, and when you did not want to do that for once. Just her luck, really.)

Still, Inga clearly couldn't stay silent: “So, how did you want to do this? I can either show you some tricks, or we can do what we did last time, or some combination of both. I mean – you are good, but I think I could teach you a thing or two still.” Of course, because she had been doing this for quite a while, presumably unlike the other woman, “Though I have been wondering, Antonia. How did you even get into this? You don’t really seem like the type, and you have Felix, and… probably a whole army of bodyguards.”

There! A conversation! A sort-of-polite conversation!

Hell must have frozen over.

 

[Lucyfer]

Claude was not at all an intimidating name. Cassidy was starting to think she won the jackpot, although the only reason her name had any intimidation to it was because of Butch Cassidy, and no other reason. Thankfully, she was in the right country for that to work out for her. So, she did chuckle at Claude, before just sighing at the question, “Yeah, he said to give him about twenty minutes.”

“He’s gathering—”

“He’s gathering fuckall is what he’s doing,” Cassidy said, “and if he does come with people, don’t worry, I’m probably on your side.” Komeha’e also gave an agreeable hum, which was likely not what Claude expected. He probably didn’t even believe it, but he was willing to act pacified for the next few minutes, until Silvon did show up, looking annoyed, but annoyed and alone.

“Who is this?” Silvon asked brusquely once he joined the circle.

“Claude of the Loogaroo,” he introduced himself, “The ones in New Orleans, where you bought up all that swamp land,” he pointed out, “We want it back.”

“I didn’t buy it from the Loogaroo, so I don’t think I’ll just be giving it back, unless you can pay me more than what I bought it for,” Silvon said, sighed as he looked to Komeha’e, “Really, this is what you came to annoy me about? People upset I bought land fair and square?”

“I wouldn’t bother you if they weren’t threatening me.”

“It’s not right, Silvon,” Cassidy butted in, before Silvon could go on a rant about capitalism and obtaining the land ‘fair and square’. “Even you know they’ve held that land for centuries. You know all about bad land trades and bullshit with capitalism, you know what happened to Komeha’e’s lands, for god’s sake, and then you go and buy it to, what, challenge Disney?”

“I’d never waste my time challenging Disney,” he said, “I’m not child friendly.”

“Not the point! Sell them the land back for the same price.”

Silvon looked offended.

Claude also looked upset. “He’s the one who—”

“He’s bought it, yeah, yeah, and it was wrong – someone else would have bought it and you couldn’t have negotiated with them,” Cassidy didn’t like it, either, but getting Silvon to just give it away wasn’t going to happen. That was five steps too far.

“I’m honestly surprised none of you have let learned no land is sacred,” Silvon stated, clearly annoyed with this entire situation, “You’re all old enough to know better, you can all move.” As if things were that easy.

~***~

Plans were starting to come together for an assault not on the HQ, but one of Michael’s bars, but still far too slow for Antonia’s standards. And she thought she was the Empress of Patience! Of course, she wasn’t acting, so that was likely still a point to her favor. Inga’s arrival was a welcome relief, if only because it was a distraction from the endless nothing and inaction (well, besides her usual actions of finances – the vampires who thought her power was “money” weren’t really far from the truth).

Antonia was at least dressed properly for the spar, in that she was in slacks and a top that wasn’t too flowy. She nodded at Inga’s greeting, and turned easily to lead her on back to the garden where they could spar for the time being, answering the first question turned her way easily enough, “A mix is best. Tricks are nice, but it’ll be better if I see them in action and then learn them.”

Then she would understand why they were useful, and not just flashy nonsense.

Some were just flashy nonsense.

Sometimes flashy nonsense was fun.

The question of why caused her to laugh, “Did you forget the massacre?” Well, that was one reason. She shouldn’t bring it up every time, but when it literally did impact everything she had chosen to do from that moment, there was almost no alternative to offering it as an example. Not that bodyguards or even fighting prowess would have helped her there, really. There were good fighters who were taken down.

“I also had brothers, and a family legacy that supposedly went back to Hercules. I had an interest as a human, and it never fully went away. I just never used much of my time for it,” she had childes to raise up, connections to make, vampires to put in their place in the Optimates, and a host of things to do that never ended – what time for fighting? Then the childes were taken away, and Antonia swore off connections with other vampires, which gave her time.

Mostly, the lack of childes, if she was honest.

Childes took up too much damn time and energy.

She’d take all of them back, of course.

She’d even take every nuisance – the ones who brought Giannis running to her side before she exploded – back. She’d trade all these years with the sword for it.

“I take it you always wanted to be a warrior – human and vampire?” Antonia asked as they reached the garden. It wasn’t nearly as put together as the one at her old place, but it was getting there. It wasn’t a great season to start the kind of garden she preferred, though.

At least the marble elements were still pretty.

“Or did you humor being a witch?” her interests leaned into that – well, now a scientist, but back in the day it would have been witchcraft. She imagined Inga had been called that more than once. She’d clearly been at it for years.

 

[Syntra]

Aaand there it is - another episode of family drama. Admittedly, it was a little more high stakes than that; most families didn't really squabble over land, unless they were either a) super rich, b) part of mafia, c) both. But, really, weren't vamps the oldest mafia family in the world? A lot of them were rich, and then there was the secrecy thing, and also apparently the somewhat common desires to murder the fuck out of one another.

Yep. This totally checked out!

Lilian acknowledged Silvon's arrival with a greeting, though she didn't really say much, instead preferring to... well, to give him a chance to prove himself to be a little less of an asshole than everyone thought. Things couldn't be that bad, right? She'd jumped on the 'Silvon sucks' bandwagon, sure, but if her recent experiences had taught her anything, it was that things were rarely as simple as they looked. So, there was probably some other reason, something like--

Greed?

Yeah, no. Sometimes, things were exactly as they looked, and in some cases, the only reason they weren't like that was because they were way fucking worse.

"Move?!" Lilian and Claude cried out at the same time, in a rare moment of harmony.

"Wait, what the hell? They actually live there, and it somehow ended up being on sale? This cannot be legal." 'How can you even think of turning it into a tourist trap, you heartless fuck?' was another question Lilian was tempted to ask, but managed not to. Some part of her was still hung up on Silvon being her girlfriend's Dad, and... yeah, that did make one marginally more diplomatic.

"What part of 'capitalism is fucked' did you misunderstand, Lilian?" Claude rolled his eyes. "Of course it was perfectly legal. And you know that we don't have that kind of money!"

Okay. Okay, she could see how Silvon wouldn't want to give it up for free, even if he was loaded and totally could. After all, capitalism was one hell of a drug. So:

"Does it need to be money?" Lilian turned to Silvon. "I mean, I don't know what kind of shit you'd be interested in, but presumably this clan's friendship would be worth a lot to you. Isn't there something they could do, in exchange for you leaving the land alone? Maybe that, and some cash?"

Well. Becoming a vampire clan lawyer also wasn't what Lilian had expected from her life, but here she fucking was!

Claude apparently didn't like it, though, "And since when can you make those decisions for us? I don't remember you being our spokeswoman."

"Oh, give me a fucking break," Lilian waved her hand. "Do you want to actually solve this, or are you happy just annoying random people about it and hoping for the best?"

For that, Claude didn't actually have an answer.

~***~

A mix. Sure, that made sense, and it was also way more fun, so ten out of ten Ingas approved! Or rather, the one existing Inga did. Even she could admit that more of them would have been difficult to handle, both for the ecosystem and the world at large, but it was an amusing rhetorical device.

What wasn't amusing was Antonia pointing out the reason behind her swordfighting skills, but... yeah, she had quite literally asked for it. "Fair enough," Inga sighed, "That probably would change your perspective on things." Although, it turned out it wasn't a change as much as it was, what, a shift in priorities? A return to the roots? To the admittedly badass roots, if the story was even remotely true. "Heracles," she chuckled, "And here I thought Tristan's nickname for you was overblown, when it should have been Goddess the entire time."

Whoops! Too much? Probably, but given that 'too much' had been Inga's modus operandi since time immemorial, Antonia was likely used to that by now.

She also did ask a question about her, which, wow, was that what the whole getting to know each other thing was about?

It... did feel nice, to know that Antonia cared. She had to, otherwise she wouldn't have inquired. Fake politeness really wasn't something that was ever on the table, with her.

Inga couldn't help but laugh a little, "You could say that. It was a matter of what I didn't want, as much as it was about what I wanted. I had brothers, too, so I couldn't inherit," not that there was much to inherit in the first place, "And most other options involved me getting married. To a man! Can you even believe?" Inga couldn't, mostly because men obviously weren't for marriage. Not even most men wanted to marry other men! That she had been expected to do it, just because she'd been born with the right body parts, was the definition of unfair.

"I still think it was the right choice, by the way. I mean, getting killed wasn't all that fun, but I'd take that over dying of boredom any day." Or, well, over a marriage with a man. The one (1) incident Maya wouldn't fucking shut up about had been annoying enough!

"But no, I never wanted to be a witch. I only got into that after the massacre," no, not running away from that anymore, if Antonia wasn't, "For reasons. Mortality-related reasons, mostly. I was looking for a way to cure myself of vampirism, and heard of people who knew things, and decided that I, too, wanted to be someone who knows things, so that I could die more easily. Though, looking back, I think it actually saved me."

That comment likely deserved an explanation, which she was happy to provide, "I wasn't really myself back then. I had... issues," had, as in past tense, since clearly she was the definition of well-adjusted now, "And all the potion-making gave me something to do." Not that murders weren't 'something to do,' by all accounts, but-- "Something different than usual, I mean. It really does teach you a lot about managing your temper, because when you fuck up and destroy your equipment in a fit of rage, it doesn't actually make you succeed, and it's you who needs to clean it up afterwards. Also, when you realize you could have studied those failed samples, but now they're gone and you have no idea how to replicate them? Pain." Pfft, totally not anything that had happened to her before! As a lover of theories, Inga was speaking purely from that perspective.

Right.

"But when you do succeed, it's like, wow. So that's how it works! I wonder what it means -- if x is true, is y true as well? What are the implications? And how can I use that? That sort of thing. It is a big, world-sized puzzle, except you can also use it to kill people. Or cure them. Or do things you couldn't even imagine doing before, since you had no way of conceptualizing them. I don't know, I... like doing stuff."

The queen of eloquence, right there!

But that probably was the reason Inga still hadn't killed herself. Being denied Valhalla was one thing, though it was also true she could have been more pro-active in searching out, quote unquote, certified 'oh shit, oh fuck' situations. Maybe she would have been, if not for the pet project of the day, of the week, of the century. Something had always caught her interest, and before she realized it, bam! An entire millennium had passed.

'I can always do it later,' she'd thought, once.

Which, yeah. True enough!

What Inga hadn't counted on was getting coaxed into a promise to not follow through.

Wanting to keep it was also a complication.

Inga drew her sword, and assumed the stance, "So, what do you even like to do, Antonia? Aside from plotting murder, and learning how to murder more effectively."

 

[Lucyfer]

Did it need to be money? No, Silvon knew that, though he wasn’t all that interested in alliances with other clans. He wasn’t a part of a clan and had seen enough of the nonsense that went down between clans to know he wanted no part of it. It was the one good thing his sire had done – never joined any clan, and never made one, for that matter.

Still, there were useful things that could be offered from this. “It’s not just the money I’m losing, I’m losing out on an opportunity,” he noted, shifting his weight a bit to the other side, frowning, but he was thoughtful.

Cassidy could at least recognize that. “What would you have to offer to make up for the lost profits?”

“I’d…have to discuss it between myself and the others – the wolves would be included in this. I’m sure some could be spared as bodyguards occasionally.”

Silvon nodded. That was at least a start, although he wasn’t sure how much he’d trust them with guarding himself, personally. Projects he had in the works could at least be guarded. “Fine. Fine. I’ll hold off on any projects to give you time to go discuss it with everyone, but I will expect a downpayment this week of at least $50,000. That’s far less than I paid,” though by the way Claude winced, you’d think he was asking a fortune.

By their standards, he probably was. They weren’t the richest vampires – they might actually be among the poorest since they never saw great value in cultivating wealth, compared to their sacred lands and other works of the occult and gods knew what other nonsense they thought took priority over their physical wellbeing.

He couldn’t believe he was being talked into this. “There? Are we clear now, can I go home?”

“Can I get your direct number?”

“I suppose,” Silvon offered it out, and took Claude’s as well. When Claude did leave, he glanced at Komeha’e. “You should have just ignored him.”

“Hard to do when he’s stalking me.” She couldn’t help but glare daggers. “You know what you did isn’t right.”

If he did, he didn’t show it, rolling his eyes, “It’s no worse than what Disney himself did when he bought up all the swamplands, there were people who thought those were sacred, too.”

“Have I ever said what he did wasn’t fucked? Have I?”

“I think you say the vast majority of what Disney does, and did, is fucked,” Silvon deadpanned, “How are you involved in all of this, Cassidy? I thought you were looking for something else?” He turned the subject.

Cassidy sighed, “Komeha’e kidnapped one of your cats, and I need that cat, so….”

“Pete? Why, do you need McDonald’s?” Komeha’e asked, “that’s all he ever talks about is McDonald’s.”

~***~

‘Well, it should be goddess.’ Not that she was one, nor would Antonia even claim it in public. She knew how to not get stabbed 50 times, and one way of doing that was avoiding all the trappings of godhood. That was a surefire way to convince someone to find out if she bled blood or ichor.

Somehow, Amon avoided that most of the time, although it was debatable whether or not he bled blood or ichor, all things considered with relation to his blood.

As for Inga, it seemed her choice of a warrior was somewhat due to limited options, but not the same sort as Antonia. “Mm.” At least she could choose to marry or not marry. She could even inherit! Rome had not been nearly as grand for a woman in that regards, but Antonia had played her part, she was the perfect matron, she bore children – and died. Probably another perfect part in some people’s fucked up minds, although she knew Rufus mourned…and remarried. As you did.

“Are men really that bad?” Antonia couldn’t help but chide, “I’ll admit my husband wasn’t a winner, but I didn’t get to pick him.” Of course, women weren’t all that bad, either. She’d always had the options of both in her mind, and limitations? It baffled her. Of course, Giannis had limited himself, and most she met seemed to, in one way or another. Amon was at least of the same mind as her – both were fine.

