Post by kimcora on Jun 9, 2019 10:29:40 GMT -5
It was a rather humid night in June. Day where it seemed the light drizzle that blanketed the city would never stop and the grey clouds that blotted out the moon gave the streets a dreary look. Even the streetlights struggled to cast out the darkness of the evening from their respective areas, creating odd glowing circles of light sporadically on the path. It was dark in this part of the city due to the late hour. The humans liked to keep their curfews and abide by them as it was “safer” for their young and impressionable. But up the city streets, on a hill, glimmered a smaller but vibrant part of the city. It was there the immortal society chose to live and mingle with their own kind. Not without first trying to assimilate into human society when The Heralding occurred.
Human history and immortal historians remember the events entirely differently, but all came to consensus it was the first time humans were exposed to the supernatural realm. After years of watching humans destroy their world from the shadows and guises as mortal beings, vampires offered the first contact with the nations leaders. They offered aid in warfare, alliances in business, and medical secrets guarded throughout the ages. The humans were—understandably—alarmed by the sudden appearance of creatures that haunted their pop-culture and nightmares. If you ask a supernatural on the street, they would tell you the humans struck first, killing the unarmed vampire envoys and losing a few of their numbers as well, including one of their leaders. If you ask a human, the vampires openly threatened mankind with coercion and stated their true intentions of wanting to take over the world. When they were denied by their fearless leaders, the vampires attacked, intending to cripple the nations by destroying their leadership. No one knows the true start of the Decade War that tore apart countries to small villages in bloody conflict. While the supernaturals has their powers, the humans had numbers and weapons. The two sides were locked in bloody warfare for years till the day fondly known as The Revelation. On the morning after a particularly bloody battle in a major city, a vampire woman clan leader and a human male soldier emerged from the rubble with their hands grasped tightly together. At their side we’re a werewolf alpha to the large clan and the sorcerer superior of the magic users. The group beseeched generals and leaders on both sides for peace, stating that their worlds could live in equality and harmony if only they could set aside pretenses and mistakes and meet on a level field. A shot from an unknown party killed the human and the vampire female allowed the sun to damage her beyond repair, holding her fallen lover on the field he fell. The scene was moving, enough so that those willing to give peace a shot outnumbered those that wanted the other side dead. It was even said the Originals wept tears of blood at the sight of their daughter falling for the sake of a mortal. But it’s speculation as no one remotely near the Originals survived the war, both supernatural and human.
On the eve of The Revelation, leaders from both sides met across party lines to secure a tenuous, but fair alliance. Supernaturals joined human society and humans maintained their independence. They were allowed to rule each other separately and consequences would be levied by the others jurisdiction should harm fall a human or supernatural. Elite forces and ambassadors were established for both sides to maintain the peace. But not all were pleased with the war ending. A human group banned together following the war, a cult that spread knowledge of killing supernaturals to its followers, called the Brotherhood of Light. While many play them off as a group of heretics, it’s said that their alliances and membership runs deeper into human society than revealed. Prejudices against humans still run deep within the supernatural world and it is clear to the ancients that humans can only hold their power for so long.
Human history and immortal historians remember the events entirely differently, but all came to consensus it was the first time humans were exposed to the supernatural realm. After years of watching humans destroy their world from the shadows and guises as mortal beings, vampires offered the first contact with the nations leaders. They offered aid in warfare, alliances in business, and medical secrets guarded throughout the ages. The humans were—understandably—alarmed by the sudden appearance of creatures that haunted their pop-culture and nightmares. If you ask a supernatural on the street, they would tell you the humans struck first, killing the unarmed vampire envoys and losing a few of their numbers as well, including one of their leaders. If you ask a human, the vampires openly threatened mankind with coercion and stated their true intentions of wanting to take over the world. When they were denied by their fearless leaders, the vampires attacked, intending to cripple the nations by destroying their leadership. No one knows the true start of the Decade War that tore apart countries to small villages in bloody conflict. While the supernaturals has their powers, the humans had numbers and weapons. The two sides were locked in bloody warfare for years till the day fondly known as The Revelation. On the morning after a particularly bloody battle in a major city, a vampire woman clan leader and a human male soldier emerged from the rubble with their hands grasped tightly together. At their side we’re a werewolf alpha to the large clan and the sorcerer superior of the magic users. The group beseeched generals and leaders on both sides for peace, stating that their worlds could live in equality and harmony if only they could set aside pretenses and mistakes and meet on a level field. A shot from an unknown party killed the human and the vampire female allowed the sun to damage her beyond repair, holding her fallen lover on the field he fell. The scene was moving, enough so that those willing to give peace a shot outnumbered those that wanted the other side dead. It was even said the Originals wept tears of blood at the sight of their daughter falling for the sake of a mortal. But it’s speculation as no one remotely near the Originals survived the war, both supernatural and human.
