City of IF

[Dean]

I voted the second option. More interesting to keep Greg unbitten for a while. Nice story so far, by the way.

[Kalanna Rai]

Any last votes?

[Kalanna Rai]

I'm sensing a soft-spot in this crowd for Greg, we'll see how that works out. Oh and I suppose it's time to introduce some of the 'help' that Travis sent for. Enjoy!
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Chapter 10: The Cowboy

Greg backed away from his boss, eyes wide, hands upraised as if that would ward the vampire off. He backed straight into a chair, toppling into it as he lost his balance. Suddenly Shelly was between him and Vick. Strangely enough Vick hadn't moved a muscle, his expression slightly confused. Like a man offering someone a chocolate and not knowing the person had allergies.

"Oh no you don't mister." Shelly waved a finger at the vampire. "You just leave Greg alone. He might have served me up as a hot meal but that doesn't mean I'm going to return the favor...yet." This last part she added with a slant-wize gaze at Greg. Greg missed this as he was attempting to be one with the chair, you don't see me I'm not here type thing.

Vick opened his mouth to say something but Shelly didn't give him the oppertunity. In full 'pissed off bitch' mode, she continued on so quickly Vick wouldn't have been able to his word in edgewise had he used a can of Crisco and a shoe-horn. Hands on hips, elbows akimbo, she delivered a lip-blistering tirade.

"You know what? I'm getting pretty damn sick of vampires as a whole. You're all assholes, you know? You run around biting people who, as general members of society, don't need the emotional bullcrap! Why don't you do humanity a favor and pick off the scumbags, the bastards. Ya know, pedophiles and crap!"

Greg didn't miss the look that crossed Vick's face at Shelly's suggestion. He looked like a man that had just been served manure on a silver platter. About to vomit. "Uh, Shelly..." he gave up the moment the words were out of his mouth. The look in her eyes was all to familiar. Sorta like a really angry wolverine.

"Hey, I've got an idea. I know the name of a bastard who really could deserve to have someone munch on his neck and give him nightmares for the rest of his life. His name is Dirk and he-"

Nobody in the room could have guessed that Greg could move that fast, not even Greg himself, as he came out of the chair and tackled Shelly to the ground. He clamped a hand over her mouth as he pinned her hands benieth their bodies. Then, suddenly, he was back in the chair with Shelly in the chair next to him. Hurled lightly with incredible force.

Vick looked at both of them and was obviously hurt. "All you needed to say was no." He pulled out a cellphone and hit a speed dial number. He wandered away from them, toward the door of the shop, talking in low tones into the phone. Then he snapped it shut with an audible click and pulled the door open. He paused and stared at them. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Where?" Greg asked, perplexed and slightly ashamed.

Vick gave a long suffering sigh. "Dinner, breakfast, whatever meal you want to call it. I just ordered mine and I know of an excellent place for you and Shelly." His face tightened again. "Or am I too big an asshole to be seen in public with?"

Shelly had the grace to flush bright red as she stood and Greg shook his head. "I guess I'm sorry doesn't cover it huh? But...you'll have to give me some time to get used to the whole 'undead creatures of the night' thing. Maybe in the future I wouldn't be opposed to it but-"

"Let's just drop it and pretend it never happened?" Vick said quietly as they exited the shop. "Now, I think you'll love the 'Caboose'. I hear Dot has a way with biscuts that drive men wild."
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Gunner woke knowing Travis was still asleep. He yawned until his jaw cracked and stretched expansively before shuffling into the other room. He scratched his scalp as he went, then his back, banishing the itches he always had on waking. His sharp eyes noted the figure stretched out on the lumpy couch and he stifled the instant urge to pick Travis up and find him a more comfortable bed. Instead Gunner loomed over him, standing at his side and staring down at Travis as he rested.

He realized suddenly that this was the first time he'd stood like this, over his sleeping Master, and not felt the hastily throttled urge to kill him. Gunner could feel the memories that had come with Travis' blood pounding against his skull but he wasn't sure he wanted to experiance them. Gunner and Henri had never gotten along for obvious reasons. Clashes of personality, world view, and taste in just about everything under the sun.

Gunner hadn't expected to like Travis when he'd first met him, indeed he'd disliked him the moment he'd first set eyes on him. Henri's latest little toy as pretty as the first two, prettier even. Then he'd taken a good long look into those mysterious hazel eyes and the first quiver of doubt had taken root. There'd been steel in that gaze. Steel that Travis had proved many times over later.

The big Viking rubbed his crag-like chin, scratching the skin through his thick beard. He felt...different since Travis had taken over the Bond. The bond was there, proof plain in the way Gunner knew Travis was resting and the fact he didn't need any of his senses to tell him how far away from his Master he was. But it didn't press into his soul with barbed venom. It didn't choke off his thoughts, his feelings. It was like the thinnest of tethers, there but ignorable. No doubt the only reason he felt it so acutely now was the fact it was new and a startling contrast to the Bond that had ruled his life for one thousand years.

Slowly he shuffled across the room and retrieved his guitar case, opening it to pull free his massive axe. Then he slowly crossed back and knelt beside Travis, the axe standing sentinal between them. His voice was deep, the language rough and gutteral as he spoke words long dead. "Minn handleggr eða minn øx fúss. Minn krellr gráðr. Minn lysta, til mega þjóna minn þengill. Minn eiðr þessi."

As the words of Old Norse vanished in the air, Gunner realized Travis was no longer asleep. He stood up quickly and backed away, bowing his head as the small man sat up. "I'm sorry to wake you M-boss..."

"You called me your king Gunner." His hazel eyes were intense upon the Viking causing Gunner to nod slowly.

"Já." he said, purposfully using the old, harsh version of his usual affermative. "Compared to Maxis, you are a king. A just man." He shifted his weight, bringing his axe into a better position. "And you have my oath."

Travis stared at him for a moment then, with closed eyes, slowly inclined his head. "Ykkarr eiðr játa." he said, his the harsh cadences of the Viking speech rolling off his tongue. Gunners mouth dropped open in shock as Travis smiled at him. "I take it Maxis never bothered to use the language?"

Gunner swallowed and grinned savagely. "I never gave Maxis my oath."

Travis nodded slowly, then turned, lips twitching in a smile. The shrilling ring of a phone broke the silence and Travis fished it out of the pocket of his duster, flipping it open. The smile stretched wider as the person on the other end spoke to him and Travis snorted softly, repeating directions to the shop into the receiver before snapping it shut. Reaching up he tweaked the pendant around his neck. Light flashed in the room, blinding Gunner for a moment.

When the big Viking could see again, he found Travis pulling the duster on over his 'combat armor'. "So that's what it's for. A powerful magic you possess."

Travis made a negligent gesture. "I didn't make it. I was just lucky enough to earn it." He turned, heading for the stairs. "And anyway now is not the time to discuss where I keep my things. Now is time to prepare. Jim's nearly here and the time has come for the talk to turn to war."

Gunner waited for Travis to ascend the stairs before he returned his axe to it's resting place, shouldering the guitar case. "Dreyri vili renna." he said softly then repeated in english for emphasis. "Blood will run."
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Greg and Shelly returned with Vick much later in the evening, relaxed and feeling good. The debacle of earlier had been forgotten as they'd shared a meal. With the exception of Vick who'd left for a few minutes then returned looking much more...alive. The 'Caboose Cafe' was an amazing little diner and, for a vampire who was limited to a strict blood only diet, Dot cooked some surprisingly tasty food. They were laughing a bit and in general good spirits as they rounded the corner onto the shops street.

Then Vick stopped dead, causing Shelly and Greg to both stop and look at him. "What? You forget something?" Greg asked then looked closer. "And is it normal for you to suddenly be so white?"

Vick pointed to the Harley panhead parked outside the shop. "The Cowboy is here." A shiver ran over him. "I knew Travis had sent for him, even suggested Travis send for him but..." his words trailed away and he shook his head.

Shelly laughed and moved back to link an arm with Vick. "Oh don't worry. Travis can handle him if he gets out of line." Then she bit her lip and looked worriedly at Vick. "He can...can't he?"

Vick nodded. "The Cowboy is powerful but Travis he is not. Otherwise it would be his territory I resided in instead of living in the shadow of Bloody Rose." He started forward again. "Come. They have sensed us by now and it would be rude to turn away or linger."

Exchanging one more 'oh shit' glance, Greg and Shelly followed behind as Vick walked purposefully toward the shop, wondering what they might find within. Each step forward they took allowed their brains to conjure more and more horrible images, terrible plots, and sinister goings on that they might be walking into innocently. Even if nothing was wrong it was still one more pair of fangs to contend with and who knew how hungry this 'Cowboy' might be.

The jingle of the shops bell might as well have been the iron bell of doom tolling and both humans winced as the light conversation stopped. Their eyes were drawn to the corner where Travis, once more dressed to kill, sat with Odysseus on his lap and Gunner leaning against the wall near his shoulder. But it was the third man that drew their gazes.