“But I digress.” She knew it was pointless to talk about such things that weren’t often, if ever, choices, “The massacre seemed to have changed us both.” Inga wasn’t cured of her suicidal tendencies, but this had kept her alive. She had found wonder in life again, a reason to be, and secrets to uncover. “For the better, for you, it seems.” Not for the better for her, but she assumed that went without explanation, even if Inga had never known her before, and for some reason loved her, which was baffling since, well, Antonia didn’t have an answer to Inga’s question about likes.

A weapon didn’t have likes.

A weapon had a handler, the killing point, and a purpose, and it kept on until it broke, or it finished its job. There was no room in there for likes – although Antonia supposed she did like the gladius she picked up. That was still in the realm of things relating to murder, so that wasn’t a good answer.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I still remain skeptical of some of the sciences – it’s a bit ignorance, and a bit that others believe things too easily,” she could admit she didn’t understand it, and so, of course, that made her skeptical of things. “One day, perhaps I’ll have to watch you at work with something…easy so I can grasp how it all works.” Not that it would explain all of it, but, “I’m used to just paying people to make things happen. I’ve never questioned much the how it happens. I certainly didn’t question airplanes,” a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have understood, but…I suppose transportation is a thing I like, though not in the way I suppose you like your experiments.”

How to explain?

“It was always the way to making money. Transportation, and communication. I suppose I do understand cars, I can fix most problems with them,” it wasn’t just cleaning them, but then, “that may have more to do with the fact they’ve taken the place of horses in my life, though.” And she knew how to care for horses, so of course, she would know how to take care of a car. It was a necessity.

Why was this question hard? No, she knew why it was hard, she just didn’t want to tell Inga ‘I have no idea who I without my hatred and I both fear and await the day my revenge is finished’ – because she didn’t want that pity. What else could arise from such a statement?

So, of course, she deflected with a half-truth, “I suppose I just like making money.” And she took her own stance, “Murder is far more entertaining than that, though.” And when it seemed Inga was ready, she would make the first move to bring the actual conversation to an easy end.

 

[Syntra]

See? Call me the vampire whisperer! Yeah, that was one of those thoughts that Lilian was going to keep to herself, for many reasons. The weird dehumanization that she still kind of defaulted to was getting… well, weirder, the more time she spent in Cassidy’s company, although it likely wasn’t dehumanization per se given that they literally weren’t human. Still, though! That didn’t exactly stop it from being a) awkward, b) a premium asshole move. And like, nothing wrong with the b) part, but Lilian much preferred for her asshole moves to be targeted at the people that she did not like.

Sometimes, ‘shutting the fuck up’ really was the best solution. Eugene had totally given her the advice before, and Lilian retroactively resented him for being right, but… yeah.

“I don’t know, Silvon,” the huntress shook her head, “Disney was the kind of supervillain that donates to charities for good PR, but then strangles kitten in secret. You really wanna compare yourself to him?” Standards, bitches! When would standards return from war? It really was quite sad, the way some people actively sought out the bottom of the barrel just to make themselves feel a little better about their own shitty decisions. Guess what? The existence of other, worse motherfuckers didn’t justify your own fuck-ups!

(And yes, this was somewhat rich coming from Lilian of all people, but let’s ignore that for now.)

“I fucking wish,” Lilian sighed. “The reality in which getting some McDonald’s is the biggest thing on my mind sure is appealing.” That there unironically were people like that filled her with envy, though it was more of a… well, a strange, theoretical kind of envy. Something that wasn’t, but could have been, and wasn’t that a thing? This wondering about what all the what-ifs, and just how different her life would have turned out had she been a little bit less herself and a little bit more normal.

Well, that ship had clearly sailed.

Or maybe not?

Oh, it definitely had. That this felt more normal than her previous normal was a great argument on its own!

“We’ve spoken to the cat mafia,” yeah, that this was a valid sentence still kind of baffled her, “and apparently Pete also knows a great deal about shady deals with a… certain gem we’re trying to locate.” For deicide-related reasons. She wasn’t going to mention that, though; likely, the less Komeha’e knew about this, the better for her mental health. The entire affair was a giant fucking headache, if you weren’t either a) Amon, who was giddy about getting to duke it out with a fellow god, or, b) Inga.

Then again, something told Lilian Inga would be plenty excited about a fucking apocalypse, if it meant she could study it and invent a few crackhead theories. Yep, definitely an aggravating circumstance!

“Why did you kidnap him, anyway? I swear, you guys have some really weird ways of dealing with shit. ‘I don’t like what you’re doing, so I’m gonna take away your cat’ – was that it?”

No, Lilian didn’t sound impressed at all. So far, this entire fiasco had been an exercise in how to not communicate, and she expected it to get even worse before it actually got better.

Well, at least Claude had gotten what he wanted? And given that his concerns were pretty justified, that was a win, in her book.

~***~

Inga, also, wasn’t exactly impressed, although for vastly different reasons. In fact, the expression on her face may have been closer to… indignation? Something like that, though also peppered with disbelief. “An honest question, Antonia. Have you ever seen men?” For the longest time, she had been convinced everyone was just collectively being nice when it came to appreciating their physical form, because, yeah, not their fault. A lot of them were good people, too! So, Inga could understand it, the same way she could understand why you’d go ‘aww’ over a three-legged puppy, even if it actually wasn’t all that cute and the sight sort of made you cringe. The discovery that most of her fellow women unironically did like them checked out from the biological perspective, but knowing that still hadn’t quite erased the original bafflement.

“Plus, kissing one feels like rubbing my face against sandpaper. I have actually given it a go,” it had seemed like a bad idea from the beginning, but, you know, don’t knock it till you try it, and Inga Singedottir was nothing if not open-minded. Sometimes, this worked out for the best; at other times, what you got for the curiosity was the equivalent of a kick in the teeth. “Not my best decision. Even in the context of my other bad decisions, which is saying a lot.”

(More evidence that Antonia was straight, by the way. Not a word about women, but more talking about men? Yeah, Inga could read the signs, alright. Not like she had to think about it now, though!)

But indeed, the massacre seemed defining for both of them, although in wildly different ways. For Inga, it had been more of a straw that had broken the camel’s back; for Antonia, it had changed everything. In a weird, roundabout way, it had also changed everything for her, though only recently, after fate had been like ‘fuck you, personally’ and tied so much more to it.

A pretty good lesson about the consequences of one’s actions, except Inga would have preferred not to learn it like this.

Of course, life was rarely a kind teacher. Most times, you could count yourself lucky that you lived through the lesson, if you were into the whole ‘survival' thing.

Which, could be a big if.

Inga wasn’t sure what she had expected her to say, but it was, and also wasn’t, that. Sheesh. Live a little, why don’t you? None of that was fun! Making money was work, which nobody enjoyed so much unless they had literally nothing else. Inga knew what that was like, from the times before her own ventures had shifted into something truly exciting, and— Oh. Yeah, that did make it click; the little ‘why’ behind so many things, and the answers to all the questions that she perhaps had been too afraid to ask.

What was it that she’d said during their first meeting?

”I would rather stay lucid and unhappy.”

And, of course, her own response:

“You should find something you love.”

How was I so right about her? Because, yes, Antonia totally should do that! There was literally no reason why she should… mourn forever… Oh. Oh, shit, it totally was mourning, wasn’t it? And, yeah, Inga knew by now that much had been taken away from Antonia, but the sheer fucking extent of it still baffled her. No, it wasn’t pity that she felt, but something much closer to regret?

Regret at it having happened at all.

More than that, also regret at having been part of it.

I’ll help her find it, then. Corpses were all fine and dandy, but they weren’t all there was to life! And Inga thought she was… something of an expert at living, ironically. She’d done so much, and seen so much, and, dammit, Antonia wasn’t dead! And as long as that was true, that spark wasn’t dead, either. It never was, because if she’d learned anything at all during the long, weird journey that had been her existence, it was that that shit had a way of returning, usually when you least expected it.

After all, when was the last time she’d fallen in love?

Still, it wasn’t like Inga could say that outloud. How to even phrase it? ‘I’ll make you happy?’ Yeah, that was… one of those things that had ‘too much’ written all over them.

So, Inga just gave a smile, “I have never even tried that. Making money, I mean. People always seemed to want to exchange them for the most boring things, so I figured I… didn’t need it? Money is for survival, and I survive just fine without it.” One of the benefits of not needing food! Or much of anything, really, “Why do you think that you wouldn’t get it, though? If you can repair cars, you must know how they work. And if you know that, then you can learn about different mechanisms, as well!” Cars, or planes, or the inner workings of a vampire’s body; it really wasn’t that unalike, in that you just had to care enough. Which, wow! Did Antonia care enough to want to know about what she did? “Don’t say that twice,” Inga grinned, “Or I’m gonna treat it as a promise. And then I’m going to explain everything to hell and back and make you cry.”

But there wasn’t much space for more talking, because, yeah, waving your sword around did eat your focus.

Did she regret it?

Well, almost. She did and didn’t, because different kind of fun was still fun.

And no, underestimating Antonia wasn’t a mistake Inga remotely intended to make twice, but she did stray from her usual style. Mostly, the reason for that was that she wanted to show Antonia things that she could reasonably do – so, yeah, no throwing around advantages like height or reach. Not like Inga could fully remove any of that, of course, though she could rely on it less!

What that resulted in was a more technical performance, as well as her letting Antonia be a little more aggressive in general.

Also in Inga earning a bit more bruises than usual, but those didn’t bother her. “See, this is good practice for me as well,” she explained, in between blows, “My defense is a little sloppy.”

It wasn’t everything that she wanted to show to Antonia, though. Defense was good, but beating the shit out of your opponent was better, and to that end, disarms or knockdowns usually came in a clutch. Hard to kill someone when you couldn’t fight anymore, after all!

So, Inga waited for a convenient opening and then stepped aside, using Antonia’s own momentum against her.

Except, she didn’t actually want her to fall.

The two conflicting desires combined in her performing the move, but then catching her before that could happen, which, fuck! That… was a little too close to a hug. A little too close, in general. Also, why was her brain not supplying any thoughts at all? Or at least executing the script for letting go? “So, um, that’s how you do it,” she chuckled, “Except you usually do let your opponent drop. That's… kind of the point.”

As if that wasn’t obvious!

 

[Lucyfer]

It really would have been nice of McDonald’s was the most important thing on their mind. As it was, it was secondary, although likely to play a role. Pete was going to want that settled before he helped them out, even if they just helped him out of this jam with Komeha’e. Cassidy was trying not to think about that, though, as the explanation was given – very little, at that, to Komeha’e.

“I was never informed of this,” Silvon muttered, not pleased this matter with Pete wasn’t reported to him.

“That’s the problem,” Komeha’e sighed, “I kidnapped the cat figuring it would get back to him,” she gestured, “and yeah, then we could have dealt with this, because his cat mafia,” as Lilian put it, “is more important than anything else, except maybe his bird mafia.”

Silvon rolled his eyes, but wouldn’t counter. The bird mafia was pretty damn good at what they did, honestly. They were just a bit…well, flaky. Scatterbrained. Birds also existed in larger numbers, so it was harder for other people to keep track of which was a regular bird, and which was a bird that might be spying on them.

“I’ll let him go. You can come pick him up if you like,” Komeha’e offered, “he’s been well-kept.”

“I’m certain he’d disagree,” Silvon noted.

“Cats disagree with everything on principal. This is why I prefer dogs.”

“Uuugh,” Silvon groaned aloud at that, “Dogs are so annoying. So eager to please, they’d chew their own leg off.”

“I thought you liked sycophants?” Cassidy noted innocently.

“Cute,” he did not think it was cute. “I’ll be going back then, seems I need to do some more research into the territory I bought to figure out where to go from here with selling it again.” For cash and other things, but selling it either way, and he wasn’t happy about this.

Cassidy nodded. There was no good reason to keep him around, and he would likely just complicate things further if he lingered, which none of them wanted.

“Let’s head back to Caesar’s Palace,” Komeha’e said to them, and started to walk. “It’s been a while since I saw you, Cass. And your…friend?”

“Girlfriend.”

“Oh! Congratulations.” Komeha’e looked a little surprised by this, but not unhappy with it. “Where have you been, anyways?”

“Up in the warzone, as we’re calling it now,” she sighed, “Not intentionally to get involved in a war, but – it’s a long story, and better you not know too much.”

“I’ve heard a bit about it,” she noted, “reinforcements being called in and all that. So you were one of the hunters in that rogue group, or…?” she asked Lilian as they made their way back onto the neon lit sidewalks .

~***~

Antonia didn’t fully buy that Inga’s defenses were sloppy. She recognized that Inga was holding back to help show her things, and that much was appreciated. Covering it with a comment about sloppy defenses? Not so much – and she did try to pay her back for such a thing, of course.

Antonia was set in a few habits, but she could adapt. Making those adaptations stick, or be easy to recollect in future situations, was another story, and certainly why sparring ought to be more than a one-time thing. It likely would be, as well.

They got on well enough in the spar, even if other areas needed improvement. Then again, Antonia was an enjoyer of murder and murderous actions.

When Inga walked her into a trap of sorts, one that would have caused her to plummet, she was only annoyed with herself for it. To let her own strike get the best of her was pathetic, really, and she’d played into it. What did surprise her was when Inga reached out to catch her, and pull her back up, all but flush against Inga.

It was a good thing silence was called for as the first reaction, because that’s all Antonia could muster in that first moment of realizing how close they were. It was also good that Inga broke that silence to explain the fatal error, not that Antonia didn’t see it after the fact.

“Are you sure about that?” the whole dropping thing. She didn’t push away, or try to gain ground. “This reaction seems like it would startle just about any foe and leave a nice opening,” which was fairly true, assuming Inga had prepared and pressed Antonia into a sword as much as into Inga herself. What was Antonia going to do, not get caught and pulled up?

That was a difficult task.

From the ground she had more options.

“You might want to reconsider your strategies a bit.” But then again, Antonia had killed more people in such intimate positions than she cared to admit to, so perhaps that was why it was easy for her to think of it, easy for her to even suggest it, and keep her head relatively clear as she pressed her empty hand near the cloth over Inga's heart, “Holding them too long here also risks yourself.” Not that Antonia would make good on any strike.

She kept her sword arm down and against her side.