On the eve of The Revelation, leaders from both sides met across party lines to secure a tenuous, but fair alliance. Supernaturals joined human society and humans maintained their independence. They were allowed to rule each other separately and consequences would be levied by the others jurisdiction should harm fall a human or supernatural. Elite forces and ambassadors were established for both sides to maintain the peace. But not all were pleased with the war ending. A human group banned together following the war, a cult that spread knowledge of killing supernaturals to its followers, called the Brotherhood of Light. While many play them off as a group of heretics, it’s said that their alliances and membership runs deeper into human society than revealed. Prejudices against humans still run deep within the supernatural world and it is clear to the ancients that humans can only hold their power for so long.
<*~~~~~~**~~~~**~~~~~~*>
“Tell me again why you desire to run off into the human city in the early parts of the night.” Alarik looked up from his phone, his green eyes narrowed some in soft irritation with his father. The man looked exhausted, he was barely able to speak without a yawn or two, and Alarik was sure that if he pulled down those thick sunglasses he wore that he would see bags under his eyes. That wasn’t to say his father didn’t pull off being tired well. Othello Everleigh was never anything less than impeccably dressed and put together, even when this was just a short car ride into the city. Alarik had known the man all 24 years of his life and knew this compulsion for perfection came from his upbringing. It was hard not to come out with some sort of extreme habits when you were raised by Lord Everleigh. The man was a cold, emotionless creature that made you feel like ice ran in your veins every time he looked at you with those calculating eyes. He made Alarik’s skin crawl, something he noticed his father tried to shield him from, even as a young adult nearing his induction into the vampire world. It was a big time in any young mortals life, to finally be accepted into the family that raised you. Not that Othello had ever made him feel anything less than accepted. Alarik senses genuine love and affection from his father, the man that would thankfully turn him and not Lord Everleigh. He had heard from Erika, his father’s sister, that the change had been painful under Everleigh’s power and bite. Alarik has never been fed from before, as was law and custom for a mortal under the care of house leaders. He was on a pedestal, untouchable in the home, and beyond reproach from anyone except his father and Lord Everleigh. After all, vampires could not have children and so they adopted their young from prestigious families or mortals that showed promising traits. Alarik has once been told his mother held some regal social standing in Europe and she gave him to the Everleigh family as a token for their patronage. Not that he cared for the woman. His adoptive father and Erika were more family to him than any human ever would be. But with that came protectiveness over his well-being. Agreeably it was dangerous for a young vampire initiate to wander the city alone. They risked being killed by other clans, werewolf packs with a chip on their shoulder, or human cultists with a point to prove. So his father demanded he personally escort Alarik to social gatherings of any kind—or at least the ones he knew about...Alarik was still a young mortal that had learned early where the hidden exits to the estate were and How to effectively sneak out unnoticed. He wouldn’t tell his father of course since the man would be heart broken and furious to know he put himself in danger. But Alarik wanted to live his life to the fullest before he was forever barred from seeing the sunrise again and an immortal creature that thirsted for blood. His father would forgive him that...just like he would forgive him getting coffee with his friends. Well, what his father knew of his friends. He thought them all mortal. Sadly that wasn’t completely true...
“I told you, father. The humans don’t feel comfortable wandering the supernatural city at night. Besides, they have a curfew remember?” Alarik said as he quickly sent off another message to a potential date he had that night. Why not christen his upcoming 25th birthday with someone beautiful at his side?
Alarik caught the look his father spared him, one that was worried yet trusting. The man constantly worried, like it were his job. “Certainly we could host your friends. It would save my poor old heart from worrying for you’re safety among with these blood bags.” He said with a sneer at the human terminology. Alarik knew he harbored hate for the humans after the war. He didn’t blame his father. A lot of good vampires were lost in that war, whole clans gone...
“Father, I’m a blood-bag currently. We agreed I could have a normal life before I give it to the service of the Everleigh.” Alarik stated firmly, getting a course look from his father.
“You make it sound like the life of a vampire isn’t normal. My son, you are nothing like these mortals. You are above them in every way and fashion. Your inheritance proves that.” Alarik looked down at the patch on his clothing, a simple t-shirt that even had the Everleigh crest on it. “Besides, you’re an adorable blood-bag. They might get jealous.” His father’s joke made Alarik smirk as he looked up at the man who was smiling a fanged smile back at him. What should have been unnerving to most was endearing to Alarik. He liked that his father smiled so openly. Some vampires could be so dour...
“Not for long. You said my induction is in a few days.” Othello nodded with a wistful smile.