He had light brown hair, liberally mixed with grey, and one of those deeply weather worn faces that only the oldest of salts had in this day and age. His Stetson hat was sitting on the table next to the open bottle of Jack. A long tan trenchcoat, the kind cattle ranchers and horseback hunters still used in torrential rains, hung over the back of his chair. His Levi's were well worn and mostly covered with leather riding chaps, his boots western with their coffin toes and raised heels. His blue denim shirt was open two buttons to expose a few curling chest hairs and the sleeves were rolled up to the elbow to expose brawny forearms.

A massive mustache, straight out of a Henry Ford western, covered his upper lip and thick stubble graced his chin, cheeks, and throat. Blue eyes twinkled at them from a nest of laugh lines and the mustache twitched in what must have been a smile. "Well don't you all look scared to death. Why don't you come take a load off, I promise I won't bite."

His voice was deep and, as Greg had predicted, had a drawl that would have impressed Sam Elliot. But he seemed a rather likable fellow, all things considerd, his easy manner instantly relaxing all of them. It wasn't until they were almost to the table that Greg noticed the belts of bullets hanging under the coat, the two ivory handled hand-guns of obvious western design hanging off the man's hips. His mouth went dry as he instantly pictured an old west style shootout. Hell he could practically smell the Old West exuding off this man.

Then a massive, roughly calloused hand was being thrust toward him. "I'm Jim partner. What's yer name?"

Greg managed to stammer out his name as his own hand was swallowed by Jim's massive grip. Pulling it back with a wince as Jim repeated the action for Vick and inclined his head with a very poilte 'Ma'am' to Shelly. Then he turned back to Travis, Greg and the others forgotten.

"An it's Preacher, you're sure?"

"I've got the e-mail to prove it Jim. Maxis wants my fangs to adorn his chamber pot with and he's not going to stop until he gets them."

Jim scratched his chin and that action drew Greg's attention to the five o'clock shadow that now decorated Travis' own jaw. He shifted in his seat, knowing that Travis already knew exactly what he thought of that. Normally he wasn't a fan of facial hair but...

Travis let a hand hit the table with a bang, startling Greg out of his thoughts and making him flush guiltily. Yet when he spoke, he wasn't adressing his admirer. "We already know that Preacher could be here tonight, he's close enough. He's probably hoping to make me sweat by waiting and he's damn well doing a good job of it. Taking out Prophet was one of those sheer 'idot luck' moments Jim. I know that on my own I've got the slimmest of shots against Preach. That's why I called you and the others."

Jim nodded. "Sensible and you know there's no love lost between the Precher and myself. And we've got Gunner here. Speaking of Gunner, a toast my friend, to trading in a bad Master for a better one." He slammed down a shot as Travis raised his own Coke with an amused look in his eyes.

Jim wiped his lips and kicked back. "Well then I suppose we've only got two options. Wait for him to come to us, and hope the others you called show, or go looking for him and hope the three of us are enough."
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Well folks what's the plan of action. Go? Stay? Or do you have something else up your brains for me?
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Sorry it took so long, hope it was worth it!

[Lilith]

Hmmmm.... go looking for trouble right now, wait for back-up and pray trouble doesn't come to you...

Very tough decisions...

I'd have to favor lurking as quietly as possible, stay in haunts that are lesser known and putting ears to the ground

But, *evil grin* while we wait,

Maybe we could call in another favor from a spy that's in Maxis's midst? Someone Maxis wouldn't suspect either.... and maybe even a surprise to Travis as well...

[DeadManWalking]

wait for reinforcements.

cuz reinforcements are always good.

Plus the fact that they consider the NEED for reinforcements when it's already three-on-one, means that they probably need them.

good chappie as usual rai.

[scissorkitty]

What about another option? I always like three choices.

If the reinforcements don't come.... what about a makeshift crew? What about Dot? OR what about baiting a trap? Instead of waiting, and instead of fetching.

[Lilith]

*screams* HELLO?! RAI? GET A CHAPTER UP SOON MISSY OR I'LL BE GOING ASSASSIN HUNTING!

[Kalanna Rai]

Oh whine and complain. *Grins* Here's your poll. Might even be a short one depending...

[Kalanna Rai]

Aw, it's a tie. Looks like we gotta wait for another vote...

[Kalanna Rai]

Well the tie remained so now Rai must be creative...excellent! Enjoy.
Warning: Adult Themes. Reader discretion is advised.
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Chapter Eleven: The Preacher-Man Cometh

Gunner growled. "I say we take the fight to-" he broke off as Travis flicked a finger.

"That's what he'll expect me to do. I'm not the most patient vampire in the world and I've never yet run when the battle lines are drawn. He'll be waiting for me to track him down and when I find him, I'll be fighting the battle on the ground of his choice." He cut them both a very dirty look. "I don't think so."

"Well then what are you going to do about it my friend?" Jim asked, swishing his moustache a little. "You know damn well he'll come looking for you eventually."

Travis nodded. "And I know that even when he finds me he won't attack until he's sure the conditions favor him. It'll be someplace I'm hampered, a crowd or closed space where my speed isn't going to be worth a damn."

Greg cleared his throat and was instantly uncomfortable as three pairs of over-intense eyes locked on him. "What about luring him out? Setting a trap for him on ground of your choosing in conditions that favor you?" He stood a little straighter as their heads began nodding. "All you need is something he can't resist, other than Travis, we already know he's going to be wary around you." He said pointing a finger absently at the vampire.

Jim slapped his knee. "Whoo, boy's got a point. I can see why you favor him Travis."

Travis opened his mouth to say something but shut it again, putting a hand on Gunner's chest to restrain both physical and verbal defense. "Humm, yes. Gunner, do you think that Preacher might want to 'play' with Greg a little?"

The big Viking eased back, chuckling in a dark fashion that made Greg wish he were wearing a turtle neck with an iron collar. "Da Boss, I can see where Preacher would be interested."

Greg stood slowly, backing toward Vick and Shelly, who were both looking as worried and uncomfortable as he was. Then Travis was there, heart-stoppingly near, resting one of his hands on Greg's shoulder. "I've been a very decent person toward you up till now, you owe me Greg."

Travis smiled and, hard as he looked, Greg could see no trace of fang. He relaxed just a smidgen until the vampire chuckled.

"Oh I don't want to bite you, although admittedly I could use the energy. I'm going to use you as bait."
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They were all in position around the park. It wasn't really a park, more a small splotch of green surrounded by high walls and condemned buildings. Forgotten and left to rot. It was the kind of place where deals for drugs and more 'pleasurable' things went down. It was just the kind of hunting ground one might find Preacher stalking, looking for his favorite meal. Greg was sitting on the half rotten bench, head between his knees like any other man a little too drunk, or high, to carry on.

His clothing, however, screamed something else. He wore heavy boots similar to the ones on Travis feet save that they were much more battered with no metal, generally less impressive looking. His pants were tight leather, contributed by Emerald who, for reasons she would not explain, seemed to keep quite the selection of Menswear. By far the oddest thing he wore was the bright pink shirt, skin tight, that was emblazoned with the message 'Pinch Me I Squeal' in rainbow letters. His hair had been snipped and hastily gelled and looked quite decent, actually attractive. But that was the whole point, he was supposed to look attractive to just the wrong person. Preacher.

Jim had taken up a post in the only vacant doorway, hidden well back in the shadows, revolvers in hand and clear lines of sight all across the park. Travis had sighed at the sight of the guns and the look that had passed between them clearly bespoke an age old argument. But neither of them had brought it up. Now, with the brim of his hat pulled low on his squinted eyes, he looked like a modern day desperado ready to go out with a hail of gunfire.

Gunner was in the back corner of the park itself, wedged against the crumbling brickwork of two old buildings. His axe was free of its case and its massive double-bladed head rested on the ground at his feet. His hands gripped the hilt easily, fingers laced around the shaft. His head was bowed, almost in prayer, yet he stared fixedly at Greg through the scraggly shag of his hair.

Travis was by far the best hidden. He sat on the ledge of a nearby roof, crouched in mimicry of the two gargoyles that brushed his shoulders. His keen eyes could see the two deserted streets that passed the park and the rooftops that surrounded it. Once hand clutched the ledge between his feet, the other rested easily atop his left knee. His fedora was tipped just so, shading his eyes and looking like an oddly domed crest.

All three were nervous, none more so than Greg. He couldn't see this ending happily for him and he felt like a moron in these clothes. He wasn't flagrant about himself, he certainly didn't advertise in the classifieds, and he was repulsed that he was now acting like a 'flaming faggot'. A drunk one at that. And he was waiting like an oddly wrapped bon-bon for some vampire old enough, powerful enough, and flat out scary enough to have made all the vampires he'd met so far jumpy. Oh yes, things were just peachy.

Worse, the most powerful of the three was perched several stories up with no quick way down except jumping. And when Greg had asked, Travis had assured him wholeheartedly that jumping from such a height would shatter his body below the waist, and probably parts above it. Then he'd smiled and said that he had no intention of jumping. Which left what? Climbing down like some sort of spider? Or did he plan on using his speed to attempt some sort of Matrix-esque wall run? Greg sighed and decided it didn't matter any more.