And she kept her fangs well behind her lips…even if she did cock a smirk that showed one as she tilted her head with a bit of a smile on that threat.

 

[Syntra]

Silvon promptly excused himself, which was probably for the best. No, scratch that—definitely for the best! If the conversation continued in the same vein, it likely would have devolved into something ugly, and, yeah, Lilian wasn’t all too interested in witnessing that. It was far more pleasant to end everything on a semi-sweet note, with Silvon… doing the right thing?

After being strong-armed into it.

At least he could be strong-armed into not being a little bitch, unlike certain people. Deana came to mind, for one. Yeah, yeah, standards and everything, but Lilian still couldn’t help the comparison, nor could she help thinking back to that night in the café when she’d lost her for real. As far as parental figures go, Cass did hit the fucking jackpot here. A questionable, not entirely ideal sort of jackpot, but really, how many of them were? People were people, and sucking just happened to be part of the package. When that unfortunate feature came in play, Lilian… kind of thought it was everyone else’s job to beat some sense into them?

God, she really was becoming a sap.

Cassidy could probably be blamed here, if only because she’d been kind enough to give her a chance. It would have been easy for her to tell her to go fuck herself in the beginning, but she hadn’t done that, and that one thing had changed everything.

Yep, unadulterated sappiness alert! During moments like this, Lilian was genuinely glad that there was no reputation for her to worry about anymore.

“See you later,” she said to Silvon, “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make this work for everyone.” Then it was time to join Cassidy and Komeha’e, pick up Pete, and hopefully obtain a real fucking clue. All things considered, it was a nice night; cloudy, but not too cold, with that crisp taste of autumn hanging in the air.

Given all the lights, it likely was prettier than during daytime. Not like they could replace the sun, but it certainly was better than the usual dreary, horror movie-type scenery.

“Mm,” Lilian nodded, before looping an arm around Cassidy’s shoulders, “Then I had the gall to want some actual answers, and you can imagine just how reasonable their reaction was. Okay, fine – I have also killed a few of them, but they pretty much started it.” Mostly, by attacking Cass. It had been something of a miracle that her moral compass hadn’t been fucked beyond redemption by that point, and that she had seen it as something worth jumping the ship over, though she also had a sneaking suspicion it had been her impulsiveness more than anything else.

After all, it had been pretty fucking stupid.

But also right.

Then again, having morals usually did imply a degree of stupidity, so maybe that went without saying.

“So you two are basically,” she looked at Cass first, then at Komeha’e, “Sisters? Does that work like that for you guys? Also, Komeha’e, if you have embarrassing stories about Cassidy, I’m all ears. I keep making a fool out of myself in front of her, so I really feel like something ought to restore the balance here.”

What?

It wasn’t really Lilian’s habit to play nice.

~***~

Inga would be lying if she said she didn’t know what she expected, mostly because expecting outcomes required actual brainpower. You had to think about all the pesky factors such as context, and probability, and all the other things that she was likely forgetting, and the reality of the matter was that none of it felt remotely achievable with Antonia in her arms.

Antonia, who wasn’t slapping her.

Antonia, who also wasn’t complaining.

Antonia, who, um, actually looked pretty comfortable in that position?

What.

Wow, a thought! A coherent one! If you lowered your standards for coherence somewhat, which Inga definitely deserved after… all that.

Whatever the fuck it was.

A friend thing, maybe? Inga didn’t really recall the atmosphere being Like That with any of her short-lived friendships, but it was also true you couldn’t call her an expert on friends, or relationships, or most things that couldn’t be described as ‘fucking shit up.’ Rather, this was fucking her up, and she had no idea what to do with that, aside from maybe dying on the spot.

Of course, it wasn’t like her body intended to cooperate.

Classic traitor behavior!

But Inga couldn’t say she resented it too much, now, with Antonia feeling so soft and nice and yielding, and— okay, not that yielding.

Somehow, that made it better. Better and worse, for all the right and wrong purposes, as Inga remembered just how far gone she was, as well as just how little it bothered her.

Could this end in anything but heartbreak?

Not really, with the new revelation in mind. Heartbreak, some tears, and many, many sleepless days, most of them probably spent on rewriting the inevitable conclusion to this exact moment, but… well, she’d known all along. She had, and hadn’t really dared to hope for even this small moment of intimacy.

So, uh, this was still winning? If you tweaked the rules here and there, and maybe squinted a bit, which Inga happened to be a pro at.

(But, in reality, even having a heart to break was good enough. That it felt like Antonia’s hand was all that held it together right now was beside the point.)

“Does it?” Her voice was barely louder than whisper, but it didn’t need to be more than that. Anything stronger likely would have broken the spell, much like moving would have, so she took care not to overdo it, and also didn’t let go. “I’d say it’s worth it, sometimes.” It wasn’t at all inconspicuous, the way her gaze landed on Antonia’s lips, and even if she didn’t say anything, what she was thinking must have been pretty obvious.

Wouldn’t it be nice to…?

No. No crossing lines.

With that, Inga did let go, and took a step back, as if that small distance could change anything. “Can’t say you aren’t right, though,” she smiled, “Some of my strategies might need a small adjustment.” Mainly survival strategies, because dammit, this totally was going to kill her, “Sooo, how about another round?”

 

[Lucyfer]

Komeha’e allowed a smile to twitch onto her lips as she watched Lilian wrap an arm around Cassidy, and heard her small bit of things. Apparently, the hunters weren’t forthcoming with all their members, which wasn’t a surprise. Vampires weren’t forthcoming with all of their clan, or their family, as Lilian just saw. Probably just like humans in general, though. Communication was always a struggle, and over the stupidest of things, too.

Not that Komeha’e was completely innocent.

“Yes,” Komeha’e agreed, as Cassidy nodded. “More or less, it’s a bit complicated when there are a couple hundred years between you and your siblings.” She chuckled, but had a fond smile, “As for embarrassing stories….”

“Oh god,” Cassidy groaned, knowing that Komeha’e had a few from their time in Salt Lake City. Some weren’t funny; her adjustments weren’t all hilarious, after all. Some of them were just…sad. Tragic.

Komeha’e likely knew enough not to take the mood down. Cassidy wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

“I had a front row seat to her first few years,” Komeha’e confided, “she grew up in Salt Lake City, where I was at the time, too. So I saw a few things – like her argument with good ol’ Strawberry.” Cassidy groaned, “He was a horse, ornery thing, and Cassidy didn’t realize she was talking to a horse because her powers had juuuust kicked in, so she was yelling for whoever was talking to her to come out, and Strawberry kept egging her on when he realized she didn’t know she was talking to a horse. He even started out by asking if she had an extra carrot, and she didn’t realize it was a horse asking for a carrot.”

“You all told me it would be predator animals!” Cassidy complained.

“We said it was only predator animals you could transform into,” Komeha’e chuckled. “Not that it was only predators you could talk to. That was even assuming you developed the same power,” it was possible she didn’t, there were differences at times, although as far as Komeha’e knew, Silvon had yet to produce a mutation through his bites. Others in the family had, though. “This wasn’t the last time she made a scene of talking to animals, though.”

“This is why I don’t do it much,” Cassidy grumbled, which wasn’t exactly a lie. She also just…stopped noticing it, because animals were everywhere and if she paid attention to it at all times, she’d go insane. The birds were especially annoying. Thankfully, that just started to sound like chirping and tweeting again when she wasn’t paying attention.

Maybe one day she’d be able to balance it better, but for her own sanity, she preferred it to sound like animal noises when she wasn’t thinking about it, or trying to communicate.

Komeha’e just patted her arm as they strode back into Caesar’s Palace. “How long have you two actually known each other, then?”

~***~

There were only two ways for the moment to go: Inga would see an invitation in it, or she would not. Antonia would not make the decision for her, somewhat intrigued with how Inga felt to see where it went. She wasn’t surprised when Inga separated, of course. In some ways, that was what she expected. Inga may be a nuisance, but she was not that kind of nuisance, and it was clear she would wait for a more…obvious invitation, which ought to give Antonia time to sort things out on her own.

How long that would take, not even Antonia could say.

Just as she couldn’t say what it was she liked.

Perhaps that was a part of it – not knowing if she liked Inga was as difficult as not being sure what made her happy any longer. That they went together was also, somehow, no surprise. At least there was sparring, though. That was a break from the mundanity of life and her many tasks and duties.

It was also a good preparation for the news that Felix eventually brought: the werewolf clan that had helped Kirana belonged to a clan Antonia would not have guessed, and it made her all the more furious for it. The Maechae, an old clan of werewolves – not that any were alive from the days Antonia first met them – who had also been charged with protecting the Bayons…not the Veturia.

It felt like a personal betrayal of sorts, even if times had changed significantly, last Antonia knew the Maechae were still dealing with the Bayons, not the Veturia. Things could have changed, though; she didn’t keep frequent tabs on them, which, apparently, needed to change. Thankfully, Felix knew where their leader resided, and so, on a new moon, when they’d be at their weakest, Antonia went to the ranch outside of town, hidden in trees, along with Inga and Felix…and several other of the Romulus clan, because if this came to a fight, Antonia would replace these bitches with the Romulus, and move more of the Romulus in before the Maechae could step in.

What was another genocide, really?

Admittedly, Felix wasn’t keen on it – but that’s why he was there, to talk them out of this madness in his own role.

Their cars were not denied entrance, although it was clear they were not exactly a welcome surprise.

Antonia hadn’t called ahead, nor had Felix.

“Remember, Inga,” Antonia said as she parked her car, “You’re not to admit to killing Kirana here. We do not know who killed Kirana, and it was a terrible tragedy. We are here to find out if allegiances have shifted, and to find out about the hunter blades.” And if allegiances hadn’t shifted, or if the ones helping Kirana were rogues…but that was unlikely. “Werewolf testimony can be allowed into our courts, and I do not need to give the Veturia any ammunition against either of us through those that may be their new pets.”

Although there would be plenty of implication.

Antonia was very good at that.

As the werewolves of Romulus began to get out and greet the Maechae with some obvious tension, Antonia also opened the door to August, and as she rose from her seat, touched the gem at her throat.

It was a focusing tool, one very necessary in situations like this where she had to let her influence only impact the Maechae. Not Inga. Not the Romulus. Keystone is what Giannis had called it, once upon a time, not that she had a particular one.

It was merely the action.

And so when she stepped around August with a smile on her lips, Maechae visibly seemed to grow smaller, seemed to step back, or avert their gazes, as the terror fell upon them – as if Antonia were a goddess come to life, stepping into their presence, as she stepped alongside Felix, almost spreading it to him by proximity – giving that reminder that he was no standard werewolf any longer.

He was Romulus Incarnate.

Neither were to be trifled with.

“Forgive me the sudden arrival,” Antonia bowed her head in apology, “the situation in town with the hunters has made much of my business last minute. May I come in to speak with Alphas Dia and Kasku?”

“Of course, Lady Lenart,” none would dare refuse her while the power pulsed out, promising immense harm if she were slighted in the bit, “Let me bring you in – ah, do you need room for everyone?”

“No, no, myself, Alpha Felix, Cassandra, and Inga,” she gestured, “the rest will wait out here.”

“I will alert the Alphas,” another said, although Antonia was fairly sure she saw Dia waiting nearer to the large home, and not at all happy about this. If it wasn’t Dia, it was definitely one of her Queenguard, from the size and stance on the outskirts.

 

[Syntra]

Admittedly, Lilian could have tried not to laugh. She could have bitten the inside of her cheek, or thought of dead kittens, or employed any of the million coping strategies that she very much hadn't gone for -- solely because doing so would have been stupid. You didn't fish for embarrassing stories to not laugh. What was next, going to a cinema to not watch the movie? Buying tickets to a concert and then plugging your ears? Yeah, miss her with that half-assed shit! "God," Lilian chuckled, "Even your fuck-ups are cute. How do you do that? My embarrassing stories are just... embarrassing. Like that one time I got caught spying on a fellow hunter because Eugene convinced me he was a half-vampire that infiltrated our ranks to destroy us from within."

Uh huh, a half-vampire. Dhampirs had been all the rage back then; likely the natural development of the shitty half-angel, half-demon fanfiction trope, fed by Twilight's success. Not that the young hunters had known, then. Instead, they had all eaten it up, because, duh, of course they had! It had been funny. Funny, though also... kind of believable? When you lived in the kind of reality where nightmares routinely were true. "In my defense, I was twelve, but..." Lilian sighed, "...I guess that didn't really excuse all the traps I installed in his room. Deana blew a gasket."

Then again, what had they been expecting? Like, hello! They'd been fucking twelve. Someone should have figured that teaching hormonal teenagers advanced killing techniques wasn't exactly peak responsibility, but, at this point, Lilian also knew that expecting common sense from a murderous cult likely wasn't going to result in anything but disappointment.

Sigh.

How come I didn't fucking see it sooner?

Well, lobsters also didn't notice it when they were being cooked alive. All you had to do was turn the heat up slowly enough, and... yeah. Not that Lilian liked comparing herself to a lobster, but the shoe fit so well she couldn't find a compelling enough argument to not do it.

But, hey, new information! "Wait, you can actually turn into an animal?" It... did make sense, Lilian supposed, but what she'd seen so far with Cass had been just partial shifts, and she hadn't really considered that there could be a next step. "Is that one of those things you ought to practice?" And don't, for whatever reason.

Maybe Cass just... didn't really care? Though that was sort of hard to imagine, because Lilian definitely would have embraced that shit. Cassidy wasn't her, though, and there could have been a million justifications as for why, exactly, she was avoiding it.

Practicing just could have been a pain.

Not wanting to resemble Silvon too much also could have played its role.

"A little over a month now?" Lilian shrugged. "Honestly, it feels longer," and it did, for many, many reasons. "With so many near death experiences, the timeline gets a little blurred." After all, relying on people did make you grow closer, and she'd been doing nothing but that with Cassidy since the moment they'd met.

Fuck. She really was her rock, wasn't she?

"Plus," Lilian smiled, "She's all too easy to get along with. When was the last time you guys saw each other? Am I interrupting some kinda catching up moment?"

The answer to that was probably yes, though it also wasn't like she could just... fuck off and go spend the money she didn't have in one of the local casinos instead. They still had their mission!

And, finally, it seemed that they were closer to untangling the mystery.