“Yes, on the night of your 25th birthday. Poetic isn’t it? My waited until I was 26, no matter how ready I was. He had a thing with even numbers.” Alarik heard the tense humor in his tone, knowing that the relationship between his father and grandfather were still at odds. Not that he blamed his father but it sure made family gatherings awkward...”But you are ready, Alarik...I couldn’t be prouder than now, knowing the man you’ve become and will become. I almost feel I should step aside and allow you to run the clan in my stead.” Alarik balked at the idea of taking over the clan, even if he wouldn’t show it or vocalize it to his father. He knew he wasn’t the right man for the job and hated the idea of all that responsibility when he didn’t even agree with a lot of what the clan stood for. He knew his father was the right man to change things...
“Thank you, father. But I’ll leave the stressful work for you till I’m actually ready. You got to enjoy your life as a newborn and I fully intend to enjoy the fullest of mine.” The men laughed and talked lightly on the way, filling the silence from scandalous tales from his father’s youth and Alarik’s questions about the life of a newborn vampire. Their conversation was hardly over when they reached the coffee shop just teeming with young college students put studying for exams or enjoying the relaxing atmosphere.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to ditch this hovel and attend Lady Griffin’s event in the Hills? It’s said to be the IT party of the new season.” Alarik gave his father a shake of his head and waved at him with his phone.
“Enjoy it. I’m sure Erika will. Tell Lady Griffin I expect the next to be even grander. I’ll call the driver and make sure I’m home before daybreak.” He left the car to enter into the coffee shop, knowing the looks he was getting rolling up to the place in an expensive SUV that was built for protection from enemies and the sun. His clothes were finely made and there was a distinct air of distinguish around Alarik as he approached a table where two men sat.
One was a blonde like himself, but of a lighter, more wheat like color. They were fairly the same age as immortals, but this boy towered over him by a good few inches. Not that it was all that intimidating when you met the man. He was a total softie and kinder than anyone Alarik had met. And for a werewolf, he was friendly and quite energetic. His happy-go-lucky nature was perhaps the reason the two became best friends despite the tensions between vampires and werewolves. The two immortals struggled for dominance constantly after the war, but took their fighting to the shadows after the humans began making threats to step in if the situation wasn’t resolved before war broke out. No one wanted another war, so they all plastered on smiles and pretended to live in harmony. Well most anyhow. Alarik couldn’t care less about the fighting. He judged the person, not the race. The werewolf’s ears seemed to pick up on the approaching steps and without missing a beat, he held up a backpack with a smirk. Alarik took the bag and went to the bathroom. He emerged a few minutes later in a more relaxed outfit, modern enough for the club scene they were hitting up later and casual enough to not look suspicious at the coffee house. The best part was there were no glaringly obvious vampire clan crests plastered on the clothing. “Finally you get here, your highness.” The werewolf joked, getting a snicker from Alarik.
“Sorry, Luca. Had to deal with my dad. It took promising to text every hour for him not to barge in on our plans.” Alarik grumbled, getting a sideways look from the other man at the table who had his nose buried in a large old dusty tome. Alarik caught the deep purple eyes looking at him from over the page, his brown hair somewhat in his face which added to the drama of his look. The look made Alarik tense some, as he had heard a warlock’s stare could peer into the person’s very soul. It was hard not to think this man saw right through him when his stares always seemed to harbor some electric energy to them. They had only been friends for a few months now and even then their friendship began out of a rather odd situation...Well, Alarik and Luca considered them all friends. It was hard to tell what the warlock thought of them.
“He still thinks we’re mortal?” Alarik nodded and the warlock gave a roll of his eyes. “Typical. I’m sure he would have us both drained and turned to ash if he knew his precious protege was hanging out with a fleabag and a demon’s puppet.” The dismissive tone that was characteristic of the warlock made Luca frown with a worried look.
“Eli! Do you always have to be so negative? Maybe his father would like us. I mean—I’m not partial to bloodsuckers but anyone associated with our buddy can’t be all that bad.” Luca’s cheerful tone earned him a “are you really that stupid?” Look from Eli before looking back at his book.
“As if your father wouldn’t feel the same way Alarik’s would about a mixed race gathering, Luca. He’d probably tear us to shreds or hunt us first to savor the taste. Mine would dine on your flesh for dinner to devour your essences for power. Let’s face it, we all have daddy issues.” Eli’s blunt words drew an unexpected laugh from Alarik, while Luca looked green at the idea of being cannibalized. The diverse reactions obviously caught Eli by surprise, as Alarik could have sworn he saw a smile creep onto the warlock’s lips.
“Why do I hang out with you negative dark humor types? I came here to have a good time and now you’ve got me bummed about my apparent daddy issues.” Luca grumbled, though the humor there alerted that the werewolf didn’t stay “bummed” for long. The man really was like a ray of sunshine to Eli’s cynicism and Alarik’s more pacifist nature.