He was just about to reach up and scratch the itch that had been building at the base of his neck when it got very, very cold. The itchy sensation intensified as every hair on the back of his neck stood up and his skin decided it wanted to be in Tahiti and attempted to crawl off of him. He suddenly realized that someone was standing in front of him, wearing a long garment of some kind, and he slowly looked up.

The man wasn't tall, he was shorter than Greg, and had a decidedly Spanish flair to his features. He was slim, trim, and neatly groomed. He had that moustache, goatee combo you see in all those old movies about 18th century Spain, and was wearing a long, black...Greg couldn't describe it. It was a robe of some kind, with a high collar and shiny black buttons down the front, long sleeves, and a hem that swept the ground. The man smiled, revealing pearly white teeth, and cocked his head to the side. A large wooden crucifix hung on a hempen cord around his neck, gleaming softly in the light of the single streetlamp. "Are you lonely my Son?"

Greg's mouth must have fallen open because now his throat was dry and he licked his lips, swallowing convulsively. The Spanish man held out a hand with an elegant gesture, fingering the button on Greg's collar. "You seem to have gone out of your way to make yourself known. Discretion should not be forsaken simply for personal indulgence."

Suddenly he was on his feet, the smaller man pressed against him uncomfortably, his intentions very plain in such close quarters. And they had nothing to do with biting Greg. Suddenly he was flung away, the gunshot echoing almost instantaneously with the movement as the man dodged Jim's first bullet. "Cowboy." he hissed flatly as Jim stepped out of the doorway, both barrels sighted.

"Preacher. Still up to your old tricks."

Preacher gave a sour smile. "Ah, I suppose this is the Americans new plaything then? It must be eating him alive to have his tastes exposed. But then who did he think he was fooling? His Maker was Henri after all..."

He whirled quickly, bringing up a hand and gripping the shaft of Gunners axe as the big man brought it to bear in a massive, double-handed sweep and stopping it cold. "Ah Gunner, I was wondering where you were lurking. I could smell your unwashed body a block away." He frowned and stepped back a pace as the big Viking ripped his axe free with a grunt. "Where's your Master?"

"He didn't feel he needed to deal with filth like you. He's busy with other things." Gunner said with a dark laugh, whirling his axe about again and causing Preacher to dodge to the side.

Suddenly the big Viking was choking, a bullet hole in his neck, and Preacher was laughing sadistically. "Ah I believe you now Gunner. Travis has many faults but an attack so poorly executed as THAT one would not have been one of them."

Greg looked to where Jim was shaking his head, as if blaming Gunner that the big man hadn't evaded the shot when it had missed Preacher. Gunner stood, spitting out something silver, and wiped the blood away from his neck, licking some off of his fingers and smearing the rest on his axe. The metal came awake with a roar and the Viking smiled grimly, raising it above his head and roaring his own challenge.

Preacher stepped forward, aiming a blow at Gunner, and then nimbly dodged aside as the big man charged. Gunner's blows had no rhythm or reason. He was gone, berserk and frothing at the mouth. His fangs were fully extended and he actually snapped at Preacher when his violent swings brought him close enough. Greg, meanwhile, had gotten the hell out of combat and pressed himself against the wall. He looked upward, toward Travis's perch, and nearly screamed. Travis was gone, only two grinning gargoyles remained.

Jim charged into combat, yelling something and wielding a civil war era cavalry sabre of all things. And now came the true horrors. Preacher would dodge deep inside Gunners reach and leave himself open to Jim's strikes. It didn't take long for the two allies to injure each other, for their blood to mix with Preachers on the pavement. And all Greg could think of was where in the hell was Travis.

A raven spiraled above the combat, odd since they were not nocturnal birds by nature, and drew Greg's eyes. It circled lower and lower, weak light glinting off something at its throat. Just as Greg's brain made the connection between the winking object on the raven and Travis necklace, the bird was gone and Travis was dropping onto the combat, swords in hands.

"HOLY SHIT!" Greg yelled before he clapped his hands over his mouth. He should have guessed, there were myths about vampires turning into animals, but he was sure it was just bats. He'd never heard of a vampire that turned into a raven before.

Travis struck downwards, parrying both Gunner and Jim, and connecting a double boot kick to Preachers face. Then he was flying backward as the Spaniard struck him and he barely managed to turn himself in the air. Instead of landing on his back he skidded away on the flat of one foot and a knee, swords out to his sides. He paused for a moment, looking like he was going to leap up off the ground and kick some ass. But it didn't quite work out that way.

He jumped up, or must have judging by the move Preacher executed, but instead he ended up smashing against the wall next to Greg. Preacher had dodged his strike, caught his ankle, and hurled him there. And suddenly Preacher had him by the throat, whirling him around and hurling him at both Jim and Gunner. The big Viking, sensing his Master, dropped his axe and caught Travis, turning and blocking Preachers next blow with a slab-like shoulder while Jim made a stab.

Preacher ducked away, laughing. "You three are pathetic. You cannot beat me! Maxis has made me more powerful than you could dream."

Travis pushed away from Gunner, glaring at the older vampire. "Maxis has done nothing for you Preacher. It's the blood of all those he's had you hunt down." he smiled. "Trust me, I know. I've got Prophet right here with me." He tapped the center of his chest, smile taking on a grim cast. "And you'll never get him back."

His words touched a nerve and Preacher screamed something in Latin...or was it Spanish? Greg didn't know and his human eyes couldn't follow the fight except in fits and slashes when the action would slow or come to a halt. Gunner went flying at one point, massive form crushing the rotten bench, and Jim was impaled on the wall with his own sabre. One of the silver blades Travis wielded landed, quivering, in the concrete between Greg's feet.

And then it was just the two of them. Travis was ripped and bloody, not just his clothing. His face was marred by three jagged slashes that were rapidly welding themselves together, one hand hung uselessly by his side, that arm nearly severed at the elbow. His feet were wide, his stance weary, and he was gasping for breath. Preacher looked almost unruffled. His hair a little disheveled, his robes a little torn and bloodied and a deep cut on his neck. Travis had nearly beheaded him at one point.

He chuckled and inclined his head to his battered foe. "Any last words Travis Rose?"

Now it was Travis' turn to chuckle, a smile curving his lips. And now Greg saw them for the first time, glittering slightly. Travis fangs. "Yes Armand, there I've a little something for you." He wobbled a bit as he straightened up. "It's going to rain."

The other vampire opened his mouth to say something and instead turned a horrified gaze to the clouds above as the first drops spattered him. A sizzling sound was heard, small twists of smoke rising from his flesh where the water struck it. Gunner stirred, groaning, and Jim desperately tried to pull himself off of the wall. Travis, meanwhile, grinned wider and stalked forward. He swept his sword upward and it made a hissing noise as it drug across the pavement, throwing sparks.

Preacher turned, tried to run, and stumbled. The rain began to pound down now and Travis laughed, catching the older vampire by the hair and yanking his head back. For a moment they were eye to eye. "H..how? All of Maxis line are the foe of water?"

"Ah but Armand, you forget. I spent some years in Mai Lien's court. I picked up a thicker skin."

Preacher's lips peeled back off of his fangs in a weak snarl. "Bastard. I'll see you in hell."

"You'll join Prophet first." Travis said before he ruthlessly sank his fangs into Preachers throat. Greg looked away, he couldn't watch Travis feed. It churned his stomach and yet, it also pulled him in. Turned off and on all at once, it was total confusion.

A few minutes later, as Gunner and Jim huddled in the doorway, Travis stalked over to Greg. The arm seemed fine as he pulled his sword out of the pavement, his eyes intense when he met Greg's gaze. "Good job out there." he said before walking over to the others.

Greg looked after him then scanned his eyes across the battlefield. Nothing remained except Travis fedora, turned upward and gathering rainwater. He dashed over and grabbed it, shaking it to clear as much water off of it as he could. He reached the others in time to hear Travis saying "...and that's what he told Preacher."

Gunner snarled. "If that's the case then you need to get in touch with Mai Lien as soon as you can Boss. Maxis will kill us all if he's allowed to succeed."

"What?" Greg asked. "How?"

Travis looked at him angrily. "He's going to go public."
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Well, that's certainly not going to fly. But how are our hero's going to stop Maxis? And what dangers can they expect along the way?
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A bit of a plot twist there but I hope you liked!

[DeadManWalking]

HOLY SHIT!!!!

did not expect that.

no idea for a DP tho.

good job

[Hak]

....K-rai..... Still Greg's lonely..... You should fix that soon.

again, you should do a crossover! Charming bounds randomly into the scene...


Naw, I think they should fight two more goons, then go on an epic journey in which Greggy-poop "accedentally" gets this magical STD, on their way to a weapon to kill Maxis.

or they could all just die and Greg and his match (youknowwho) run off all sweeney todd-like. OH!!! One of em should sing that "joannah" song as well!!!!!!