~***~

"You wound me, Antonia," Inga pouted. The expression likely should have looked innocent, and perhaps it also would have, had it been worn by literally anyone but her. As it was, it resembled a wicked caricature at best, "Me, killing anyone? Just because of all the people I killed in the past, and all the people I am planning to kill still? Tsk, tsk! Such a nasty bias." Of course that she hadn't so much as harmed a hair on Kirana's pretty little head, because that would have been nothing short of scandalous. And everyone knew that Inga Singedottir avoided scandals like the plague! That was what she was famous for!

No nutjob stuff to be seen on her CV, and especially not falling for her clan's biggest enemy.

Ha, ha, ha.

The fucking memes have gotten way out of hand. Perhaps they'd never been under control in the first place, but what Inga was referring to was the absolute barrage of messages in Tristan's groupchat. One would have thought that a bunch of immortals would have better things to do than discuss her love life and... what, write actual Inga/Antonia fanfiction? Like, with chapters and shit? And the 'oh no, there's only one bed' plot twist? Okay, no, Inga had never actually been under that impression, mostly because she, also, was immortal, and knew that boredom hit different when you'd been fighting it for centuries. That was par for the course.

The real problem was that memes spread, and that they spread fast. Faster than you'd want them to, for sure.

There was no way the Maechae didn't know. Everyone knew, and Inga knew that they knew, but they were all going to dance around the issue, because knowing something wasn't at all the same as having evidence.

That didn't have to be a bad thing, though. Inga didn't intend it to, if she had anything at all to say about it.

(After all, escaping her reputation had never once worked out for her. Embracing it, though? Oh, that was much, much better. That she'd torn her arms to shreds doing exactly that was beside the point.)

So, when she stepped out of Antonia's car, Inga gave the terrified crowd a cheerful smile, and waved. Absolutely nothing about it seemed remotely genuine, which was, of course, the entire point. "Hello, hello, friends! It's so awesome to see you, I could cry!" Someone probably would cry here, though Inga didn't really think it would be her. Just a hunch. "Not that I know any of you, but," a quick flash of her fangs, "Something tells me that's about to change real soon."

Inga, fucking with people? Pfft, never.

Well, maybe a little bit, when it was a) funny, b) useful. It usually happened to be some combination of both, and since Antonia likely had brought her here for the intimidation factor, she didn't really see any reason to hold back.

Not that 'holding back' was even in Inga's personal thesaurus to begin with.

Am I really that terrifying, though? Don't get her wrong, because Inga did know how people reacted to her presence, but that kinda response seemed a bit overblown. Eh, maybe I just leveled up!

And any level up would be very much appreciated, here, because it didn't seem like dealing with the Queen would be without its own problems.

Dia was a mountain of a woman, a little taller than even Inga herself. That she looked as if she very much didn't want to breathe the same air as them didn't make her any less intimidating, mostly because of the unspoken implication that she easily could make that reality happen... via snapping their throats. And that was without her shifting to her wolf form! Amazing.

Can I please, pleaaaase fight her?

The thought came and didn't quite go, though Inga also wasn't nearly stupid enough to actually fuck with Antonia's plans for some cheap thrills. Nah, not worth it. Not worth it, at all.

Kasku was present, as well, and he rose as they entered, though he didn't really say much, aside from grunting a greeting.

"Lady Lenart," Dia bowed, respectfully, "Alpha Felix," the respect was still there, even if perhaps slightly diminished, "And... Inga Singedottir?" Yeah, now it was gone. In fact, Dia looked at her as if she was nothing more than a cockroach to be squished, and the sentiment was so familiar that Inga couldn't help but grin.

Were those your pups I killed? A distinct possibility! The most spoiled children always picked the stupidest battles.

Dia gulped, visibly uncomfortable in her own skin, but also apparently hellbent on saying her piece. "Forgive me, Lady Lenart, but I have to question your... friend's presence." An emphasis on 'friend,' as if she didn't quite believe that that was what they were, "What is the reason behind her tagging along? We will always be happy to welcome you, as well as any wolves affiliated with your cause, but I don't see why an outsider should witness our inner dealings."

 

[Lucyfer]

Cassidy could only groan at having her fuck-ups called cute, but she wasn’t really upset. She couldn’t be, when it brought Lilian joy, and it really wasn’t that bad. Komeha’e hadn’t done her too dirty. Just dirty enough. Besides – Lilian gave them something, and Komeha’e laughed, though Cassidy asked, “Half-vampires aren’t a thing, right?” Sometimes, she wasn’t sure.

“No, no, not at all,” Komeha’e answered, “trust me, plenty of people have tried to make them a thing. They’re not.” Which was for the best, really, the last thing they needed was half-vampires wandering around, becoming hunters, or whatever else they’d end up becoming. “See? Even Cassidy wasn’t sure. You weren’t too stupid.” Komeha’e chuckled. “I think most of us end up wondering that at some point.”

Some, because they wanted children.

Others, because they absolutely did not and realized how unsafe they’d been with their proclivities.

As for the bit about animals, “I can’t turn into an animal yet,” Cassidy sighed, “I can do some partial transformations, but nothing really…beyond that. Shrinking is hard.”

“So become a bear,” Komeha’e shrugged, “easier than a cat.”

Cassidy sighed. “You say this like any of it is easy.” Of course, being on her own and not looking for help was a part of why it was probably hard. Manipulating her body into monstrous forms was somehow easy, transforming it into a lifeform she knew really existed, was not. Then again, maybe she could get some tips from Felix or the werewolves…that seemed like a distinct possibility.

“No, I say it because it’s easier,” she said, “you still have to put in the work to do it.” And she then nodded at Lilian, “Thought it had to be a little early,” not that it was a bad thing to be young and in love. “And don’t worry, this wasn’t, ah…well it wasn’t planned, so can’t really call it interrupting since I’m interrupting your thing.”

“We should catch up more.”

“Let me know when you get out of the war zone. Or come swing by New Orleans someday.”

“Maybe we will, after all of this,” Cassidy said, glancing to Lilian, “Do you want to go see New Orleans? Maybe not on Spring Break, though,” that would be…chaotic. Also not the New Orleans she really wanted to see, where drunk college students cavorted and reveled. She’d rather it be a little more peaceful than that.

“That’s the best time,” Cassidy really couldn’t tell if Komeha’e was kidding or not as they reached her room, and she opened the door to let them, calling out, “Pete? Pete you’re free, but my friends have a few questions for you.”

Yeah…that was going to go over well with Pete.

~***~

That Dia was uncomfortable was to be expected. Antonia did turn down the pressure, but she did not turn it off. She needed Kasku and Dia to be able to speak, but she didn’t need, or want, them to be rude. She wasn’t up for that right now.

That Dia also had issues with Inga being there wasn’t a surprise, either. Inga wasn’t an Optimate, and by all rights, had no purpose there. “Inga is a new bodyguard, Alpha Dia. With times as they are, I felt it necessary to invest in vampiric protection as well as werewolf. You will have to forgive her, she is a bit of a whelp where diplomacy is concerned. I cannot say if it will ever rub off on her, but rest assured if she becomes too much of a problem, she can go join the rest of Felix’s pack.”

Felix gave a grim nod to agree with that. His pack would actually enjoy that, they took to Inga easily enough. Given she acted significantly younger than Antonia and enjoyed more of the things they did, it made it a little easier.

That she was still a potential threat to Antonia was probably lost on a few of them.

Cassandra wasn’t put out not to be greeted, and would, of course, make no remark on it. She wasn’t an official Alpha, despite being the one Antonia left things to when Felix was unavailable; that didn’t go far in the werewolf world. Antonia didn’t pick Felix, she was just stuck with him.

Thankfully, they got on swimmingly.

“I am here to offer my condolences regarding the losses you have faced, and also to inquire on the matter of the weaponry that was discovered with them, as well as who they happened to be protecting.” None of it should have been discovered, given the fire, but the fire hadn’t gone quite as planned, and not enough was burned. Enough to make sure Inga was more or less cleared of guilt, but little else.

Antonia wouldn’t wait to be officially given a seat. She took one, while Felix remained standing, though he moved now to stand behind the chair as Antonia gestured for the others to sit, calm as ever. Cassandra would sit. “You are aware by now that hunter’s blades were found with them. It’s nothing forbidden,” she added with a reassuring tone, “but it brings up concerns all the same as to how they acquired them, and whether or not your entire pack, or a few rogues, have dealings with Michael Serafis that I was not made aware of?”

Perhaps it also wasn’t illegal, back then, to work with Michael Serafis. In fact, it wasn’t illegal even now for the werewolves to work with them. Wolves and vampires did have different societies, and different rules…but they were usually fairly aware of what it meant to align with a group of hunters the other party was at war with.

Few would want to court that kind of danger openly.

“I am hoping you can shed light on this.”

For his part, Kasku remained quiet, thoughtful. He would speak, of course, but he knew his place next to Dia, and would not dare to speak over her, unless Antonia addressed him directly…and even then, with hesitance.

 

[Syntra]

“Thank god,” Lilian muttered, “Angsty half-breeds with constant identity crises are about the last thing we need.” Angsty teenagers had been bad enough; looking at it back now, she wasn’t quite sure how they hadn’t razed the HQ to the ground growing up, between all the fighting, pent-up hormones, and, well… various traumas. That, also, was a thing. “And the list of stuff we don’t need is way too fucking long already.”

It seemed like some otherworldly entity had gotten a hold of the list, too, and was now systematically adding every single item from it into Lilian’s life. Judging by her luck so far, half-vamps were going to spring into existence by, hm, next month?

Make that next week.

But, now wasn’t really the time to worry about how fate was going to deliver another inevitable punch. In truth, it never was; worrying about those things had never once improved anything, mostly because it didn’t help you prepare for it, anyway. Ever the pragmatist, Lilian often… preferred the blissful ignorance, instead. “Shrinking, of all things?” she raised her eyebrow. “Weird, I figured making yourself bigger would be the problem. You know, since the body mass is already there?” And it was easier to get rid of excess body mass than it was to generate it, although… yeah, that didn’t sound pleasant, either. The thing that immediately came to mind was cutting things off, which obviously wouldn’t work for Cassidy’s purposes.

Better not follow that line of logic.

A little early, though? It wasn’t at all early. Not judging by Lilian’s usual standards, and while those may have been a little trainwreck-y, they hadn’t failed her yet!

…Okay, fine. They had done nothing but fail, time and time again, but you didn’t tend to be too concerned with such things when death was waiting just around the corner. Having some fun beat not having it, and carpe diem, right? I don’t want this to be the next episode of that, though. The realization wasn’t really a realization, per se, mostly because Lilian had known all along. She had never wanted her love life to turn into that kind of mess, either, but what she had or hadn’t been able to do had been dictated by opportunities, as well as the lack of them.

Much like everything else.

Fucking depressing, wasn’t it?

“Well,” Lilian shrugged, trying to keep things light, “Not all of us have a few centuries to figure out what they like.” Which… maybe wasn’t the best idea, because this, again, highlighted the main problem. The Twilight dilemma, as she liked to call it. But, hey! Given that she was likely to die long before the whole ‘dying of old age’ thing became relevant, this probably didn’t matter anyway.

Also, on a scale from one to ten, how dysfunctional was it to imagine that kind of future with someone you’d known for a month? Asking for a friend!

“New Orleans sounds great, though,” she changed the topic, “Not sure I wanna deal with drunk college kids, but otherwise yeah, bring it on.”

Pete, as it turned out, was an older cat; one that was missing both an eye, and any semblance of chill.

“Thank god!” he wailed. “You have no idea how much I’ve suffered. This… this woman,” somehow, it sounded like an insult, “Made me bathe. Me. Can you imagine? As if my tongue didn’t do a way better job than any of those accursed instruments! This is nothing short of barbarism.” Pete, also, clearly had Opinions, “Also, who the hell are you? I suppose we are friends if you came to free me, but…”

~***~

“Yeah,” Inga gave an easy smile, as if the heaviness of the atmosphere didn’t at all register to her. Maybe it really didn’t, although those who knew her a little better than poor Dia did could notice the hint of something deliberate in her eyes. Deliberate, and definitely not nice. “That’s me, your friendly next-door nutjob. I’m pretty much only good for killing. Blood, steel, terror – you name it, I provide it! Three for the price of one!” Without really waiting for any instructions, she sat down next to Antonia, “All this to say, you should probably just ignore me, Dee-Dee. If you taky any of my words seriously, you really only have yourself to blame.”

Which, by the way, was true. Inga had never once claimed that her ramblings had an ounce of meaning to them! It was everyone else’s fault for assuming things and thinking that a conversation with her would go down the same route conversations with other people tended to go, which was hippie shit like Mount Understanding or Plains of Compromise.

And yes, why few tended to like her was a mystery. What do you mean, ‘stop shitting on social scripts?’

Besides, this was working as intended.

It wasn’t a good cop, bad cop routine, per se. More than that, it was Inga brandishing her sword while Antonia readied a dagger in the background, ever elegant before the deadly strike. Nothing like a quality decoy, eh?

Dia looked like she didn’t quite not how to respond, which, in itself, wasn’t an unusual response to Inga’s antics. She also looked like she wanted to strangle her at the spot, though whether that was caused by Inga being Inga, or by her role in the deaths of her maybe-children, was debatable. Both. Both seem likely.

“I see,” Dia said, because there really wasn’t any other way for her to react. It wasn’t like she could protest Antonia’s choice of a bodyguard; not in a way that mattered, anyway. Pointing out that she was still officially a Veturia also wouldn’t do her any good, so: “At least she seems self-aware enough. Always a good trait in a subordinate.” Nope, the poison dripping from her words definitely wasn’t something she was just imagining. Inga’s radar for these things was very, very good, and the values were off the fucking charts here.

Great!

The questions that followed didn’t surprise Dia, but they also didn’t please her. You could see as much without even trying; likely, she wasn’t the type to play these games, and so also didn’t know how to do it. Inga guessed she preferred letting her claws speak, instead. “Thank you for your kind words,” which would have been much kinder without the fucking murderess present, “As for the weapons, it is not at all like that. We’ve received the daggers from the Bayons, and well before Serafis even came to power, so while I am not certain of their origins, I can say that he wasn’t involved.”

Dia, also, sat down, and folded her arms, “If I had to guess, they belonged to past hunters. Good things to have, Lixin said, in case we have to deal with an enemy clan.”