“Because you know we have the best fun. I need some relief before my Induction Ceremony. If I have to study more I’m going to burn down the library.” Alarik huffed as Luca gave him a raise of his brow.
“They make you study to become a bloodsucker? I thought they just bite you and ‘poof’, you become a pale loser with fangs and a bat fetish.” Alarik shook his head, looking off at the window where he could see the rainy street beyond.
“We study from the time we’re adopted. Even as babies they cram history and philosophies of the Night Doctrines down our throats, the bylaws and rules written by the Originals. Then there’s the business side of things and the socialite duties. Don’t get me started on how many different ways you can offend a clan by wearing the wrong tie or lapel pin.” Alarik saw Eli give him a sarcastically disappointed pout.
“And here I was hoping you would regale us with lessons on how to properly sip our coffee. Damn.” Luca snorted at Eli’s joke and Alarik gave them a ‘haha not funny’ glare before straightening his posture to its usual regal appearance.
“Well you be heathens should learn some manners since you’ll be formally invited to attend my Induction Ceremony. My father won’t tolerate you using the wrong fork, believe me.” He notices the table got tense and quiet, as if an uncomfortable stuffiness sucked the life out of the air. Alarik looked to his only true friends and saw they looked just as awkward as the situation felt. It drew a tightness to his throat at seeing how Luca voided his eyes with a half frown and even Eli’s fingers tensed to a white knuckles hold on his book.
“Guys...you didn’t think I wouldn’t invite you to the most important event in my lifetime, did you?” He asked, his voice softer than he meant it to be. Luca was the first to speak up, even if it were obvious he wasn’t quite sure what to say. Bless the poor wolf for trying.
“Uh—well Alarik—you have to see our side. This is a vampire ceremony, for vampires only. They aren’t going to take kindly to a werewolf and a warlock being around. He’ll your dad doesn’t even know we’re friends. Eli isn’t totally wrong. We might get killed if we were there.” Luca stammered, his face falling some in confusion and worry. He was trying not to hurt Alarik’s feelings, but it was obvious by the human’s crestfallen expression. Alarik knee the danger of the situation, but he had expected his friends to trust that he would never let anything happen to them. Lately, fears had been creeping up about losing the people he was closest to when his change happened. He wouldn’t be able to see them much after his change as newborns were controlled but constantly thirsty and prone to accidents. He would be locked away till he learned to control his thirst and even then, the sunlight would hurt him. He wouldn’t be able to meet with them freely and certainly not a werewolf. It was frowned upon and he knew Lord Everleigh would forbid it. His father could be reasoned with, but that man would sooner see Alarik banished than risk his reputation. But he wanted to go out of his mortal world making a statement, that he fully intended to maintain his friends despite the prejudices. Lord Everleigh couldn’t banish him in such a public forum and look like he didn’t support partnership and inclusion between races. The Vampire Council would lose their mind if he openly exposed the prejudice everyone knew existed in the shadows. It was a dangerous game, but one Alarik was willing to play for his own happiness. He didn’t get a choice to become a vampire, not really. But he did get to chose the friends he spent at least part of eternity with...
But he couldn’t force them to go and this was a lot to ask. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Eli cut him off to his surprise.
“Well,” Alarik’s eyes darted up and he saw Eli close his book and set it on the table, “I always do love causing a scene and perhaps I’d look damn near perfect as a martyr if they decide to make me desert. I’m in.” Alarik’s brows rose in shock and his mouth fell open some as Luca spoke up.
“Yeah, a party of vamps won’t keep me from being there for you, Alarik. But you owe me big time.” Alarik’s expression went from utter shock to cheerful surprise as he gave his friends a bright smile.
“Guys—“ He began but Eli held up a hand with a snippy look.
“Get emotional and sappy on me and I’m leaving your asses here. Now finish up your coffees and let’s head to the club before we miss the fun.” Alarik spared Eli a softer look that made the warlock look away and back to his coffee. There was care there in Alarik’s look, but he knew Eli wouldn’t reciprocate it openly if he did feel anything at all. He then looked to Luca with brighter smile.
“And we’ll need to get you a suit tomorrow. I have some great tailors I can recommend—ooh like this one—“ Luca gave a groan as Alarik babbled on about the tailors he preferred, not seeming to notice his friend’s distaste for formal attire. He was happy to have his friends with him at the event to come and that he’s be spending his time with them beforehand. Even the human and supernatural mixed club was going to be a good time tonight, something he hadn’t had in a long time.