"I'll steal you, Greggy-poo. Do they think that walls can hide you? Even now I'm at your window. I am in the dark beside you, buried sweetly in your yellow hair!"~CrazyStalkerFromSweeneyTodd

[Lilith]

.... *smiles* Let him go public. No one is going to believe the man, he'll just be carted off to the white room with bouncy walls or hunted down by scientists or the FBI...

Let him.

Enjoy my suggestion, Kalanna dear... *wanders off*

[DeadManWalking]

I don't think that's the whole story Lils.

He probably has some kind of proof.

or nobody would really take him seriously right?

[Kalanna Rai]

He is the proof. Most people who claim they're vampires use lifestyle and blood drinking as their proof. Maxis can do significantly more than that. Plus, he's got minions who HAVE to do as he says. They can back it up too...

In short, bad bad news...

[Lilith]

I stand by my DP suggestion, let him. He's bluffing. Seriously. To throw himself against the will of ALL the other vampire courts in the world? How stupid can he be? Honestly.. the numbers don't favor Maxis... unless he truly has gone mad in his little vendetta against Travis and now someone else is pulling his strings to get him killed on purpose to take his place.... a new seat of power opening?...

I'll be watching you with this dragoness... think wisely....

[Kalanna Rai]

HA! I forgot to tell you the poll is open. The poll is open....

[Kalanna Rai]

So you voted, now I shall show you the outcome. Enjoy!
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Chapter Twelve: Three Beautiful Flowers

Things were hopping at the shop in the following days and Travis' ability to survive sunlight showed an unexpected boon. He was able to contact the other ruling vampires in a surprisingly short amount of time, starting with Mai Lien. Obviously she sent her own messages as Travis didn't seem to spend much time repeating himself, his fingers flying across keyboards, his tones dulcet into the receiver of the phone. And every day he'd scowl at some new, ominous message from Maxis. He and Gunner would share some unreadable glance and Travis would snort, returning to his work.

Somehow, Vick managed to run the place as if the whole vampiric world wasn't falling down around his ears. As if correspondence with the highest of high vampires wasn't taking place at all hours from the darkened corners and sunlit front room of his shop. And Travis seemed galvanized, his hazel eyes sharply focused as his mind went into high gear to prevent the exposure of his kind to humanity. And through out it all Shelly and Greg wondered where their fate lay.

Greg eventually left the shop, staying with Shelly at her place even as Travis returned to his own home, safe for now. With all the other masters turning their eyes to Maxis, he didn't appear to have the resources to direct into his private feud with Travis. And that suited Bloody Rose just fine, allowing him to spin his own web of thorns to combat the traps Maxis might already have laid down. Two weeks after the battle with Preacher, just as things were beginning to settle down again, a new upheaval walked into their lives. Three gorgeous flowers arrived at Vick's shop...
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Greg looked up from where he was polishing the mahogany counter-top as the chimes above the shop door tinkled and his eyebrows promptly vanished into his hairline. In the doorway there stood three women of such unsurpassed beauty they made even a guy like Greg look twice with some interest. The unmistakable stamp of kinship shone from their looks, the similarities only serving to enhance the striking differences in each.

The one on the left had long honey-blond hair that hung in long, loose ripples to the backs of her thighs. It was held back from her sculpted face by a beaded headband, her clear emerald eyes taking in everything over the top of her John Lennon sunglasses. A silver and blue swirl print peasant blouse with long trailing sleeves, a fitted waist, and a webbed front covered her shapely upper body. A pair of patched blue denim flairs accentuated her long legs, the tops resting on the floor and allowing only the toes of black suede boots to peek out from under the fall of material.

The one on the right was a hard core biker chick in tight leather pants, heavy black and steel motorcycle boots, and a fitted leather jacket that showed off her extremely trim lines and slim waist. Fingerless gloves with steel studs on the knuckles covered much of her aristocratic hands, accentuating her long, dexterous fingers. Her strawberry blond hair was streaked with vivid metallic scarlet in trendy chunks, bound back by a black bandanna so that the ponytail flowed behind her and a single twisted tendril framed her gorgeous face, setting off her cold amethyst eyes.

The one in the middle was the obvious leader of the trio and by far the most elegant. In an extremely expensive dove grey Armani two-piece business suit that was tailored to show her lithe form in the best possible light, she cut quite the figure. Her long, long legs were shown off by the skirt that ended mid-thigh, encased in silk stockings that were the color 'nude'. A pair of expensive grey eel-skin boots with elegant wedge heels matched the suit perfectly and came up halfway on well toned calves. Her platinum blond hair was pulled back in a neat chignon at the nape of her neck, a three errant locks allowed to escape and provide her face an accent. Sapphire eyes sparkled as they swept the shop, sending a chill through Greg as they fixed on him.

As one the three of them advanced, each moving with a sweeping, inhuman elegance that screamed vampire and made Greg's stomach clench with fear. "Can I help you?" he asked softly, hoping his fear didn't bleed through too much.

The blue-eyed business woman looked at him, the pearl studs in her ear matching the single rope around her neck, luminescent in the light of the shop. "I don't know. Perhaps. Tell me...do you know one called Travis Rose?"

Greg suppressed another stab of fear, eyes sliding across each of these women. They seemed familiar to him somehow but he couldn't place them. "I...might."

A leather covered, steel studded fist landed on the counter with a heavy thud. Enough to frighten but not enough to do anything to the wood. The biker stared at him with single minded ferocity, lip curling enough to expose the point of one fang. "Listen here queer, don't play games with me or..." she was cut off by a restraining hand from the groovy sister, shooting her a dark glare.

The blue-eyed woman took over again smoothly, as if nothing had happened. "It is very important that we speak with Mr. Rose. We have tried contacting him through normal channels but he is either avoiding us or we are simply unable to contact him. Can you help?"

There was something about her voice that made him nod and reach for the shop phone, dialing Travis number before he even thought about it. It wasn't until the sleepy voice at the other end filled his ear that he even wondered what the hell he was doing. "Travis?"

"It sure as hell ain't the Easter Bunny. What's wrong Greg?"

"Well I have three lovely uh, ladies who are just dying to speak with you." He said quietly, edging back from the three too bright jeweled gazes.

He could almost hear the snap as Travis attention focused on to him from the other end of the line. "Three blonds of varying shades. One looking like a flower child, one like a Hell's Angel, and the third like she just stepped out of a power lunch?"

"Bingo." Greg flinched at the muffled curse that followed his confirmation.

"I'll be right there. Be very careful Greg."

Greg set the phone down and began polishing the bar again, trying to hide his nerves with busy work. He felt every second tick by as though a sword were being pressed into his neck, it's weight bearing down more firmly with each flick of the slim gold clock hand. Impossibly soon, had Travis been human, the shop bell tinkled and he stepped inside looking like a page torn from the GQ. Greg's mouth all but watered.

The attention of the three females instantly snapped to him, markedly different responses flitting across their features. The emerald eyed neo-hippy brightened like her favorite brother had just shown up unexpectedly. The businesswoman appraised him a little less than coolly. The biker was a blur of motion as she reached out and slapped him hard across the face, too swiftly to block. The snap of the blow rang through the shop and raised a red welt on Travis cheek, splitting his bottom lip.

While Greg was busy wondering why Travis hadn't simply dodged, she hadn't been THAT fast, the vampiress was staring at the single drop of ruby blood that decorated the tip of one finger.

"Don't do it Violet." Travis voice was soft, his hazel eyes locked on the blood as he licked his healed lip clean. "Don't."

"Don't Violet." The business woman's voice was all business, her tone all command. Yet even as she and the flower power woman reached out for the biker chick, she lunged forward with inhuman speed. Shoving Travis sleeve up, one hand locking around his wrist, the other his bicep just above the elbow, she sank her fangs into his forearm.

Instantly Travis eyes screwed shut as a grimace fleeted across his face, a wince as she started to draw from him. The biker, Violet, meanwhile seemed conflicted. Ecstasy and pure malice collided in her eyes as her pale throat worked, taking Travis Essence by the mouthful. After a few moments he placed his other hand against her forehead and pushed.

"Violet, no more. You know what happens." She paused for a moment, a whimper quickly turning to a feral snarl as she pulled back, swiping her tongue across the wounds to seal them.

She glared at him, afterglow fading as pure fury flashed in her amethyst eyes. "You bastard! How could you!" The other vampiresses restrained her as she sought to lunge forward and Travis features settled into a look of cool disdain.

The newly arrived Gunner reached out a massive hand just in time to steady his master as Travis swayed like a drunken man. He made a polite gesture to his bodyguard, turning hard eyes on Violet. "You think I like being your fix Violet? I just get my feet back under me after the past week and you show up and drain me again."

Violet opened her mouth to say something and was promptly silenced by the hippy administering a sharp slap that turned her head. She blinked dazedly, shaking her strawberry blond head as Travis turned his gaze to the sophisticated woman.