Of course, that wasn’t the most pressing issue. It was perhaps the least pressing of her issues, given the circumstances; it really wasn’t a crime to own such a thing, suspicious though it may have been.

Protecting one of the Veturia was, though. Maybe not in the courts, but who the fuck cared about those when Antonia Lenart was the judge?

It couldn’t be denied. The corpses spoke for themselves, and Dia knew that. What she also knew was that telling the truth would only bring ruin to her clan, which didn’t fucking help when there were no useful alternatives. Did she really have to disgrace their dead…? Damn you, Lixin.

“You know who they were protecting,” she finally replied. “That is why you are here. And as for what their reasons were, I cannot say. We’ve launched an investigation already.”

There it was! Their fallen, exchanged for their living.

Dia felt bile rise in her throat.

Inga, meanwhile, couldn’t help but burst out in laughter: “So what, you just have no idea what’s going on in your own clan? Man, and I thought I was a mess!”

 

[Lucyfer]

‘I hate to tell you that you probably needed to be bathed.’ Cassidy just exchanged a brief look with Komeha’e, who understood every word and was obviously rolling her eyes. The cat looked fleabitten even after being cleaned up. His fur would likely never be pure white again for as long as he lived. Cassidy, of course, would not tell the cat these things.
The cat was probably fine with dealing with fleas, just like the one who sent them here, because it was better than being neutered.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer so much, Pete,” Cassidy said, as Komeha’e just continued on to the minifridge to take a drink from it, because this was still just a casual thing for her, never mind the hunter who was still getting used to this.

“I’m Cassidy, this is my girlfriend, Lilian,” she liked saying that, didn’t she? Yes, yes she did, “We were told you were looking into a gem and what happened with it for Silvon. We’re trying to follow up on that, if you can tell us where it’s gone?”

Maybe if she didn’t mention the McDonald’s thing, she wouldn’t have to deal with it and the cat could keep working on that on its own?

“Ah, right,” Komeha’e suddenly sighed, “I probably shouldn’t be here for any of that,” she didn’t want to get more wrapped up in it than she already was. “Let me get out of your hair,” she shoved the bag of blood back into the minifridge, and walked to the door, “Just let me know when you’re on your way out, okay?”

Cassidy nodded, “Mm, we will.” hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard to find her in the casino, or she wouldn’t go too far.

With Komeha’e gone, Cassidy turned her attention back to Pete. “Sorry about that, but do you know what I’m talking about?”

~***~

Older daggers was a possibility, although not a likely one. Antonia had already had the daggers reviewed, but she believed Dia might not know the origins. That they came from Lixin was another matter entirely, and in truth, she believed that. Lixin Wang, head of the Bayons, was an eccentric, and collected odd things. He also had enemies, though perhaps not half as many as Antonia. He was an elder, though. Want to or not, they collected enemies.

Vampires held grudges.

She’d touch base on that matter with Lixin, later. That his name had been dropped at all was reason enough, besides the fact he was the obvious one to question next about this. That she didn’t want to had nothing to do with any dislike towards him, just his…mannerisms, at times. He could be worse than Amon when he wanted to be, and forcing him to stick to the point was difficult at the best of times.

What Dia failed to consider was that in offering up ancient artifacts to these whelps, she should have also kept a very firm grasp of what was going on.

She was at least quite aware that Antonia was there because of the Veturia.

“I admit, it is strange that the Maechae chose to work with the Veturia. I understand in times like these, we do have to protect all those we can from the hunters, and agreements can be made. It sounds like you are still honoring the agreement with Lixin,” he gave them daggers, after all.

“Which honestly makes me all the more disappointed you think I’m stupid enough to believe you didn’t know where those daggers were at all times if they were a gift for protection, and think I am going to believe these daggers weren’t in authorized use.” She said flatly, “Notably, not in the hands of wolves you entrusted to protect Bayon vampires.” She wouldn’t get on Inga’s case for laughing over that lack of control.

It would have been funny, if it were true. It also would have been evidence against Dia as Alpha, but none were challenging her. Kasku held his tongue.

Antonia did wonder what would happen if she demanded he speak, but for now, she wouldn’t cross that line.

“If you want to shift loyalties to the Veturia, you are free to do so,” and pay with their lives, “you are even free to work with multiple clans and hire yourself out as mercenaries, but I doubt Lixin would be pleased to hear that weapons entrusted for the protection of his clan are not, in fact, being used in such a way.”

That wasn’t a question, and yet, “Or am I wrong, Dia?” Because a wolf was loyal, and thrown under the car, Felix would also lie his fucking ass off to protect her.

It was a consideration that came as the words twisted off her tongue, that worst-case scenario thought which was never that far from her mind. That it even took those few seconds of conversation to truly start to be a consideration was a small miracle.

Not that Antonia wanted to believe it. Or hope for it.

But she couldn’t deny the possibility. It was always there, ever since the massacre.

 

[Syntra]

"Hmpf," Pete scoffed, "At least some of you know how to talk to your betters. The one from before," it was hard to tell if he'd never learned Komeha'e's name, or if he thought she just didn't deserve the honor of being addressed by it, "Kept spouting some nonsense propaganda about fleas, and water, and the two not liking one another? I have never known water to like anything. Or fleas, for that matter! Let me tell ya, fleas don't have souls. Kinda like dogs, those are basically just... walking inferiority complexes."

No, nobody respected dogs around here, but why should they if dogs couldn't even respect themselves? Any creatures willing to sell their dignity for some ear scratches and a few half-hearted 'good boy's were rather suspect, in Pete's book.

(Admittedly, the teeth also had something to do with the distrust. The teeth, the size, and the inability to understand that no fucking meant no, dammit!)

"Is it just me, or are all cats angry 100% of the time?" Lilian tilted her head aside. "If I really had to guess, I'd say this one is in the middle of giving one of those cheesy pre-war speeches about his forces totally annihilating the enemy."

"Sounds rich coming from her," Pete pouted. "You could build a supercomputer from all the chips on her shoulder." How he knew what a supercomputer even was would would likely remain a mystery, though one that was fairly tame for the usual Vegas standards. Between the random pyramids, haunted houses and desecrated burial sites, it certainly wasn't eyebrow-raising, "But I digress. The gem, you ask?"

Pete jumped on Komeha'e's couch, likely enjoying the fact that he was fucking it up a little too much. To drive the point home, he dug the claws in deeper, "Duh, of course I know about it. What kind of amateur do you take me for? The group that bought it..." A dramatic pause, because there was no context in which dramatic pauses didn't make literally everything better, "...Are someone you should be pretty familiar with. Hunters, ya know? And since they smelled a lot like your little girlfriend over here, I'm guessing something's up."

Oh, if only he knew!

~***~

Couldn't have come up with a stupider excuse, huh? Because that really would have been nothing short of epic! Inga was almost willing to believe that this was all part of some ill-advised bet; an attempt to ruffle Princess's feathers for a bit, maybe, to see just how much she could take before the inevitable explosion, and what, exactly, they could get away with.

The answers to those questions were 'not much,' and 'nothing,' respectively. You didn't fuck with Antonia Lenart unless you fantasized about being strangled with your own entrails, which was, by the way, perhaps the only case when that might not happen.

After all, it wasn't Antonia's style to just give you what you wanted. As someone who had literally asked to be killed by her before, and gotten saved instead, Inga certainly did know a thing or two about that.

(It was maybe the worst thing she'd done to her. The worst, and also the best. Funny how the two often went hand in hand, when it came to Antonia specifically.)

Dia, too, seemed to realize the extent of her oversight, if the sudden tension in her shoulders implied anything at all. "I..." And, yeah, there it was! The stuttering, the inability to finish a sentence, the almost palpable need to shrink, as if that could possibly save her from the clusterfuck she'd gotten herself into.

All tell-tale symptoms of lying!

Hmm. What was it that you did with liars, again? Ah, yeah! You fucked them up. You fucked them up so much that they offered the truth on a silver fucking platter, sprinkled with apologies and requests to please, please kill them already.

Therefore: "Ooo, resistance!" Inga clasped her hands, way more delighted than anyone in her position had any right to be, "How very charming. Can we skip to the part where you tell us what's going on, or do I have to torture someone first? It's not my biggest hobby," and it really wasn't, mainly because pain for the sake of pain was just so uninspired, "But I think I do have it in me to provide a fun experience still. Any volunteers?"

Needless to say, nobody raised their hand. Always disappointing, though not really a plot twist! That the silence stretched on also wasn't much of a surprise, though that Kasku of all people broke it certainly was.

"You are wrong, Lady Lenart."

"Kasku!"

If looks could kill, the poor man would likely be lying on the floor by now, but since they very much couldn't, Kasku got to enjoy his continued existence for a little longer.

"Not now, Dia," he shook his head. "I won't condone this madness," and see you killed for it. That part he hadn't voiced, though he didn't really have to; why he disapproved was obvious, and even Inga, the resident expert on missing such nuances, could see as much plainly. She could also guess what the act translated to, despite not really understanding the werewolf pack dynamics all that well.

He'd just betrayed them. Coughed up the secrets that very much should have stayed secret, and, in doing so, doubtlessly painted a big target on his back. Why? So that Dia didn't have to?

Moving!

Too bad they'd chosen the wrong fucking side.

"All that we've done has been done on Master Lixin's behalf," Kasku continued. "I won't deny this. I also won't deny that nobody thought it would go this far, but what I will say is that we've broken no treaty."

No official treaty, anyway.

 

[Lucyfer]

At least Pete was a little less insulting. Well, in Cassidy’s mind, as she fought against a grin at Lilian’s commentary of angry cats, and Pete’s retort that she couldn’t understand. No, she would not be translating that over immediately, because it was completely irrelevant, but it did showcase that weird talent cat had for recognizing things in other people, better than dogs did.

Dogs really were kind of…well…dumb. She hadn’t known one with an inferiority complex, though. They were just so eager to please. Maybe that’s where the cat got that idea? She could see how it worked, even if she didn’t consider them all that dumb just for enjoying life more than cats did.

Usually.

Pete was, at any rate, willing to talk about the gem, and the cult which of course, was related to the hunters. “We’re not from the Vegas area,” Cassidy noted, “so we don’t know these particular hunters, but if they are related to how Lilian smells,” she said that, so Lilian would be in the loop on what was being said. On what kind of hunters they were looking for, “then she can probably talk to them and get what we need, if you can show us the way.” That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

With dramatic cats, probably, so she’d need to sweeten the deal a little bit. “I’ll buy you some tuna if you can help us at least that far,” that was a good enough bribe for a cat, right? “Or something else, if tuna isn’t one of your favorites.” She heard of cats that didn’t like tuna, but she had yet to meet one that was so picky.

It would be her luck if Pete was that picky.

Or demanded McDonald’s assistance.

~***~

Antonia was wrong.

In saying her assumption aloud, she had all but readied herself for that. It could be a lie, of course. They could be trying to save their own hides by throwing the blame on Wang Lixin, and though werewolves had a reputation as loyal to a fault, like any dog, it was one well-earned.

Did that mean Antonia fully trusted Kasku?

No. Even with Dia’s reaction, there was doubt, but not enough of it to truly buy into it. Antonia was a skeptic, but when it came to betrayals, she was almost too eager to believe it, because it fit the narrative of her life. That the Bayons would betray the Optimates was almost inevitable.

That said, it did not lessen that black fury.

Antonia was cognizant enough to touch the keystone and shut down her talent before it exploded on everyone in the vicinity. The withdrawal of it was an obvious surprise to Kasku, who likely didn’t expect all that terror and awe to fade with the revelation; no doubt, quite the opposite was expected. ‘If only they knew.’ But like any good elder vampire, Antonia kept her secrets.

“I see.” Antonia crossed one leg over the other. “You understand, of course, that just saying this won’t be enough. I will need to know what Lord Wang asked of you,” the formality was her natural retreat when someone upset her. Lixin would not be Lixin again for a very long time, if he survived being ashes. Already, she was mapping out the call to Amon, and how long it would take to get to his house. It would have to be that night; she couldn’t allow him to be tipped off and have too much warning.

Of course, he would be tipped off.

“What else is there to say? He ordered us to protect some individuals in the Veturia who were…likely targets by vampires.” He was smart enough not to name the vampires, nor the reasons, even if it was glaringly obvious. “It is no crime to protect other vampires, you have said as much yourself.” Perhaps it was a reminder that she was also walking a very thin line.

One that meant she couldn’t really lash out at them.

“Anything else you need to ask, if it concerns this business, you should direct to him.” Kasku said.

Because really…what else was there to say, that wouldn’t cross all the lines of innocence? Antonia recognized that. “I will, I assure you,” Antonia smiled, “I only want to make sure I understand, because when I speak to him of these changes, he may choose to be obtuse, which could make things difficult for you, if he chooses to claim he wasn’t aware, and this is a betrayal.”

Yes, that was the angle to play. “If nothing else, I hope that I have a history of being impartial in mediations between werewolves and vampires. I do not want to pick favorites simply because the Bayons have known us for years, if they are going to do you the disservice of lying and throwing you under the bus, so to speak. If you have evidence of his wishes so he cannot back down from them, it would be an immense assistance.”

To them, more than anything. It would ensure her wrath did not, in fact, fall upon them.

 

[Syntra]

They… smell like me? Of all the things that didn’t surprise Lilian, this had to be the one that surprised her the least. Of course it was them. Of fucking course! Who else? It could have been something like The National Weird Shit Museum Association, but that would have been too good, and good things were obviously off limits when you happened to be Lilian Perry.

(Well, with the exception of Cassidy.)

“Great news,” the huntress sighed, “And something tells me they didn’t buy it to do the reasonable thing.” And sure, describing deicide as the ‘reasonable thing’ may have been something of a stretch in most people’s minds, but when the alternative was… what, making it even more powerful? Unlocking some kinda invincibility mode for the thing so that it could take over? Then yes, murder, could actually be described as peak sanity. And, like, it wasn’t even murder per se! Because the law had been written by people, and so only people qualified for possibly being murdered. Instead, this was kind of like… like squishing a mosquito, except this particular mosquito could also give you weird superpowers or turn you into a zombie, or possibly tear the fabric of the universe apart, if the god rumors weren’t exaggerated.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t like squishing a mosquito. More than that it was like… disabling an enemy superpower’s nuclear arsenal?