~~~**~~**~~~
The stench of blood hit Lilura first as she walked toward the motel room, ducking under the yellow crime tape that blocked off the scene. She ignored the looks she got from the other officers as she pulled up her jacket hoodie closer to her face. She knew what they thought of her and whispered about in the break rooms. Freak, devil worshipper, demon, and the list got really detailed and foul if she listened closely to them when they hung out at bars. Some didn’t believe in her magic and others were afraid of it. The ones that respected her usually kept their distance, something she liked more than the harsh stares. Sure, necromancy wasn’t the flowery Harry Potter bullshit humans were taught to expect out of witches, but it got the job done and was a misunderstood art. Lilura didn’t hate her gift like the others tried to make her. She respected it and found solace in the fact it gave her the ability to help those that passed before their time. Even if it did get a bit noisy at times. Usually she could hear spirits and demons whispering to her from the other side or planes of existence. She kept them away with warding spells and charms she had learned to make at a young age. But when she used her gifts, those charms and spells weakened, allowing all of the energy back in. She would have to take a potion to numb her mind tomorrow, to keep the voices at bay...
She entered the motel past a female officer that straightened and followed her in, like she was waiting for her. “We kept everyone out of the room like you asked. I know you like a fresh crime scene before others go picking through it.” Lilura looked at the female officer, giving her her best attempt at a kind smile.
“Thank you. I don’t suppose we know anything about this man.” She asked, turning her attention to the bed. There on the completely stripped bed lay the body of a half transformed werewolf male, his body carved open and his innards emptied out into odd patterns on the bed. Around him the mattress was soaked in blood, the remnants of symbols drawn in charcoal partially destroyed by all the blood. The sheets made up his restraints, keeping him held in place for this killing no doubt. Lilura observed the horrifying scene and felt her stomach churn. She was going to be sick but kept it all down with a steadying breath. “The desk clerk said the room belonged to a Mr. Jackson Howl. We checked our records and no one with that name popped up. Either he’s an unregistered unkown or that isn’t his real name.” Lilura drowned as she paced alongside the bed. She observed the room, noticing there was no sigh of a struggle in the room. Just the bed was out of order. Odd...usually werewolf transformations were violent affairs that would have at least made a mess in such a small room. Why was the bed the only place that showed signs of cuts?
“I’d say looking at the state of decay. He’s been here a week.” Lilura murmured and the officer gave a small shrug.
“That checks out. No one reported him missing and the no room service sign was put on the door. The call came in after a handy man was called in because residents reported a smell. Poor guy was too shaken up to give a statement.” Lilura stopped at the head of the bed, noting the odd symbols carved into the head of the bed. They were occult in nature, but older magic, clumsily scraped. This person was either in a hurry or inexperienced.
“Any visitors?” Lilura asked and the officer shook her head.
“We don’t know. Clerk says people come and go all the time and the cameras are just for show to keep crime down. He said Mr. Howl paid through the month.” Lilura nodded figuring that was the case. This was a remote and seedy enough place that most wouldn’t question someone coming in or out or even notice anything bizarre. Great...
“Do we have anything personal to the victim?” Lilura turned to the officer and saw her produce a wallet in an evidence bag.
“We took it off him to verify his identity. Nothing in it except a couple of dollars and a photo of a kid.” Lilura took the evidence bag and ran her finger along the wallet. She would have to hold the object to make the spell work. Contact with something the deceased valued was a good way to reach out to the spirit. She would need to in this case.
She removed the wallet from the bag, noting how the officer tensed.
“I need to hold the object to connect with the body. It’s too far decayed for me to reach him through the corpse.” The officer backed off at the news, letting Lilura proceed. She opened the wallet and pulled out the picture, finding it to be a picture of a baby girl sitting in a crib, a full head of red curls on her head. Lilura felt the sting of seeing the poor child’s innocent face and wondered who she was to this man. Hopefully not another child lost in the world...She swallowed hard and then knelt down produced her satchel of materials from her coat. She began scribbling symbols and marks with chalk in the carpet, breaking a stick of olive branch, a white candle lit, and placing the incense oils on her fingers. She placed the picture of the little girl in a small bowl allowing the smoke of the candle to swallow the image. She began muttering in the old tongue to herself, the incantation droning our the noises of the sirens and the city beyond. She heard the flutter of wings and a caw nearby and knew Korro could sense he was being called. She didn’t even register the scream of surprise from the officer when the rather large raven flew through the door and landed on Lilura’s shoulders. The minute his clawed feet connected with her shoulder, Lilura’s eyes sprung open to show only the whites were visible.