"Lily...why are you here?"

At his words Greg could no longer keep silent. "Wait. Lily, as in the Prima Lily? As in Maxis other half? As in the chick that started the whole feud in the first place?"

She chuckled, a sound like crystal bells. "My reputation proceeds me. You must be the human under the protection of the Bloody Rose." Greg was sharp enough not to miss Travis slight twitch as the name was spoken by that honey soft voice.

"What are you doing here Lily?" Travis voice was calm and controlled. "I know why Violet is here, I asked her to come. But why you...and why did you drag Ivy along?"

At the sound of her name the hippy chick looked up, shoving honey blond hair out of her emerald eyes. "Travis, you called on AngelMaker. You and Violet are sheer trouble together. Sure, a lot of that is trouble for whoever happens to be on your shitlist at the time, but more of it is trouble between the two of you. I mean look at what just happened. Now you two are both in sorry shape. Face it, you need me."

The vampire gave a long suffering sigh, closing his hazel eyes for a moment before opening them and fixing a gimlet stare on Lily again. "And you? Why, what is your excuse for open warfare?"

She sighed, looking around for a likely chair and taking possession of it, claiming it as if it were a throne. "Maxis has gone mad Travis. I don't need to tell you all the details, I don't know all the details. The man is frightfully good at keeping secrets from everyone. I do know he has an army. Servants, sources, slaves, fledglings, and his Bound. All of them unable to disobey him." Her sapphire stare flicked to Gunner and she smiled at the big Viking.

"You were lucky to get out my friend. He had plans for you, unable to trust you wholly though he was. The loss of Armand will also slow him. Now he has only Jerel, Ahmed, and Isabelle to marshall his troops. And without me there is no one to oversee things at home. No, I have no wish to betray our world to the humans Travis. I have no wish to be bound to such a fool as Maxis any longer. I have known for some time that the Council would have you become a Prince. I will stand behind you, beside you, and with you in battle."

Greg's mouth fell open. "Wait...you're backing him?"

She smiled, a condescending, patronizing look. "Yes human. I will back Bloody Rose. As Mai Lien of the Jade Throne and Jakart and Lythssa of the Ivory Kingdom back him. As things stand, Maxis will lose the Black Court soon and that will put three of the five squarely behind him. A Majority." She smirked as she spoke, as if it was forgone.

Travis hissed, eyes flashing. "And I say yet again, I cannot hold a Title. I cannot defend a seat on the Council. It will be an excuse to cut me down. I am scarce old enough to..."

She was suddenly on her feet, delicate fingers tracing his jaw. "You're scarcely old enough to be on your own Travis Rose. Yet here you are, feared by many, loved by few, but respected by all. You draw and command loyalty like no other I have ever met. Even your staunchest of foes shakes his head in wonder from time to time. Bloody Rose, admit it. With the right help, you could easily hold a Title. The question is, will you even make the attempt?"
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Alright it's in the open. Lily, Maxis 'love' has defected to Travis camp and brought her two powerful sisters with her. But the real story is a major choice Travis has to make which will have a major impact on the plot. Will Travis go along with the Council and strive for a Title, or will he continue to turn them down? Choose wisely.
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I know it took a long time, I had some technical difficulties getting this one up. And RL issues. But here it is, hope you liked!

[DeadManWalking]

He doesn't seem to have much of a choice does he?

Go for the title.

[Hak]

I'm sayin go for the title..... but when is Greggy-poo gonna be sweeney-todd like? and where is that guy I drew?

[Lilith]

He doesn't have to strive for it.... he has it already in everything but name... but something just isn't right here.... why are these other courts sooooo solicitous of someone whom they fear getting a seat of power?

I think the three sisters are having their chains pulled by Mai Lein and Mai Lein wants Maxis out of the picture. Then with Travis on her good side, she can basically have even more control over another court, can she not? Even the tiniest bit of influence...

Travis should PRETEND to play the sisters' game. Claim a seat but put another in his place when it comes down to it. Travis plays the evasion game well.. it should be no trouble for him.

[Kalanna Rai]

*pokes snout in, sets up poll, pulls snout out*

Vote.

[DeadManWalking]

YAY first vote

[Kalanna Rai]

Votes? Last call.

[Guest]

oops poll tie. I don't really mean to do ties on your stories Rai. Why not drag in a few readers... :cool:

I'm sure one of my friends might like it. She liked a scene of a story (book) about a girl that went to sleep on a bench outside then suddenly this punk-beggar began to fight about the bench, saying its his. She really likes funny ones, but she likes uber characters aswell. I'll ask her if she would want to read your story.

[Lilith]

Tie broken Rai. Get to workage :P

[Kalanna Rai]

At long last after soliciting a tie-breaker I am able to write this chapter for you. Enjoy!
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Chapter Thirteen: The Young and the Ruthless

Travis pose was almost classic, right arm wrapping around his torso, fist under his left elbow while his head bowed, closed mouth resting on his left fist. His eyes were intently staring at nothing, fixed on some point inside his own mind until his lids slid over them. The three vampiresses watched him intently, three unreadable expressions, three very different postures as they awaited his answer.

Finally Travis raised his head, staring at Lily in the manner of a condemned man with a bad case of gallows humor. The light that danced in his hazel eyes was defiant, the ghost of a sardonic smile on his elegant features. "Accept your offer and spend the rest of my immortality wondering when someone will rip my throat out...or decline and spend the rest of my eternity in hiding, waiting to be discovered and destroyed. Tough choice."

"It's not like that at all Travis-" Lily's smoothly rehearsed speech was cut off as Travis raised one artistic hand and shook his head.

"Yes it is Lily. But don't worry...I'd much rather be smiling when they cut my throat than become little more than an animal. I will accept the Council's 'gracious' offer." Before anyone could even react to his words he was standing a heartbeat away from Lily, a small knife pressed against the pale white skin of her neck. "But I want you to take a message back to the Old Bastards Club for me. Tell them that if they think I'm grateful, if they think I feel a sense of obligation to them, they're a little far off the mark. The first threat I see, I'll be sending back the enforcers fangs on a silver tray."

Violet burst out into laughter, wiping a tear from her eye before grinning at both Lily and Travis. "What did I tell you? You may have convinced him but you won't use him. All your grand schemes down the drain my dear sister, all your grand plans ashes."

Greg could feel the tension building in the air and he edged away from the counter, getting ready to duck before someone snapped. Gunner hovered protectively behind Travis, the buckles on his guitar case loose and ready for action while Violet made a great show of stepping across an imaginary line to stand next to the big viking. For a moment Ivy looked between the two groups before walking over and hopping up to sit on the counter top not far from where Greg stood, clearly removing herself from the situation. Wherever Vick was he wasn't in the room, wisely keeping himself scarce. And that left Lily all alone on her 'side'.

Just when Greg thought that all hell was going to break loose the bell above the shop door chimed and everyone turned their head in time to see Jim come sailing through the air, barely managing to twist and land on his feet instead of his back. There was a sudden flurry of movement, over in the blink of Greg's eyes, leaving him scratching his head at the odd drama that was taking place in front of him.

Jim was standing next to Gunner and Violet, Lily had a hand over her mouth to contain the polite laughter that was twinkling in her icy eyes. And Travis was kneeling on the floor, one hand around the throat of a scrawny youth with ash brown hair, the other hand holding the small dagger pulled back in a fist with the sharp blade protruding from between the knuckles of his middle and ring finger. Yet everyone, save the youth on the floor was smiling. "Hello again Kid, long time no see."

"Bastard. Get off me Travis. Every time I see you you get faster...damn." His voice squeaked a little as he spoke, breaking slightly over the word and making 'Kid' grimace while the others snickered. "It's not funny...I'd like to see you go through puberty forever...lets see how you like it."

Greg finally understood as Travis stood, putting away the blade and helping the youth, who couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen, off the floor. This was the third person Vick had mentioned, the one called Kid Death. He didn't look like much, a slim and muscular youth, slightly feminine, with his flyaway ash brown hair dressed in a punk emo style that was all the rage but didn't seem to suit him. While he might look young he carried himself like a much older person, enough to make a person look twice, maybe three times.

He pulled the hood up on his skeleton hoodie, stuffing his hands into the kangaroo pocket and instantly looking like a thug, glaring with golden eyes from the shadowed depths. "So what did I miss besides the power lunch from hell...oh by the way Gunner, congrats on the shift of alliance. I think you'll do a whole lot better with Travis than Maxis...even if Travis is a bastard."

It was a laughable sight to watch the big man and the young punk pound fists, yet it made sense as Kid took up his position on Travis opposite side, across from Violet. Lily gave him a cool glance before dismissing him, returning her cold gaze to Travis. "It matters not. You will soon be brought to heel within the workings of the Council Bloody Rose. All come to the table with dreams of defying alliance, breaking the mold. All are brought to their knees. It is simply the way of things, no offence."

He shrugged lightly. "None taken. And no offense Lily but I believe you know the way to the door...feel free to use that knowledge."