Or maybe she should just beat it with the lame-ass metaphors and go kick their teeth in, instead.

“Fiiiine,” Pete sighed, “Tuna is an acceptable enough offering, and I guess I do owe you my freedom. Let us go, before the dreadful woman changes her mind.”

Lilian, at least, was able to grasp that they were leaving, “See you… at some point, Komeha’e!” Hopefully. Getting to know Cass’s family a little better could be nice, and not just because that was what you did with your girlfriends, but also because she didn’t really have one. So, it could be nice to have people that you… felt close to, for reasons other than that you’d grown up in a murderous cult together.

What do you mean, ‘fucked-up standards?’ Lilian’s standards were… okay, okay, they weren’t fine.

“I don’t think that the gem of yours is in Vegas anymore,” Pete pointed out, “Pretty sure they sent it somewhere, and it would have been easier to figure out where it is if they didn’t insist on writing so much. Writing, pfft. Why are you so obsessed with painting nonsense on paper?” With the implicit translation, of course, being something along the lines of ‘I can’t read, actually.’ “If you could just piss on things, it would be much more convenient.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Lilian raised her eyebrow, “Is he leading us to one of the hunter bars?” It seemed that way, given the general vibe of the district. ‘Night life’ seemed to be the theme, even moreso than it was everywhere else; the loud music and random drunks wandering the streets and kinda spoke for themselves. “Since those are full of hunters.” Fucking duh! Obviously, they… needed some kinda plan. “You think they have inter-states wanted posters for rogue hunters, or...?”

~***~

Antonia didn’t really seem upset. That alone told Inga that she was actually super upset, and likely planning a genocide or two, because that was Antonia Lenart’s go-to solution to most issues. No people, no problems! Better their funeral than hers! Not like siding with the Veturia in the year of our Lord 2022 isn’t a Darwin award-winning move, anyway. What were the Bayons thinking? Inga supposed she could see the rationale for such a thing in the past; back when the Veturia been both powerful and terrible, instead of just terrible, many fence-sitters had figured it was safer to be on their good side rather than join the long, long list of their enemies. Ya know, because friends didn’t generally get backstabbed? And so it was… uh, good to be friends with the people mostly famous for murdering their friends?

It wasn’t that weird, all things considered. A rabbit that was about to be eaten by a snake did not want to see it, and cognitive dissonance was cheaper than most drugs.

So yeah, the reasons were stupid, but at least they were something. You could kinda sorta understand them, if you squinted a bit and imagined a sunshine-y AU where the Veturia were pretty much anything other than themselves. Small, independent-ish clans fell for the scam easily enough. The Bayons, though? Why had they jumped the ship? As a certified political ignoramus, Inga didn’t really know that much about them, aside from the fact that they were a) old, b) into really weird shit, c) good friends of the Optimates, all of which should have protected them from such a poor decision making.

Apparently it hadn’t, though. It hadn’t, and now they were going to pay.

Yay for more inevitable bloodshed!

Dia, meanwhile, didn’t quite know where to look. Yes, even she could see that denying things further would be pointless, but that didn’t mean any of this pleased her, or that she wouldn’t rather vanish into thin air. Unfortunately, the werewolves’ repertoire didn’t contain such a power, therefore: “The nature of our cooperation has been well-documented, yes.” After all, she did have a responsibility towards her pack. If Lixin indeed chose to throw them under the bus, then what did any of this matter? There would be… consequences, both for Kasku and her, though she wasn’t blind to the fact that denying Antonia here would only lead to a different kind of consequences. Ones that would be… much more immediate, and much bloodier as well. “I do not believe he’d resort to such a thing, but by all means, you may have it if that’s what you require.”

And with that, it was time to go kick a traitor’s ass.

“Wang Lixin,” Inga repeated, once they stepped in the car, “Interesting. Are the suicidal tendencies new, or has he always been like that?” And like, not judging! But he definitely could have chosen a more entertaining way to do it, such as… hmm, walking up to Isolde and telling her that she did not, in fact, own the world. Or walking up to Tristan and talking shit about Starcraft. Or walking up to her and talking shit about—

Oh, wow. Those who thought that Antonia’s or Amon’s manse were extravagant would likely faint at the sight of Lixin’s place, because it… didn’t even look real? Not in the way that most buildings looked real, with their nice, regular angles and common-sense architectural decisions. Even mentioning words like ‘common’ or ‘sense’ seemed strange in the presence of the house, which honestly struck her as something that might launch itself into the stratosphere if you pressed the right button.

“Is this what happens when you base your personality on being a Stargate fan?” Inga tilted her head aside, “I could swear I’ve seen something like this in the episode about—”

“This is what happens when you have taste, Miss,” a short, Asian man standing in front of it offered her a wide smile. He didn’t look like a walking corpse, nor like someone who was guilty, even if Inga knew him to be both of those things. The question was, did he know? Because it didn’t seem that way, “Though I have to say, it’s great to see a woman of culture. Indeed, my mansion was inspired by Stargate – either that, or the futility of existence. Both, maybe? I never really seem to remember which nowadays. But, Antony!” the smile widened still, “As radiant as ever. To what do I owe the honor?”

 

[Lucyfer]

Of course it wasn’t still in Vegas. Why would that happen? Cassidy wondered if Antonia would be willing to buy them another plane ticket without an actual check-in, or if they’d have to take a pitstop back in the warzone first to brief their monetary benefactor on what had happened out here. Which was turning out to be ‘not much’ with a side of ‘maybe starting a fight’.

“Honestly, we write to protect information, Pete.” Not necessarily from spies, but some did that as well when speaking would have been difficult, or when they used encryptions or ciphers. In either case, it worked out in protecting them from animals being able to understand, something she doubted the hunters were actively protecting against. For Lilian’s sake, she added, “He doesn’t think the gem is here any longer.”

What Lilian noticed before she did, was the area they were moving into. Of course, she had substantially more experience in picking these out, so Cassidy stopped, “Hey, Pete…I can’t…quite go into the place you’re taking us to, so if you can just lead us close and point it out, that’d be good.”

Just keep walking.

Just act natural.

Then figure out a plan to get Lilian in the door.

She looked back at Lilian as they kept watching. “I doubt that…but they can probably text pictures, Lils.” So it might not be safe. She hadn’t thought of that. “Still…we can hope for human ignorance and disregarding mass messages? I think a lot of people do that,” human or vampire, right? “We’ve got to try and figure out where it is. Name drop Michael and try?” It was worth a shot, at least, right? “He is some sort of head honcho over everyone, right?”

Or was he just one of many, many leaders, and there was someone behind him, closer to God? That didn’t seem likely, given his presence in the town with their god. So that had to mean something for his position in the organization, and it wasn’t ‘bottom-rung shit scooper’.

“I can uh…go get the cat tuna and meet you nearby? I’ll have my cell if you need me,” of course, unless Lilian really wanted to try some tactic that involved barging in with Cassidy, but she didn’t think that was going to work out too well.

~***~

The documents were paper, because that was simply who Wang Lixin was. Antonia took a photo of each document, and kept one to bring with her, the most damning of them, before she gave the others to Felix for safe keeping. He would not accompany her to Lixin’s home. She sent a text to Amon with all the pictures as she loaded herself into her car, and continued to fight against that urge to explode.

‘Just a little longer.’

Inga did not make it easier. Inga may as well have been that ‘aren’t you tired of being nice?’ voice from some meme she’d seen once upon a time. Someone told her it was from a comic about Persephone, and she might like it – but she paid them no mind at the time. Not that she was a purist about the ancient gods. The Romans and Greeks weren’t even purists in what was real, what wasn’t. After all, some stories made Zeus Persephone’s father!

‘Stop thinking of old things.’

How easily it happened. “Some would say he has such tendencies, because he’s always lacked common sense – but so does Amon.” The pair of them had given her more headaches than anyone or anything else in the world, including all the headaches from crying. They were both menaces to society and decency, and it was a damn shame that Lixin’s common sense finally hit rock bottom.

Lixin’s home was somehow less eccentric than the man, but Antonia was hardly awed by it. The style was so far removed from anything she liked, that it just jarred with every sensible taste she had. It was not, in fact, good tastes, in her not at all humble opinion. Lixin was out of his house shortly after her car pulled up, a fact that annoyed her. Someone warned him, despite his demeanor. He wouldn’t be out of his house that fast.

Or maybe it was mere coincidence. Passing by the door, noticing an arrival – or more likely, he had cameras near the entrance that tipped him off to movement. Someone like him ought to be so paranoid.

Antonia smiled in return at his greeting, imagining how lovely it would be to walk forward, grab his neck, and put him against one of the things that passed for a wall and remind him that ‘Antony’ was not only a loving refrain but a warning. “This Miss is Inga Singedottir.” Not that ‘Miss’ was ever a term she would have used for Inga.

The smile remained as she approached, “Come now, have we not known each other long enough to drop this honor nonsense? Can I not just pay a visit after a long and tedious day of running down hunters and dealing with an immobile council you avoid like a plague?” A tease, but a truth, Wang Lixin could be terribly diplomatic and charming, and he’d involved himself in these things before, but he was scarce now. “Not that I blame you.”

For numerous reasons.

“But I suppose it wouldn’t be fair to say that visiting an old friend is entirely my reason for being here. I actually have something to show you,” she touched his arm a moment, before drawing her hand back and reaching into her small purse to take out that fatal letter, purse hanging by the similarly fatal sword.

Oh sure, hunters were a good reason to keep one on her person, but Lixin knew her well enough that she preferred to have it near not on her person, unless the situation was such that it was going to call for it.

Although the challenge of putting her hand through Lixin’s chest and pulling out his beating heart was tempting all the same.

Antonia opened the letter with an easy flourish of her wrist, “You see, Lixin, I’ve begun to grow concerned that a grasp of language has fled your understanding, because what I’m reading here simply can’t be true, can it?” she’d even let him take it. It didn’t matter if he burnt it, or tore it to pieces, and he’d know that.

It was funny how the smile was still there as she added, “The only reason you are not dead where you stand is Amon’s heart isn’t fully broken yet, but he will be here soon so it’s shattering can be the last thing you ever know.”

There was no need to call on her unnatural power with that promise.

 

[Syntra]

So, essentially, you want me to… barge in and ask?

It wasn’t a good plan. It was barely a plan at all, because there was no version of reality in which you could leave everything up to luck, hope for the best, and then pretend you could control things remotely more than you could a fucking coin toss. So, yeah! Lilian could see from a mile away just how bad of an idea it really was, and all the ways in which it could go amazingly, spectacularly wrong. Likely, more of them would occur at the same time, since the universe was always all too eager to fill out the Disaster Bingo. And the really sad thing about this? That it was still the best approach to take, here.

When you had to jump from a skyscraper, and the only real choice was between aiming for the concrete below or the lake on the other side, you just… went for the lake. Which, yeah, that likely still cost you the legs! But not ending up a bloody splatter on the pavement was always worth it, in the end.

Good thing I found a way to be optimistic about this.

“I guess this is the action I wanted,” Lilian joked. “Too bad my powers aren’t a bit more Terminator-aligned. Or Men In Black-aligned.” Tampering with everyone’s memory would have been real fucking convenient, but of course that they couldn’t have that. The list of things that she actually could have was significantly gimped, because yeah, not like it was reasonable to ask her vampire girlfriend to go meet a bunch of people that wanted to kill her, on the off-chance they might be feeling that sweet, sweet redemption tonight.

More like that sweet, sweet corruption.

From their point of view, anyway.

Fuck their point of view.

“Not sure how much I like mentioning Michael,” Wouldn’t that only bring attention to him? And, by extension, to the rogue hunter case? “But it might be our best chance. Okay, I’ll just… wing it. What’s the worst-case scenario, painful death? That’s just like, Tuesday, for me.” Real fucking reassuring! But, hey, at least she’d have some remote emotional support at her disposal, which… actually could make a difference. Maybe? Desperate times, desperate measures!

“Listen, Cass,” Lilian put her hands on her shoulders, “The main issue is the hunters being there, right? This is the bar’s phone number,” thank god for the 21st century and literally every pub having a website, nowadays, “If I ring you and then hang up, call them and tell them there’s a bomb. Make up some bullshit excuse about… I don’t know, a coordinated vamp attack? Mention code 8989, that one’s for emergencies.”

Hunters or not, people generally didn’t like to hang around when a bomb could go off at any moment, and the code should make her sound credible enough. Like a fellow hunter.

Was it a bullshit idea? Perhaps, but it was her bullshit! And waltzing in there with some kinda Plan B did make her feel slightly better about the entire affair.

With that, Lilian leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss on her lips, “For good luck,” she smiled, “More incoming later.”

Then, armed only with her audacity and a big, sharp sword, Lilian did go inside. So far, so good! No attempts to end her on sight! Although, to be perfectly honest, most people just didn’t look at her all too much. Sure, she was an unknown face in the district; this was Vegas, though, and the huntress suspected that strangers didn’t really raise a lot of eyebrows here.

How to approach this, though? ‘Hi, can you share some super secret info with me, a not-at-all suspicious rando? Oh, and btw., Michael is totally my best friend! Never fucking mind that I could have just asked him instead.’

Yeah, probably not that. Thankfully, an idea did come to her, and it relied on the one thing that hunters both despised and fetishized to an insane degree – bureaucracy. Please, please, let this work.

“Good evening, Mr. Lavigne,” Lilian made sure to both read the nameplate, and give the man a pleasant smile, “The name’s Julie Kowalska, from the Westfield division.” Why had she gone with Julie’s name, of all the fucking options? Lilian didn’t know, but liked to think it was... some kinda subconscious revenge scheme. “I come on the behalf of Michael Serafis. Recently, we’ve had some… security issues, and we’ve been alerted to a possible breach of protocol in handling important artifacts.” Surprise inspection, motherfuckers! Nevermind that she had literally no IDs that proved her claims, or anything that wouldn’t make her look suspicious as hell if anyone spent more than five seconds thinking about it.

Of course, the goal was to make him not think too much, “I’m sure the reports have been exaggerated,” she waved her hand, as if she was certain nothing too damning would be found, “But you know how these things go. The head honchos will eat you alive if you don’t investigate things properly, no matter how bullshit the accusation is. So, may I see the recent records that fall under the code 7431?”