Her mind was thrown into a memory of a nursery room bathed in light, a new baby wailing in the crib. Her mother, a brunette thin woman of human decent, was calling out to her with a soothing voice as she worried over the crib. The baby continued to wail until another shape entered from the smoke, touching the side of the crib with a large hand. The werewolf male appeared, looking as human as the woman despite his hulking size. No signs of rot or injury plagued him as he looked down at the baby that cooed at his presence. The pair laughed, the woman saying something distorted about her being a daddy’s girl before using her phone to take a picture. With the flash of the camera phone the scene changed to a nursery in shambles and the brunette woman screaming at the man to get out as she held her crying child, only a few months older. The man stepped away from the crib with a horrified look on his face and by the time Lilura blinked, the corpse was before her. She tried not to feel anything as she stared at the disembowled man before her, his features puffy and gross from decay. She instead focused on the task at hand, knowing she only had a short time with the spirit.
“Why did you bring me back here?” The corpse rattled like the exhale of dying breath. Lilura swallowed hard and gave the man a softer look.
“Im sorry to being back bad memories. I needed a potent one to bring you back from the beyond.” She tried to keep her voice even as she spoke, since the rituals to commune with the deceased never got easier even with time and practice. “You were murdered Mr. Howl—“
“That is not my name, witch.” He snapped, giving Lilura the impression he was not pleased by dealing with her. Most humans nor supernaturals liked her kind...
“Then your name please.” She said softly, getting a smirk from the blue lips of the man.
“Noah Falk. The Falk pack would deny it. One of your three questions is wasted, witch.” He chuckled, making Lilura give a narrow of her eyes.
“If you proceed to toy with me wolf you will be sorely losing out on the chance to catch your killer.” She growled and Noah gave her a loud snarl that was animalistic in nature.
“I will not bend to the will of a witch. Muddied blooded creatures you are.” Lilura have him a harsh look but before she could speak, a form appeared before her. It was a man in silk robes dated way before her time, his long raven hair cascading over his black feathery wings that shielding her from view.
“Then bend to the will of a creature beyond your years, mutt. My mistress has summoned you here as my envoy and I will not have her disrespected. “ Korro’s voice was deep and multi-leveled, echoing in the room like a thunder clap. It obviously made the wolf take a pause and even move a step back from her.
Lilura gave Korro’s arm a light touch, before moving beside him with her head bent respectfully in his direction. He did own her soul after all. “Please, Mr. Falk. I’m only here to help. And I want to get justice for you and for your daughter.” Noah paused, his expression contorting in pain briefly. She knew she had him. “She deserves to know her father’s killer will pay...please don’t let your death be some dark mystery for her in the future.” She watched the wolf mull it over before he nodded and looked to her with wide, clouded eyes.
“Speak your questions, witch.”
Lilura gave a small sigh, trying to ignore Korro’s watching blood red eyes that peered at her from under the raven mask.
“Who killed you?” She asked and the corpse gave a rumbling sound of confusion.
“I don’t know. They wore shadows when they came to me in the night. I never saw their face.” She cursed under her breath. They had to have used a spell to cloak themselves. That would explain the odd iconography all around them.
“Lastly, What do you remember the night of the murder?” She asked and the corpse gave a growl like murmur before speaking.
“I checked into the motel. My wife threw me out after I lost control. I promised I would stop using—it doesn’t sit well with the beast blood.” He said, looking at the puncture marks on his arms. “I met my dealer here and she paid for me to stay here a month, to get myself clean. I just used one more time to get rid of the shakes. I must of passed out because when I woke up there was this pain in my stomach. It burned like hell. I tried to shout but something was blocking my mouth. I saw this completely black figure with a knife carving me open, muttering in some freaky language. I remember trying to change, trying to fight back but I just—the cold and the dark got too heavy and I—“ his form began to flicker and Lilura felt a tear roll down her cheek as he desperately looked at her. “No no I don’t want to go! Bring me back! You can do that!” He ran at her and Lilura tensed with wide eyes as the spirit lumbered at her. “I have to tell Emily I’m sorry. That I live her and little Cassidy. Please—“ The spirit grabbed Lilura’s arm making her scream as a searing icy pain ran through her that drove her to the ground. In an instant, Korro’s hand flicked out, cutting the spirit down with a bolt of dark lightning that made it fade to ash. Lilura sat cradling her hurt arm where a bruise would no doubt be forming on her physical form. Korro looked down at her with a glare of obvious contempt before pacing away from her.
“A punishment for connecting too closely with the dead. Your second warning.” Korro said as he faded from her view, leaving Lilura to be swallowed by the smoke.
Lilura came back to her body with a gasp, startling the officer that was watching her with a pale expression from the doorway. She straightened herself up, trying to hide her shaking as she collected her things and refused to look at the body. “His name is Noah Falk of the Falk pack. Please send any documents, witness statement, and photos to my office. I’m going to meet with the chief.” She said bluntly, pushing past the woman who looked completely frightened of her. Lilura left the motel room with her satchel and Korro still resting on her shoulder.