The Prima bristled, back going ramrod straight as she gave a curt nod, brushing past the crowd like an angry cat. She paused and gave Ivy a slight glance. Ivy replied with an even slighter shake of her head and Lily continued to storm gracefully out of the door, the chimes ringing cheerfully as she vanished.

After waiting what seemed like forever, Greg finally relaxed. "Ding dong, the witch is dead..." he muttered under his breath, grinning as Ivy laughed at him. Picking up his rag, he went back to polishing the counter leaving the vampires to discuss undead politics. Since learning that the 'children of the night' were real, they'd lost a lot of their appeal for Greg.

Sure he'd admit it, there was a point in time where curling up in bed with a good vampire novel was an attractive way to spend an evening. Now...well he couldn't even hear the word vampire without thinking of the few he knew. Of his boss, Vick, who treated him no differently than a human boss would treat an employee, albeit Vick was a friendly boss. Or worse of Travis. He polished the bar a little faster, trying to remember how many coats of polish he'd already applied rather than look up and find himself caught by that disapproving gaze. Travis didn't like being the object of anybody's affection as Greg had learned.
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It took everyone some time to get settled in, kicking back in basement under the shop. For a while there was a lot of catching up, what had everyone been doing since they'd last seen each other. Kid almost choked on his own spit when he heard that Travis was soon to join the ranks of the elite, to become a member of the Council.

"But what will they call you? I mean, no offense Travis, but you just don't rate the title of Prince. You're not even three hundred years old! I don't care how damn fast you are, they've got tricks up their sleeves that have worked since...shit since Rome I bet."

Travis shook his head at Kid's assessment of the situation. "Rome was a long time ago Kid. I don't think there are many, if any, left around from then. What about you Gunner, you've got a longer memory."

The big Viking looked up from where he was happily humming as he sharpened his axe and scratched his head a moment. "Longer memory sure...but I don't keep as many of those memories as you do. But no, I can't remember a vampire that might have seen Rome. Mai Lien and Maxis are both very, very old...perhaps old enough to have seen the fall of the Empire. But I very much doubt either of them was around during it's height."

Violet and Ivy both shook their heads, spreading empty hands and Jim didn't even bother to respond. Instead a strange silence settled over the vampires as they brooded on the realization that, while some of them were exceedingly old, none of them were truly ancient. It was a stark reminder of the sheer brutality of their existence. A horrible, terrible form of population control. A master vampire could make as many new vampires as they wanted...but he could keep only as many as they could protect.

"So Travis...now that you're a big shot...what are you going to do with all that power?" Vick's question shattered the silence like a baseball through a plate glass window and a few chuckles rippled through the room as Travis rolled his eyes.

"Well I can tell you what I'm not going to do with it...and that's start an open feud with Maxis." Turning his fedora over in his hands a few times, the roan haired vampire sighed. "Unfortunately, I don't think that's up to me."

"Da Boss. When Maxis finds out that he's out and you're in...his reaction will not be favorable."
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So we have two old rivals who's fortunes have changed. One is rising to power while the other is falling from grace. How will Maxis react, what will his first move be?
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Heh, let those devious minds work. Lets see some action!

[DeadManWalking]

Well...

Going through Maxis's generally unsubtle moves so far, i'd say go for a full on war.

However, two other options are also attractive, at least to my mind.

1. Get some supporters into Travis's camp. It's always a horrible thing to find that your allies aren't quite as devoted as you think they are.

2. If Maxis is going to spread the word that vampires are real, why not tap into that hidden human urge to have a good and a bad side of every bloodsuckingly evil race?

Set himself up as the kind and good kinda vampire, and say the others are hellspawn.

What with the current Twilight craze, he should get plenty of human support.

Plus, that'd aid him in the war.

Even if a vampire can beat a whole bunch of humans, there are limits.

[Lilith]

The number one thing that ALL vampire legends and tales.. I don't care which book you've read or what movies you've watched.... the number one thing is that the vampires ALL agree that the mortal world is not to know that they exist. It is in every story and as such, Maxis is commiting the worst crime in vampire history.

So, he's going to have to turn the tables around in his favor. Lily's flounced off now that Travis has snubbed her. Pull her back in the coeterie. Voliet and Ivy?? They're acting as of right now. Lily's not the mastermind here; Maxis is. Lily's disgraceful exit was actually an act.

Maxis's plans so far have been very blunt and risky.. making him seem rather stupid or else nutty... so suddenly make it smooth, very smooth and hidden, the hidden workings of his plan. A total 180 of what he was doing might give Maxis the advantage.

[BlackAmaranth]

Whew, finally caught up. I've always been a sucker for vampire stories, it's just hard to write one nowadays without it seeming cliche. But I think you pulled it off quite nicely :D There were a few grammar things (most of which I've forgotten by now), but other than that I'm really enjoying it. As for the DP, I have a question: are we sure Lily and/or the other ladies can be trusted? Maybe it's just me, but there's something kinda funny about what she's saying...

[BlackAmaranth]

Oops, I didn't see that last chapter. Ah...forget about that last part then :oops:

[Kalanna Rai]

Welcome Ama! Sit down and enjoy!

[Kalanna Rai]

Okay, the poll is up and I'd like to make it a quick one so get those votes in guys!

[Kalanna Rai]

And so it begins. Enjoy
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Chapter Fourteen: The Ultimate Betrayal

He had spent centuries preparing for this moment, his program, his plan only finally coming together in these past few decades, these last few years. In every major government across the globe his Servents were waiting. They were rarely in positions of power themselves, instead they held the puppet strings of the figureheads. In some cases they were wives, in others they were the lover that the press could never hear about. They were obscure politicians that sat in overlooked offices and knew a great deal about the skeletons in everyone's closet. And thanks to their Master every single one of them had protection the average human could not comprehend. They were untouchable.

The news of the selection of that...thing...that playtoy of Henri's had come over breakfast. He'd been sitting, reading the morning papers, enjoying his usual goblet of fresh blood when a Carrier had arrived, striding into his Court as if walking across a field of landmines. On a silver tray he'd bourn a letter, written on parchment with a goose quill and sealed with wax. Imprinted with the crests of his fellow courts...as well as his own. That alone was enough to bring the monster to the surface.

So Lily had finally tipped her hand...it had taken her long enough. He'd always known he hadn't been able to trust her, not after tainted fangs had touched her. Just like her sisters, she panted after the playtoy, the...thing. He couldn't forgive that, could anyone blame him? It was only made worse that the thing was of his own blood, the final Creation of one of his Seven Sins.

Over the years he had, once or twice, been forced to give the thing grudging credit. It had elevated itself beyond it's humble origins. It did have...abilities that not even he, Maxis, posessed. And that made the thing very dangerous indeed. If left alone long enough it might become a formidable adversary. And so he'd long ago made the decision to crush it when the time came. But doing so without jepordizing the greater plans had never been a reality, always been just beyond reach.

Now though, now it was a possibility. Yet he was plauged by failure. First Isabelle had failed to kill the thing in it's hole. The thing had spared him the necessity of disciplening her though by killing her Creations, rocking the core of her power and breaking her fledgling Mastery...bringing her back into the arms of Maxis own power. And that suited him just fine...he was running short on loyal bodyguards these days.

And of course that was the second failure...Gunwulf...Gunner as he now liked to be called. The loss of his first Creation stung Maxis more than the betrayals Lily had visited upon him. But there had been signs that Gunner could no longer be trusted. He had grown fond of the thing...expressed that opinion on several occasions. Had harbored a trust of the thing in his very blood. Maxis had thought his power would be sufficient to deal with the problem. Had thought that by making Gunner kill the thing he would also harden the soft spot the Viking seemed to have developed. Instead the thing had stolen him away, shattered a Bond that had withstood a millenia. Impossible. Apparently not.

And finally the third failure. Armand. His Preacher...his last remaining Priest had fallen. While it was true that Armand had never been as effective as he had before the loss of his other half, he'd still been loyal. And loyalty was something Maxis seemed to be running out of. The courts he'd thought allied to him had obviously turned against him, there were traitors in his ranks. All because of the thing.

And so he made the decision. Tonight was the night. Tonight he would allow himself to reap the fruits of centuries of labor. By dawn the entire human world would know the cold and bloody truth. That vampires did exist...
---------------------------

Travis was painting when his phone rang. Sitting in clothes that had more paint on them than the six foot canvas he'd chosen for this particular work, his russet hair pulled back by a rubber band at the nape of his neck, he'd almost been startled. One lithe hand reached out shockingly fast as the soft tones of Motzart's 'Requiem for a Dream' chimed from the Nokia, he flipped it open and securly pinned the device between his ear and shoulder. "Yes?"

Greg's panicked voice echoed over the other end of the reciever, breath coming in shallow huffs. "You'd better turn on the television, or the radio, or tune into the brains of the people around you. He's done it...he's told the world..."