~***~

A man slightly less brazen than Lixin likely would have had the decency to blush when confronted with someone who he had technically almost gotten killed, but… well, Lixin obviously wasn’t any less brazen than Lixin. That would be quite impossible, even for one such as him. So, of course that he grabbed her hands instead, ”Ooo, so you are Inga! Antony’s new knight in shining armor!”

I… guess that’s better than pet? Among other things. Inga also had the creeping suspicion that she was about to be shoehorned into the role of the reasonable one here, solely by the virtue of having to interact with an even bigger nutjob than she, herself, was. Which, not so fucking fast! Lixin wasn’t going to win that battle this easily, “You could say that, but I will have you know that only posers wear shining armor.”

“Oh?” the man smiled. “How so?”

Inga gave a sweet smile as well, “Armor’s pointless when it isn’t stained by blood. That’s kind of like wearing a sword just because it’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“Aaah, a traditionalist! I see why Antony went with you,” he nodded sagely, as if it was the most natural conclusion in the world. And, sure, maybe it was! Or it would have been, had this been something other than Inga’s life, of all things, in which nothing ever went according to the plan. The string of constant romantic disappointments was just one ingredient in the not-so-delicious goulash, but, yeah! It was also a pretty important one. “A word of advice: she’s prickly, but she doesn’t really mean it, until she does. But, by then, it’s usually late anyway.”

And, you know what? Inga was beginning to see a pattern among those who called themselves Antonia’s friends. Curiously enough, it was also a pattern in which she fit pretty well, which was admittedly somewhat disappointing. Disappointing, but also not really? I can be her friend. That was still more than she’d ever hoped for, what seemed like an eternity ago. No, scratch that. I will be the best damn friend she’s ever had!

(Dying for her, if it ever came down to it, would even feel a little less pathetic. At least friendship was reciprocal, unlike… well, unlike Inga just wanting her. She didn’t quite know what to do with the unrequired love angle yet, but it also wasn’t particularly new, and she knew she could make it work. After all, every good legend was a tragedy in disguise.)

“Never said that you couldn’t,” Lixin turned back to Antonia, with that little smile apparently being a constant thing, “Just that you don’t tend to. You never really visit these days, Antony. It truly makes one wonder – am I not fun enough? Do I just not have it anymore? What do I have to do to catch your attention, hm?”

No idea. Maybe betraying her would work? Of course, this was Antonia’s game, and Inga wasn’t going to ruin it with her impeccable timing. So, yes, she did manage to keep her mouth shut, despite all the comments that threatened to bubble past her lips. A round of applause for the show of self-restraint, ladies and gentlemen!

Not that she had to wait for long, though.

Lixin took the letter, almost as elegant as Antonia herself. He didn’t flinch from the words, nor did he seem particularly surprised; more than a kid that was caught stealing candy, Lixin resembled a faithful dog who knew it had been kicked for a very good reason. “Ah. So it is about that. Both of us can understand words just fine, I’m afraid. I suppose I can’t convince you that this is actually a Dadaist poem that means something else entirely?”

“I wouldn’t really count on that,” Inga interjected.

“Of course not. And Amon… gods.” There was a hint of something sad in his eyes, though he didn’t quite allow it to reach his voice, “Yes, Amon should be here for that. At least I will be able to explain myself to you both, whatever the end result is. There is a… reason for what I did, Antony. I hope you know that? Now, come on in and let us talk. Say, what would you do to protect those you love?”

 

[Lucyfer]

Mr. Lavigne, more commonly called Arthur, or Art, by the majority of the bar, looked up as he heard the strange (but not incorrect) moniker from the lips of someone he did not recognize at all. He frowned at her as she continued on in that rather professional way, despite not at all looking professional. Not suit, no briefcase, nothing of the sort – but then again, those things wouldn’t be common in these circles, even where the bureacratic red tape existed and annoyed the ever-living fuck out of everyone, no more than Mr. Lavigne, who dealt with Silvon’s red tape and the rules against exposure all the goddamn time.

‘Security issues is an understatement.’ Arthur was aware of the warzone that had become Michael’s domain. He didn’t know if anyone was going to push for Michael’s head yet, and doubted it. How had Michael fucked up that badly, though? Questions he’d just ask the other drunks when he knew they wouldn’t think much about their answers.

A question he would not ask this Julie.

“Hasn’t been any breach here, Miss Kowalska,” he noted. There was the fact there was nothing notable to breach here, not anymore, they’d made sure of that. They couldn’t exactly keep those things near the vampire they bought it from, just in case. The fact they even had to buy it and couldn’t just steal it, or literally kill the vampire who had it, was another matter entirely, but no, they couldn’t just do things the proper way.

Michael Serafis had insisted it be obtained without revealing the nature of it, and apparently a lil’ violence would get people wondering far more than a lil’ money.

He tried to puzzle out the numbers in his head, though, not sure he had anything under those numbers, or even sure what the numbers meant. He did not have this shit memorized like Julie seemed to. Which, was also a good thing for her – he didn’t think there would be much in the way of official ID, because there just wasn’t much of that in general in these circles. They weren’t exactly a legally known entity or employer, after all. Sure, there was plenty of red-tape and other bullshit, but people who knew…knew how to get things. “Let me check the files. Jorge!” he called to another at the bar, “keep watch of things. I’ll be back.”

That was meant to include both Julie and Jorge in the ‘I’ll be back’ comment, but he didn’t glance back to see if she followed as he walked out from around the bar and to one of the side rooms he unlocked to check files and numbers.

‘Fucking Serafis.’ Sending agents out to check on things and not giving a warning. Probably the entire POINT but he didn’t have to like it.

~***~

Antonia would at least give Wang Lixin credit – he didn’t lie. He didn’t try to backtrack. Then again, what could he do with it right in front of his face? ‘Nothing.’ But she had seen enough cowards in her day try to backtrack or lie. He was caught, and he knew it. He didn’t even protest the possible end, even if he didn’t say outright that he was dead.

Just, whatever it was, and say, what would you do to protect loved ones?

“Not send them to protect the Veturia, for one,” not that she assumed he had any love for the Maechae, but it was a low enough blow in the moment, “The hunters seem to have a noticeable preference for killing them,” she had a noticeable preference for killing them, but plausible deniability was still in play, for the time being. “You shouldn’t send such faithful hounds to their deaths like that,” she did have a soft spot, and the werewolves were always there for that.

They hadn’t fucking betrayed her. They had been betrayed by Wang fucking Lixin. Oh true, they had free will and they could refuse…but gods, they were so loyal it was painful sometimes, and they honored the treaties for ages, even if their memories were as short as humans.

“I think I’ll wait outside, if you don’t mind.” Antonia would not go into his home, without Amon. No, she knew better than that. Sure, he wasn’t expecting her, but she had given him enough of a homefield advantage by not summoning him to her home. He could still pull some sort of trick inside. He could do it outside, but at least she was closer to her car, and a form of safety, that way.

Thankfully, Amon did not take long, pulling up in his sunburst car and exiting it immediately as he stopped it in the driveway, slamming the door shut as he strode to where Antonia, Lixin, and Inga waited. There was no sunshine in his expression, he didn’t even bother to greet Lixin with a smile. He could tell that no pretenses were needed just from the way they hovered outside.

“Wang,” the distance was in the surname and the terribly formal tone. He stepped quite easily into the role of leadership when it was necessary…even when it wasn’t all wordplay and cutting remarks. “Shall we go in?”

Antonia nodded, prepared then to leave for the interior of what passed for a house by the loosest meaning of the word.

 

[Syntra]

You've got to be fucking kidding me. It probably wasn't a good sign, the way Lilian herself didn't quite believe this was actually working, but it was, and she couldn't help the smile that spread all over her lips. Thanks for all the bullshit security measures, Mike. Those alone, the huntress felt, were like 90% of the reason the man was even willing to humor her. After all, who cared to memorize all the rules and the exceptions, and the exceptions from exceptions?

Nobody. The average hunter was happy to live through the average mission, and only cared about paperwork to the average degree, meaning just enough not to get punished for, quote unquote, 'insufficient record-keeping.' Most were also keenly aware just how little they actually knew, and wasn't that convenient? Definitely, if your plans relied on you pulling nonsense out of your ass.

(Which she... may or may not have been doing. Heh.)

"No, no breach here," Lilian agreed, since it would do no good to antagonize him, "As I said, it's probably nothing. Michael just wants me to turn that probably into absolutely. After the last fuck up, we can't really afford another failure. You know what I mean?" Oh, he definitely did. Lilian herself had been too low on the totem pole to ever engage in the petty political wars, but she was aware of them, much like everyone else. The jokes that circulated among the younger hunters reflected it:

'How do you end a member of the Seven?'

'With a quill, if you hide it well enough.'

Yes, it was... common knowledge that, the more important you were, the bigger the likelihood of your career ending for reasons that were downright idiotic. Call it a success tax, maybe?

Or karma.

So, Lilian did follow that Lavigne guy, trying to look... well, as official as she possibly could. That, uh, probably meant acting cold? But not too cold, because nobody liked cold motherfuckers. Smalltalk it is, I guess. "An unfortunate thing," Lilian said, "The whole war. No end in sight, and more casualties than I've ever seen in my life. You should be happy your district is so peaceful, Mr. Lavigne." And enjoy it while it lasts. Which likely wouldn't be for long. There was no way this little adventure of hers wouldn't reach Michael's ears, and when it did... well, bye bye, Mr. Lavigne!

Lilian did feel sort of sorry for him, but she felt even sorrier for herself, and all the innocent vamps they'd collectively fucked over.

"Mostly, I'm here to see if the protocol was followed all the way through. Here, for example," Lilian grabbed one of the files, "The main label is missing. You do know that the level of secrecy is supposed to be indicated on the cover, I presume?" Because she had to find a way complain about something, even if that something couldn't be too serious. Staying in character, and all that.

Thankfully, the folder on the gem was there, and Lilian did her best to maintain a slightly disinterested expression of someone who was just doing her job as she turned the pages.

Something something, Silvon, something something, physical properties, something something, a bunch of weird symbols. Relevant info where, motherfuckers?!

Right there, as it turned out.

Not that it made a lot of sense.

"Why an orphanage?" Lilian muttered. "And in what, Jerusalem?"

~***~

Woah, she's scary. Not that Inga hadn't known; 'scary' was likely Antonia's default mode, once those polished manners and niceties were out the window. She even liked it about her, because only cowards wouldn't appreciate a woman who could kick their ass in twenty different ways and look this cool doing it. Still, at the end of the day? Yeah, Inga was glad that that sort of ire wasn't directed at her.

There was nothing fun about it. No teasing edge, no playfulness, no nothing; just that cold, matter-of-fact hatred that you directed at things rather than people, such as cockroaches, or shitty weather reports, or convoluted tax forms.

Lixin's smile dropped somewhat, too, "That does seem like a very good way to protect them, yes. I'll jot that down, provided I still have arms once I'm able to do so."

More than his usual self, Amon resembled a god of revenge, though something like that could hardly stop Inga. "Hi, Amon!" she waved, all casual, as if this place wasn't about to become Lixin's grave, "Looking good today. I was just wondering, what is it about you that we always meet either shortly before or after someone's murder?" Admittedly, most of that was caused by Inga being something of a murder enthusiast, but, not the point. The point, ladies and gentlemen, was terror! Psychological warfare! Gotta destroy the enemy's mind first, so that they helped destroy the rest.

Not that Lixin needed more destroying. It almost seemed as if Amon's presence caused him to shrink, and when he did look up to meet his friend's (?) eyes, Inga almost felt sorry for him. Almost, of course, being the key word. "Amon. It's good to see you, even now. At least this will get wrapped up neatly, eh?"

And so they did go inside, which... may have been a bigger mistake than Inga expected. The angles only got weirder, if anything, and she was pretty sure the pictures hanging on the walls were meant to be viewed on some kinda drugs to make even the faintest hint of sense. What is this, Lisa Frank's fever dream?

Then again, even Lisa Frank had her limits. Lixin, apparently, did not.

"Do sit down," the man gestured towards the sofa, "Fancy a drink? I assume that you still want to hear my reasons, and it is a drinking kind of story. I mean, all of mine are, but... yes." Whether the others wanted one of not, he poured some coldblood for himself and sat down on the floor.

"Interested in hearing why I sold my soul to the Veturia?" Even now, beaten down and so close to his death he could smell it, Wang Lixin was nothing if not theatrical. Perhaps that was why he clung to it? Like that one edgy highschool kid that had based his entire identity on being a punk, so no, he couldn't not spit the teacher in the face. He had nothing else, after all. "Not because I was bored, I can assure you of that. Isolde's parties have always sucked."

That's putting it pretty fucking mildly. One such party had cost Inga everything, although, back then, she hadn't really understood what price she was paying. As per usual, the interest rate was the real bitch, here.

"I..." Lixin took a deep breath, as if trying to find proper words, "...Only wanted to buy some time, before I figured how to get Johannes back." Johannes? Inga sort of felt like someone who had turned on the TV to watch their favorite soap opera, only to find out they'd somehow missed like twenty episodes and didn't recognize the characters anymore. "She's got him, Amon. I don't know how, but..." Okay, so someone important? A friend? "...That doesn't really matter. Wouldn't you do it for your childe? And she didn't even want that much, considering that hunters are expendable."

Obviously, he didn't think any of the Optimates had ever been endangered by the stunt -- and they hadn't been, technically speaking.

 

[Lucyfer]

Arthur didn’t truly think it was necessary for Julie to follow him, but he didn’t protest it. ‘Guess so she can see I’m not leaving anything out, or…’ Or whatever bullshit reason there was, as he rifled through files, still trying to jog his memory about what would fall under that code, but not stopping her from looking at things as he began to set them out.

Arthur still scoffed at the comment, “Yeah, great fun getting jerked around by a vamp in glittering suits,” he grumbled, “I’d prefer to put a fucking stake in his heart, and the rest of them,” but no, apparently that was not on the agenda, so what the fuck was even the point? Of course, they did still get to kill the occasional vamp, which was good, but the activity here was much less.

Of course, he also didn’t have a temporary-vampire friend who gave him locations and times to go kill vampires. He had no advantage like Michael used to have!