“You know you’re an ass sometimes.” She said, making the raven caw. To the world around her it sounded as a raven should. To Lilura it was a dark, antagonizing laughter.
~~~**~~**~~~
The darkness outside of the large penthouse on one of the tallest towers was a pleasant sight despite the party raging within the space. Vampires from every house assembled to commemorate the anniversary of the wars ending and the alliances that formed between long splintered clans. They set aside their differences to meet one goal. To stand strong against all others so that no vampire clan would ever be wiped out again. Othello rather liked the sentiment, but knew the promise and alliance was as empty as his glass of wine at the moment. No one in vampire society saw the whole as equal and no clan or family regarded another as their brother or sister. They saw them as competition or useful to some end. So while they played games of fake smiles and well hidden threats hidden as compliments, he preferred to play his games of attention to detail and enjoyment of the festivity. He even smiled pleasantly at a vampiress who crossed his line of sight, making the woman eye him in regard before flirtatiously motioning him over. Before Othello could leave the dry conversation he was apart of, a light, yet firm make voice halted him in his tracks.
“How my son’s eyes wander to the lowest of the Aurelia clan’s daughters...as if he hadn’t learned and played this game long enough to realize her gown is four season old. Telling indeed of her standards...and yours.” The backbiting comment was laced neatly in a pleasant tone, as if the man next to him were remarking on the beauty of the crystal chandelier above them rather than insulting his child. Othello gave his father a smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I was merely admiring her forwardness. The higher ranking clan daughters are all boring and like to play games no one has time for these days, father. Dress or not, you cannot fake confidence that well.” He said and Lord Everleigh gave a tap of a sharp nail on his glass, flicking a strand of pink hair over his shoulder.
“No but it is easier to fake confidence with outward stupidity, my son. A lesson I thought you learned when you were much younger. ” Othello’s eye twitched and there was a moment he felt like he could easily take his glass and gut the old bat before he had a chance to react. But that would be murder...and murder was unbecoming of a social event and showed too much passion that his father hardly deserved. His posture eased and he simply nodded at his father’s dig. He knew the old man was always critical, even if people he liked. It was his personality and his joy in life. Making others feel beneath him was a sport to the man, hence why leadership was his dream and his intended deathbed it seemed.
“Speaking of the young, Othello. Where is my grandson? Should he not be socializing with the elite he will soon join?” Othello saw the harsh criticism behind his father’s stare and knew no excuse Othello had for Alarik’s absence would suffice. The old man loved to show off his prizes and Othello and Alarik made the dry, sour man look good to the other house leaders.
“He wished to celebrate the news with his friends. I allowed it as there will be plenty of time for mingling after his change.” Othello heard his father give a haughty ‘hmph’ before retrieving a glass of blood infused wine from a human waitress that passed by.
“His obsession with those mortals is disgraceful. Were I his teacher I would have straightened that out long ago.” Othello gave his father a prideful look, knowing the man didn’t approve of his raising of Alarik, but Othello did his best to make the boy a kind and accepting man. That was the future their society needed, not to be stuck in the darkness of hate of Lord Everleigh’s time.
“With all due respect, father. His obsession has maintained alliances with the elite of the human society. They see great promise in immortals willing to meet on common ground.” He said before leaving the man’s side. Othello wouldn’t let the man spoil his evening no matter how hard the dusty old vampire tried.
~~~**~~**~~~
Thumping music, the smell of heavy smoke and strong alcohol, and the warmth of the bodies around them sent Luca’s mind into a spiral. Even after being born as a werewolf, it was no easier to dull his senses to the chaos around him in this world. It was times like these that he thought back to the quiet of the forests and the icy winters he spent with his mother’s family. Things were just so simple then...much simpler than they felt with his father’s family—well pack was a better word. Those people never felt like family or even cared to accept him as family. They just saw his mixed heritage and saw him as a threat to their reputation. He had heard one pack member muttering they could smell his filthy blood on him like a musk he couldn’t wash away. Not that he cared...his mother was twice the person these people could ever hope to be. She saw a light in the world that Luca tried to find for himself. For now, that light and excitement was in this mixed club with his friends. One such friend was by his side as they casually talked it up with each other. It was odd to see a werewolf and vampire initiate so casually talking to each other, but Alarik was his best friend regardless of what he was to become. The vampire initiate was a kindhearted thing with a soft soul that seemed so fragile, like it could be broken by a harsh word. He knew Alarik was stronger than that, but he also knew his friend struggled with the choice to become a vampire. They all knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter truly. It was the only life he ever knew. But Luca felt akin to his friend’s feeling of choices being made for them. He wanted to be that person his friend could rely on to support him through his choices, as Alarik had been for him the first day they met. It had been a gala event he was covering for the newspaper. A few wolves were giving him hell when the small but fierce mortal man had gotten in their way. He defended Luca fiercely till the wolves backed off, spewing threats about him being their next prey. The obvious threat didn’t even seem to rattle him as the young mortal offered to be his body guard that night. Their friendship grew from that moment into a support system that Luca didn’t think he could make it in his family without. He was sure Alarik felt the same and had tried to spread that support network out to others. Luca tried to understand that as he dragged Elijah into their small group. Luca didn’t know exactly how or why a guy like Eli had anything to do with a guy like Alarik, but he accepted his friend’s judgement and put his affection and trust into the mean warlock. Despite Eli’s sharp edges, Luca could sense he had grown on the man. He went from threatening to incinerate him if he didn’t stop texting him to tolerating outings with the group. Alarik and Luca all the while were pleased to have a new friend and to hang out together with no outside pressures. Like tonight, Luca was free of his family issues and just enjoying his life as a young immortal in the city.