Travis didn't bother to ask what Greg was talking about. He had a good idea already as he walked across the living room and flipped on the TV set that he rarely, if ever, used. Sure enough the breaking news made him peel his lips back from sharpened fangs as he made a dark noise, hazel eyes narrowing in a cold preditory stare. "Is Shelly watching this with you?"

"I'm here Travis," the prompt reply of her voice made the vampire realize he was most likely on speaker and he hoped that no other mortals were in the room as Shelly's voice continued. "What are we going to do?"

That was a very good question. As he watched the gruesome footage that was no doubt making vampires in certain parts of the world lick their chops, he knew there was no damage control that could be done. While vampires themselves could not be photographed, would show up on no film, the clothes they wore, the damage they did were all too visible...as was the stolen blood they shed. It sizzled and smoked and eventually turned to dust...right infront of the camera.

While some may have dismissed it as high quality special effects...it couldn't be. Not with the way the eyewitnesses, the poor mortals caught in the frenzy were being torn apart. No doubt stunned relatives were recognizing their loved ones and swooning in shock, screaming in terror...and spreading the truth. Vampires were real. Vampires lived. Vampires were running wild in the streets of Europe.

Suddenly something happened. The distruction, the sheer horror...it just stopped. Well not stopped it was stopped by some greater force. Reporters that had been describing the horrors they were witnessing now spoke incredoulously of vampires fighting vampires. Of saviours coming to their aid. And the voice Travis had known all the long he was going to hear finally rang out. As the smoke settled, as the reporters began to say that it was over, a booming voice echoed.

"Humanity, despair not. Though we devils may walk amoung you, not all of our number are monsters. There are those of us in the shadows that will stand against our brethren in your name! For centuries we have warded you. For centuries we have guarded you. And now that our worlds have overlapped, we shall aid you openly! We shall not leave you defenseless but shall redouble our efforts. Humanity, arm yourselves! War is upon us all now and there is no time for unbelievers. They will be struck down and cast aside by their foes! I am Maxis, Prince of the Black Court, and though I may now be called Traitor by all brethren I shall embrace that title. For it is better to betray my own blood than to watch Genocide unfold."

Travis could only snort at the speech as the studio switched over with the broadcasters saying that it was a clip from just moments ago before they cut to break. He vaugely realized that Greg was babbling in his ear and snapped the phone shut without another comment. Slowly he walked back to where the canvas sat and stared at it longingly, brushing reverent fingertips over the surface before reaching down to select a brush. Dipping it in the blackest paint he owned, he drug it across the taut material, back and forth rythmically until the whole of the blank expanse was a black void.

Cleaning up his mess, leaving the canvas to dry, he knelt and summoned Odysseus with a simple outstretched hand. There was nothing supernatural behind the gesture, it was something a million cat owners did daily with their feline pets...although not always with the success Travis enjoyed. Now as the soft black head rubbed itself against the calloused tips of the vampires fingers, he sighed. "Odyessus old friend the time has come again to put down the brush and take up the sword. And that means you're going to be skipping mealtimes..."

Standing, he tweaked the pendant around his throat, replacing the paint stained comfort clothes for the outfit that had so awed Greg...his 'modern armor'. Ensuring that everything was as he had left it, right down to the littlest knife, he walked down the hall and picked up the cat carrier. "Alright old friend, you know the drill. I've got to leave you with someone for a little while."

Odysseus did as his owner asked, climbing into the carrier, but not before pausing and rubbing his head against Travis one last time. Not without giving a plaintive little meow, a strange sound to be coming from that particular animal. Travis scratched his chin gently through the mesh as he left his apartment, locking the door behind him. "Odyssues...I'm not going to forget you. Don't look at me like that old friend..." his words trailed off. Who would have thought that Travis Rose, now a member of the Council itself, would be nearly moved to tears by the actions of a simple feline?

Slowly he set out for his destination, using the stolen memories in his very blood as a guide. Though he'd never been to Shelly Vengate's home, he knew it intimately. Right down to the color of sheets that were on her bed. Everywhere, panicked thoughts pressed at his shields as humanity blew it's collective top over the reality of vampires. He'd have to warn Vick that the shop was in danger, no doubt the backlash was going to be severe. Especially with Maxis playing saviour.

He laughed mirthlessly at that thought. "Maxis a saviour? Ah well...Lucifer himself was once an angel, eh Odysseus?" Maxis was no saviour, he was an enslaver. He would have every mortal in chains before they knew what hit them. No, there was no retracting his actions, no way they could ever repair the breach and go back into hiding. They were exposed, perminantly, and the only thing Travis could think of now was damage control.

The Council would have to step forward and soon. Would have to jump into this mess and take control of it before Maxis managed to complete whatever it was he'd actually planned. Or was it really as simple as taking over the world? No doubt he was already painting Travis as a sinister bastard, telling whoever would listen that Travis was the Antichrist. And after his little specticle no doubt they'd believe him.

He briefly rubbed his temple as a woman ran past screaming. No doubt ticket sales to Alaska would be going through the roof as people flocked there for the safety six solid months of daylight promised. Speaking of daylight he winced, realizing he hadn't put on nearly enough sunblock before leaving. Though it wasn't hot, it was clear enough that the direct rays were stabbing at his dead flesh and making it itch though no visible burn was detectable. His eyes, spared blinding by a pair of blue lensed sunglasses, swept the world around him and took in the stunned silence. Aside from the occasional soul who grasped the reality instantly, many humans were still praying this was some horrible joke.

It didn't take long to find the wrought iron stairs that led to Shelly's small home in a quiet little neighborhood. He didn't bother knocking, the door wouldn't be locked at this hour. Sure enough the knob turned easily and he entered to find Shelly curled up on the couch, knees drawn to her chest as she hugged an overstuffed pillow. One corner had been sized in her teeth as naked fear gleamed in her eyes, one hand gently touching the spot where he'd bitten her. Greg was staring at the phone, trying to call Travis back, fingers savagely punching the buttons.

He cleared his throat, taking no amusement from their frightened reactions, setting the carrier down and letting Odysseus loose. He watched the feline shake off the effects of travel before sniffing the air. "Yes she has a cat...play nice." Two yellow eyes regarded him solemnly for a moment before, tail in the air, Odysseus padded off. "Now for you two, settle down. This news shouldn't be new to either of you."

Shelly stared at him looking much like a fragile doe caught in the lights of a semi. "Travis...you may be able to take all this in stride but...but...you people have existed in secrecy for so long. Don't tell me how many of your laws revolve around keeping your existence hidden from humanity. Most, if not all of them. So now that you don't need to be kept a secret anymore...what's to keep the average vampire from slaughtering us."

He chuckled coldly. "Well the rest of us. There's not a vampire in this town that's going to do you any harm Shelly. Well...none of them that actually live here. But I don't think Maxis has any minions in my neck of the woods...not after the losses he's already suffered. It's not his style. What needs to happen is the Council needs to get a night session with the UN. There is no way in Hell I'm going to take on running interference with the whole of humanity myself. Sunlight or no, I'm not a politician. I'm an artist. I'm a killer. That's what I'm good at." He noted their flinches at his words and settled himself on the couch. "Once again, this is nothing new to either of you."

Greg sighed. "So Travis, what are you going to do...what is the next move of anyone?"

"First, I'm going to make a few phone calls. I can reach most of the Council right now...well, some of them. Then I'm going to get myself on the news."

Shelly's brows wrinkled. "The news...no offense Travis but unless you take a better photo than the average vampire you're not going to do much good."

He smiled at them, a charming human smile, fangs hidden away. "I don't take a good picture Shelly, I'm just like the rest of them in that department. But what I do intend to do is let everyone know where I stand before Maxis totally ruins my reputation."

Greg looked up suddenly. "Reputation...that's it. Travis, there's one thing that Maxis hasn't counted on...your fame."

Travis looked up at him and chuckled. "Why Greg...I do believe you might be right."
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So, how big a part does Travis fame as an artist play in how people believe him? Does it gain him human support or do people just blow him off?
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Whew, that's the longest one I've written in a while. Will spellcheck later as it's currently 1:30am. Hope you liked.

[DeadManWalking]

At first glance i'd say that the fame would help a lot.

A famous artist is one of those soulless evils? ridiculous. It gives the vampires a human face, labeling them people instead of monsters.

But with some good PR, Maxis could counter it. Just talk about hidden skeletons in the closet, and how easily you can get rid of bodies these days.

[Kalanna Rai]

Yes, this is a poll.

[Lady of the Shadows]

Yayzies!

Just letting you know I voted!

Good work, Rai!

[Kalanna Rai]

I'd like to thank my readers at this point. Without you guys coming back chapter after chapter Travis and his companions would never reach the end of the story. So Enjoy!
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Chapter Fifteen: Smile Like the Devil

It took everyone working in sudden concert to get things set up. Shelly had her contacts with media and public relations that called in the right reporters and shows that would have an interest in hearing one of the world's most reclusive artists speak, as well as those who just didn't want to miss the oppertunity. Ryan and Travis convinced the gallery owner to allow them to hold the interview in the gallery itself, because Travis wasn't about to let film crews trapse through his home. His revelations had limits.