He paused as she mentioned a labeling issue, glancing at it, frowning. ‘No, the level of secrecy isn’t.’ Because why would you indicate a secrecy level on the cover so anyone knew that something was top secret at a glance? None of the files had that kind of labeling. The coding system was done inside the file, and they practiced organizational habits to make it obvious to those who knew what to look for, but otherwise, the code was revealed when the file was opened, on the first page. Otherwise, they were all fairly bland files, no one would know at a glance if something was important or not.

That was the way to keep information hidden, supposedly.

Plus, picking one out, when they were all like that? Strange.

“Paperwork’s changed. Never got that memo.”

Though that folder was a top secret one, he saw that when she opened it, but he disregarded it for the moment, going back to the files, until he heard her exclamation. The tone added to that nagging doubt that began when she mentioned how the paperwork ought to be sorted. The surprise, as well, as if she didn’t know there were orphanages around the globe.

“Of course, Jerusalem, it’s a holy site,” he set the files down, and moved towards the desk, as if going for more files. “Plenty of artifacts go through there,” opening the drawer of the desk, it wasn’t a file he grabbed, but a gun, which he turned on Julie, “And anyone with your kind of clearance ought to know that. Who the fuck are you and what the fuck do you want?” He made sure the safety was off.

~***~

Amon had little time for Inga’s shenanigans. When she greeted him, his eyes darted to her in acknowledgment, but no smile quirked his lips. He was as unamused as Antonia about all of this, and allowed himself to be led in without sparing a word to Inga, into the distorted home of a once old friend. He wasn’t even happy to think he would be killing Lixin that day, or allowing Antonia to do so. It wasn’t a happy event. It would have been like killing Isolde right after the feast.

At least enough time had passed that he would be happy to murder her.

Fresh betrayal was the worst feeling in the world.

They sat, Antonia at the center, Amon and Inga flanking her. She denied drink with a shake of her head, though Amon extended his hand for a cup, which he would drink. Antonia just gave him a look for it, but said not a word; Amon didn’t have the typical worries of other vampires about accepting blood from an enemy.

That was, indeed, how she saw Lixin, even as he began his story.

Amon scoffed at the comment of Isolde’s parties, but Antonia remained deadly silent.

A childe was stolen away. Perhaps there would have been a time when Antonia’s heartstrings would have been pulled by it, but knowing what she did of Isolde, she considered the price of one childe a paltry sum when she’d lost them all. One childe, against everything and everyone else? She’d pay that price, a thousand times over.

“Mm. Yes. Hunters are. Maechae aren’t,” Amon said, “I suppose Johannes is worth more than them, though.” The look from Antonia was withering. He ignored it, even if he felt the pulse of fear that was very unnatural at ignoring it, and knew he was dealing with a ticking time bomb in the woman that sat next to him. Likely, everyone knew that, though. He, at least, had centuries of experience not flinching. “Is she threatening to kill him? What—”

“No,” Antonia cut him off, her eyes shutting in frustration. In rage. “No, no, no, that is not where this is going, Amon. My sincerest apologies, Wang Lixin, for your loss,” because it was a loss, cut and dry, and he should have accepted it without putting others at risk. Without showing he could be manipulated by one, single, life. “What you should have done was told us,” she opened her eyes and fixed him with a hard stare, doing her best to still keep that power from leaking out, but it came in pulses, fixated on whoever she fixated on.

At least he would be familiar enough to know it for what it was. He’d felt it before, in far less serious circumstances, when she was far younger, and dealing with the fallout of his hedonism.

“Does the word ally mean nothing to you?” It was snapped like a whip, “or the word enemy for that matter? Have you forgotten – I suppose it’s easier for you to do so,” she noted, “Your first directive as an ally is to come to your other allies and let them know when you are being threatened, when you are being harmed. We would have been there for you, Wang. We would have tried to help, we even could have done our best to keep the Maechae out of trouble!”

She could have redirected Inga. She could have warned them that, oh, maybe on this day no one can show up for werewolf holiday reasons!

“But you didn’t. Instead you’ve chosen to keep us out of it, to work with someone you know remains our enemy,” there was the public face, of course. There were the secrets to be hidden even from Lixin – but he knew this unforgiving face well. He knew the Veturia had never been forgiven, and never would be. “You’ve hidden a crime Isolde has committed, something we could have used to bring her down, for what? One childe?”

Amon would not interject, or try to steer things back his way. What point? He could pull rank, but Antonia would get answers this way, too.

He understood Lixin, as much as he understood Antonia.

‘What childe would you offer on the altar to your revenge, Antony?’ But she had none left. That was her tragedy; she had forgotten what it meant to have a childe, what it meant when you promised to protect them with your own life by the virtue of creating them.

 

[Syntra]

Whoops?

Yeah, fucking whoops. Perhaps it wasn't the most eloquent way to express her dismay, but that was just about the last thing on Lilian Perry's mind as she stared into the cold barrel of the gun, wondering how she'd gotten herself into this mess in the first place.

Okay, fine, not really. How to get out of it was the only question worth asking, and her thoughts did turn into that direction, rather than towards introspective bullshit. Unfortunately, she was... also sort of drawing a blank.

How the fuck did you deal with a gun?

She did know a way or two, but all of them involved being way, way closer to her target than she currently was. Calling Cass was another option, though that also couldn't be done without eliminating the immediate threat first. So, if she could approach without him noticing...?

Slowly, Lilian raised her arms, "Are you going to believe me when I say this is just next part of the test, and that you aced it?" Likely not. There was plausible bullshit, and then there was your run-of-the-mill, nonsensical bullshit, that nobody without substantial brain damage would buy. Needless to say, this wasn't the former. But, talking was good! A great distraction! "I didn't lie that much, though. Me and Mike do go way back," to the point she'd tried to kill him. How many people could boast that, hm? Lilian wagered that the number was quite low, although that was likely due to the fact that corpses just weren't very good at talking.

Those who opposed Michael generally didn't excel at survival. You didn't get this high up the food chain without knowing how to deal with enemies, and the rumors spoke for themselves.

Hopefully she wouldn't become the next item on that list?

Hopefully!

(Not that she wasn't approaching it at a break-neck speed.)

"Lilian Perry. Do you know who I am?" She took another step towards him, despite her heart hammering a wild staccato in her chest, "I don't feel like dying here, Mr. Lavigne, so I'm going to cooperate. I assume someone out there would like to talk to me?"

Just a little closer!

~***~

Betrayals, lost childes, old friendships trampled. Wow, this really was a soap opera! That Antonia wasn't a fan of starring in one didn't come off as much of a surprise, nor did the... well, general coldness. The 'I'm going to fuck you up,' factor, as Inga liked to call it. Her inner radar had become very attuned to it, so yes, she could pretty much tell that the values were off the charts. You're a walking corpse, Wang Lixin. Do you realize that?

Perhaps he did, perhaps he didn't. Not everyone showed it in the same way, and Inga, who literally laughed death in the face, knew better than to expect normal reactions to things as decidedly not normal as your entire existence maybe ending. Vamps in particular... tended to be more than a little weird when mortality finally came knocking on their door. It almost felt as if they wanted to ask: 'But what do you mean? I thought I was promised eternity?'

The problem was, eternity was a sham. The emptiest of empty promises. It just wasn't a thing, because, in order to believe in it, you had to ignore that small, unspoken so far looming in the background. Alive, so far. Here, so far. And, hey, that was your prerogative! But anything that forced you to overlook evidence just wasn't true, in Inga's book.

All things met their end. Nations, ideas, and, yes, even gods themselves.

(Fortunately.)

"Death would have been kinder," Lixin turned his attention to Amon. "I think she is..." he clasped his glass a little tighter, "...Running some weird experiments. I don't know what she is trying to do, Amon, but she's holding many people captive. Has been, for years."

That made Inga raise an eyebrow. "Wait, for real? Back when I was still with the Veturia," so, a million years ago, "I heard those rumors. Nothing too specific, just 'behave, or you'll end up in Isolde's basement' or some such. I honestly thought Matteo was just fucking with me." In hindsight, that probably should have tipped her off. Matteo, and joking? The two went together about as well as Inga and common sense, or Inga and decency, or Inga and a sense of self-preservation, if you wanted to be really extreme about your examples.

Antonia and forgiveness might have been another good comparison, as Lixin was finding out.

"I know," he made a face, "I didn't want to drag you into this. Part of why Isolde didn't ask for more is that she knew we weren't really in contact, and I was worried she'd find out if that changed. I also didn't have any hard evidence, so--"

So, what? Something important, most likely, though apparently not important enough for it to make him gloss over the 'one childe' comment. That was when his demeanor shifted, from his sad, apologetic self to something that... almost resembled fury? Almost, but not quite.

"He's a person, Antonia. A person I love. When did you forget what that feels like?"

The silence that followed was heavy enough that you could strangle someone with it. In that silence, Inga somehow found the courage to touch Antonia's hand, despite a) feeling strangely terrified, and b) her rational side screaming at her not to get involved.

'C'mon,' it said, 'You wanna make her mad? You're on thin fucking ice as is!'

Which was a good argument, in a vacuum.

Except, Antonia apparently liked something about her, and that something couldn't have been cowardice. That was the one thing you couldn't accuse Inga Singedottir of, no matter how much you hated her.

So, unpopular opinion alert! "One childe," she said, sounding uncharacteristically soft, "Versus one head. Do you see that much of a difference between the two, Antonia?" Because there wasn't any. Not really. Murder didn't make you look weak the way compassion did, but both came from the same emotional place, and both were... a matter of timing. A matter of context, as well. "You kill him, and then what? What will you actually gain?"

Inga, advocating for mercy? More likely than you might think!

(And no, this wasn't at all about her feeling any stupid feelings, and wondering what might have been had her sire been this ride or die about her. Had the asshole not just... left her, and had she not had to deal with everything on her own. Had they not made the Veturia look good, because at least they had been willing to have her. Nuh uh, no projection going on here!)

Still, appealing with emotion would have been pointless. Antonia was the kind of woman who enjoyed results, and wasn't that convenient? Because: "All I'm saying is, this could be a solid opening. If Isolde thinks Lixin here is 100% hers, then that can absolutely be used against her." Hopefully to get many, many, many more heads, each of them dramatically more important than Wang Lixin's. "And to help that Johannes guy, as well, if that still can be done. The others, too."

What? Name a more iconic duo than Inga and impossible challenges!

 

[Lucyfer]

No, Arthur did not believe he just passed some elaborate test. In fact, he should have shot the woman right there, but he was a bit too curious for his own good to just pull the trigger and get it over with. He scoffed as she called Michael Serafis ‘Mike’, like an old friend – or a new enemy, as it turned out, when she gave the name.

The name was everywhere. You couldn’t go a day without seeing it in a text or an email. Perhaps he should have paid more attention to them so he’d know her face, but really, he saw so many faces that few ever really stuck unless he was interacting with them daily.

“Well, that tracks with you knowing Michael.” And that was a huge fucking problem with what she now knew, he was definitely going to have to get that up the ladder to Michael’s attention, sooner than later.

But it also meant he couldn’t just kill her, because yeah – above his paygrade.

Someone wanted to interrogate the traitor, he was sure of that. He didn’t like that she stepped closer, though, but he didn’t fire. He kept it aimed at her as if he would fire, though. “You’re right, someone is going to want to talk to you. Go back towards the wall, and put your hands behind your back,” it probably wasn’t the smartest idea to lift his gun to motion towards the wall further away from him, “can’t let you walk around without being bound, so you can cooperate with that.”

As if it could be that easy.

“And where’s your vampire friend?”

Here, right? Somewhere?

He was told to expect a vampire with her, after all. Obviously not in the bar, but she couldn’t be far, Lilian was probably expecting her to come in and save her when she needed it. Fuck, he really needed to get this information out, but first things first.

He had to deal with the immediate threat of Lilian Perry and make sure she couldn’t do anything.

~***~

‘Then let them die.’

Death would have been kinder, and Death could be kinder, if Lixin did not do as Isolde demanded. If she was forced, so to speak, to kill her hostage, and recognize that she could not make the Bayons bow to her without a greater show of force – something that would be noticed, and criticized, in today’s world. Of course, saying that wasn’t the proper thing.

Saying it wouldn’t even be the expected thing, despite how Lixin snapped at her about love and people. Her expression was unphased by the question, the silence stretched only because the answer was obvious and Lixin was an idiot for asking the question.

“I’ve never forgotten,” it was spoken with that same chill every word held.

When she felt the touch, she nearly snapped her hand away and slapped the offending person, not caring if it was Amon or Inga. Thankfully, she caught herself before that initial reaction, only flinching and looking to who it was. Inga, of course. Inga, talking about heads, and talking about how killing him was pointless. ‘He’s the leader of the Bayons, I gain a lot, actually.’ She could pick the next head, for one.

She could own the Bayons in a way.

But how well did that work for Isolde and the Optimates? Not very well when Amon executed the one Isolde chose. Still, her gaze was hot, waiting for Inga to make a decent point about sparing him, because no, emotional appeals weren’t going to work with her when she wanted traitor’s blood spilled across the floor. It wouldn’t gain her much. A bit of peace of mind, the knowledge Lixin could never hurt her again, and then…nothing.

Just the deep knowledge that the Bayons were traitors, and once again, nothing was sacred.

Her cheek twitched.

‘Point.’

Her gaze slid back to Lixin. “Can you be useful?” there was obviously only one answer to that, “I’m not guaranteeing anyone’s life.” Not his, not even all the people Isolde had captured, “but I am willing to put in significant work to spite Isolde if you can be useful, and maybe you’ll at least live to tell Johannes goodbye.”

Amon let out a scoffing laugh. The reason wasn’t clear. Antonia trying to dictate if he lived? Inga succeeding in talking her down from murder? His own fraying sanity? Hard to tell as he shook his head and leaned back, “Antony, dear, you’re all but confessing in front of a traitor who can running to Isolde at any time. Not that his word means anything anymore,” Amon was indeed, still wounded. Still angry, even if his anger wasn’t as cold.

He ran hot in comparison.

“Though I suppose you’re not stupid enough to do that. Just as I suppose you’ve realized why Antony here is upset with you – that little trick of yours almost cost Inga’s life, the one who’s begging for mercy.” It tickled him, clearly. Enough to let it continue and not disrupt it all with his own demand for a head.

Isolde was the bigger prize, and Inga the one physically wounded. If she wanted mercy, so be it.