“How do you suppose he does that?” Alarik said suddenly, his eyes on Eli from across the room. Luca blinked and squinted past the strobe lights to see the warlock chatting up a vampiress and a human male, obviously heavily flirting by his stance and the daring smile on his lips. It made Luca shrug since the cold man was hard to read on most days. They both knew he had a flirtatious side that didn’t adhere to any preference. It was just surprising to see the man do a 180 all at once.
“Hexes I believe. I think he charms them and lures them off to suck out their souls.” Luca said as he went back to his drink, making Alarik give a half laugh.
“Warlocks don’t eat souls Luca. Demons do. But, he is devilishly charming. I should get him to teach me a trick or two. This dry spell is going to be the end of me.” Luca heard this odd distance in Alarik’s tone as he watched the warlock flirt his way into leading his two catches off for whatever he had in store. The change in Alarik made Luca give him a nudge and a curious look.
“Ah it will all work out. You vampires have that dark and mysterious charm about you that the everyone goes crazy for. Well everyone except me of course. Shifty creeps.” He teased, making Alarik’s eyes drift from Eli to Luca with a smirk.
“You know we vampires make good companions. You won’t know what you’re missing till you try. I could set you up with some gorgeous vampiresses from good families.” Alarik teased back and Luca gave a roll of his eyes.
“Yeah that will be the day my dad skins me alive. No thank you.” He perked up when the song changed to something he recognized, making him grin and tug Alarik along to go dance instead of holding up the wall.
~~~**~~**~~~
The sounds of lust and depravity from the private lounge room were drowned out by the music outside and inside the room. No one would bother to investigate anyways after seeing the rather wealthy vampiress and two human lovers entering her reserved space. She had a good standing in the human and immortal thanks to her husband’s money. The same money she used to pay for private hotel rooms and club rooms to play with her human lover and anyone else she could lure into her bed. Infidelity wasn’t necessarily a bad thing in the immortal world..but flaunting it openly and using her husband’s money to care for the mortal man had fueled a bit of jealousy and spite. Which was where Eli came in. Her husband had paid him a handsome sum to put the vampiress back in line and scare the human off. It wasn’t hard, just a hex here and a little illusion there. But first, he had to have a sufficient material to tie the ritual to the unfortunate pair. What better than their blood? Why not have a little fun in the process of getting it. A little nick here and love bite there, put together with the euphoria poison mixed in their drinks and the pair would be none the wiser. As they slept off the effects, disheveled on the couch, Eli slipped back on his clothes and slipped the vials into his pocket. The ritual would be more accurate now and he hardly liked messy rituals. It was bad for business. As he left the room, he didn’t mind the few looks he got, especially the ones of interest in the warlock and the ones of disgust. He knew he had a pretty face even if it changed slightly often enough due to the glamor he kept on his person to hide his identity. He was fine with being glared at or admired by the supernatural or mortal eyes that thought they had the power to judge him. Little did they know he could turn their little hearts to stone, their blood to fire, their tongues to ash, and they brains to jelly if he so pleased. He was too much for their minds to comprehend, so he let them think he was comprehendible. All the better to keep himself on top in this morally grey little world. He found the two he had been using as a cover easily. He notes to himself that the vampire initiate looked put off by something despite his grin and the werewolf, blissfully unaware as ever, was dancing to the beat of some screeching song that made Eli’s head hurt. Before he could comment something about Alarik’s off behavior, Luca pulled him into the dance floor to Eli’s shock. The big oaf was stronger than him and Eli hardly wanted to tear his arm off or kill the man responsible for keeping police and witch hunters off his trail. So he fell into the normal behavior, finding a nearby mortal girl to dance with rather than the werewolf treating him like a rag doll.