With all the preparations falling into place, Travis spent most of the rest of the day making phone calls to parts of the world where night still held sway, talking fast to get his point across to the other Council members. They swayed backward and forward, held their ground just to prove that they were powerful, and then quickly caved with the stipulation that if it backfired it was all his fault. Travis could live with that, it had been all his fault for centuries.

Now the time was nearly at hand, the paintings had been arranged just so, his picture of the bloody rose moved from his studio to the gallery and place prominantly behind him. He sat on the same paint splattered barstool that he always sat on while creating his works. His 'armor' was gone, replaced again with the pair of paint splattered shirt, it's long sleeves hiding his fingers to the first knuckle, its neckline a little frayed. The faded and frayed jeans that covered his legs bore the drips and dribbles of his attempts to recreate his memories on canvas, his popular brand sneakers showing more than their fair share of hard use.

Greg had fussed over his apperance, normal hesitation to make suggestions or touch the vampire forgotten in haste and he'd shoved Travis' hair this and that way until finally giving up and standing back when Travis had laughed at him. "Just leave it loose Greg, I normally do unless I'm working. Less hassle that way." Hazel eyes sparkled as he shooed the human away. "Quit trying to act like my mother, so help me if you try to lick your finger and wipe the dirt off my face I will do something quite painful to you."

Greg had opened his mouth when Travis picked up a Coke and then pointed toward the door. "They're almost here, make yourself scarce or be labled a 'vamp lover'." Without glancing again at the human, he popped the top on the can and took a long swallow, savoring the too sweet syrup that mixed with the carbonated water.

He was still holding the can, swirling it's contents, when the first of the reporters shuffled in. She was a younger woman, age in the mid twenties, and from her thoughts Travis managed to discern that this was the first interview of any importance she'd been allowed to conduct. She'd been talking to one of the camera men and now she turned, facing him, and froze. She'd been expecting someone older.

That thought was very common as they filed in, the soft Gallery light filling the room save where the skylights in the roof allowed wells of sunlight to pour in. He watched them set up, sipping his Coke slowly, savoringly, hazel eyes fixing on each of them as their thoughts pressed at him. Like a room full of people whispering half said words, so hard to make heads or tails of.

Finally the pcking order seemed to be sorted out and the reporters settled into some semblance of order. Many were wondering why he'd called them here, why he'd chosen to speak now when vampires were running around in the world. That was the big story...not some artist who thought he was a big shot suddenly deciding to give an interview. Then the first of the cameras obviously started rolling and the man nearly screamed.

Travis smiled...pointedly. "And that would by why I've suddenly decided to give you all an interview. And why I havn't in the past. Please, wait, before you all go stampeading out the door uselessly you'll note I havn't attacked anyone yet. Nor do I have any intention of doing so." He sipped the Coke again before pouring a small amount into the palm of his head. "And no Mr. Rugger...I'm not drinking blood out of a can. It really is Coke."

Mr. Rugger was a man in an expensive Brooks Brothers suit and all the blood drained from his face, making him look eerily corpse-like. Others flicked their eyes to him, then the vampire, and back again until finally, one veteren reporter who'd done combat coverage stepped forward. "You don't show up on our cameras, but your clothing does, you have fangs, and yet here you sit in the middle of the day sipping a Coke. Just what are you?"

"A person. An artist. But yes, also a vampire." He drained the last few drops of his can and, moving at that impossible speed of his, dropped it in a distant trash can and was back on his stool before they could react. "I'm faster, stronger, and have better senses than the average human. Do I drink blood? Yes, I'm afraid that is true, but I havn't killed anyone to get it since the 1940's."

He took in their glassy eyes and smiled reassuringly without a hint of fang. "Most vampires you meet will not be able to hold daylight conversations with you. To date I believe I am the only one known that has sunlight resistance of this level. There are those who can brave indirect light though, heavily cloudy days or the middle of storms, just no direct sunlight."

"What about the Coke? Do all vampires drink Coke?" It was the young reporter who had first come in, trying to find her courage. He smiled easily at her, shaking his head.

"No. Most vampires drink blood however, very few vampires survive on blood alone. They are one extreme end of the scale with vampires that don't actually need blood at all on the other. Those lucky fellows can get everything they need from large quantities of normal food. Most of us are somewhere in the middle. I can't digest anything that cannot be sipped through a straw for instance."

A few more questions were traded, the answers urbane and human, delivered with smiles and some startled laughter. Soon the reporters were relaxing, asking questions less about vampires and more about Travis himself. What had been his favorite era so far? How did he choose what memories to paint? What were his views on global warming and the energy crisis?

With the exception of a few die-hard art magazine reporters, most people even ignored the setting and specialty Travis had surrounded them with. They were more interested in tapping him for how vampires saw human culture, did he like movies? Which ones? Did he read books? What were his feelings about the portrayal of vampires in popular culture.

He had to laugh hard at that one, shaking his head. "Humans have quite a bit of imagination when it comes to us. I've never met vampires that do half the things you think we do, although maybe they'll turn up. Afterall, we're not supposed to be out in the middle of the day either. And I hate to inform you all...not every vampire is drop dead handsom nor can they make you think they are. There are many individuals out there that are ugly and proud of it."

He relaxed on his stool, staring thoughtfully toward the skylight. "When you get right down too it, vampires are as varied as the humans we once were. Talents one person might have, another does not. Immunities and resistances one has, another might not. While things can be learned and immunities boosted, there remains just as big a degree of difference in us as their is in you. Is there good cause to fear us and hate us. Yes, I'm afraid there is. That attack in Europe is one example and probably the worst one. That is an example of what could happen if vampires are allowed to do whatever they want. Luckily, most of us have better sense than to go around making a general monster of ourselves."

And then came the question he'd been dreading. "Travis, speaking of the European incident, you obviously seem for humanity...are you and Maxis part of the same group?"

For a moment he debated something before sighing and closing his eyes, two long fingers rubbing his temples. "No. No we're very much not. Vampires are goverened by on global Council, the majority of books have that right. Until two days ago Maxis was a member of some standing...now he's not. Not because he sided with you or because he revealed his existance in such a manner. But because he orchestrated the whole thing. All of those vampires you saw...they all pledged their loyalty to him."

He held his hands up as instant clamor broke out, hushing them lightly. "Also, I don't blame you if you choose not to believe me. Maxis and I have personal issues that make us about as far from friends as can be. I am very young to hold a Council seat, very very young, and I have been less than kind to him in the past. The fact of the matter is simply this, most people will choose to disbelieve my words because he showed up as a saviour and because he will no doubt tell you all that I am allied with those who ran rampent. I can tell you that while many vampires will stand by me, only one is bound to me. And he's safely asleep at the moment so you've nothing to fear from my bodyguard."

He stood, shrugging his shoulders. "So, believe me or not, I'll give you this warning. Don't put too much trust in Maxis, the Council doesn't and if we don't, Humanity certainly should not. For untold years the Council has governed vampire society and, before you believe anything otherwise, think on this. If the Council had wanted humanity dead or enslaved, had wanted to cause blood to run through the streets...what was stopping us before? Why did we wait until now? There is no possible way that the will of the most powerful vampires on Earth could have been thwarted on every previous attempt. Fact of the matter is, if you want to see vampires as nothing more than the preditors of humanity, then consider the Council the shepards of the flock."

For a long time the humans stared at him, trying to gauge what he'd said, how much of it was true. Finally the combat reporter cleared his throat and smiled. "I don't know about the rest of these people, or yourself, but it's getting too hot in here for me. Would you mind if I borrowed a Coke?"
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So, Travis has said his piece and at least one reporter has made a gesture of trust. But how will this turn out for him in the long run. What reprecussions will his interview have for him? The Council may have sanctioned his giving the interview, but they also made clear any bad that came from it was squarely on his shoulders. So...good, bad, otherwise...what results does Travis reap?
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There you are guys, even a complex DP! I thank you all for your continued presence and hope you liked!

[DeadManWalking]

Well normally i'd say that Travis would of course take quick action to organize human society on his side. He is obviously the best suited to be the "Daylight Face" of the Vampires, and so he could give talks before the UN, and before other large institutions.

However, there is still the problem of people believing Maxis over him.

What we need is an assassination attempt. Maxis is probably not short-sighted enough to try it himself, since that would simply make more people inclined to believe Travis, but it would really help Travis's verisimilitude if someone tried to kill him, preferably someone invisible to camera and faster than normal humans (i.e. all the evidence of vampires). Also, there may be some human extremist groups that could try regardless of any vampire action; that could also be spun out to help Travis's image, or at least gain him public sympathy.

[Lady of the Shadows]

well, with a talk like that I would be sure to believe him. BUt maybe there is a perfect division. Half trust Travis, half trust Maxis. :tempt:

Perfect division , maybe a few are torn. BUT, that might start a bit of a fire for Travis and Maxis and the rest of them.

Lovely new chapter, Rai!