Bowing slightly as Beatrice breezed past him, Michael followed her into the private room with the smallest of smiles on his pale face. He liked this one. She had... [i]class[/i]. Definitely a far cry from the usual rowdy werewolves. Taking his eyes off of her rather supple form for a moment, the vampire glanced around the room and raised a dark eyebrow. "Hmph," he said at last. "An acquiantance of mine was supposed to be waiting in here to speak to you all, but it seems she has seen fit to make herself sca-"

As if in response, there was a massive sound from behind a sofa in one of the poorly-lit corners. A thundering [i]snore[/i]. "Oh my dear sweet Lord," said the bartender, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's her." Sure enough, when he went to check, a dark-haired woman in a long brown coat was asleep on the floor (and still snoring). "She sounds like a jet engine," Michael muttered to himself, before giving her several vigorous shakes. "Wake up, goddamnit!" he finally shouted, and slowly, one dark eye cracked open. 

"You bite your mother with that mouth?" Sighing in exasperation, the vampire stood up. "You're one to talk. Didn't you [i]eat[/i] yours, or something?" Suppressing a yawn, his "friend" pushed herself upright, and peered across the room at Beatrice. "Something like that. I [i]had[/i] just hatched, though, and you can't blame a baby dragon for being hungry..." Rather hastily, she wiped the drool off of her face with the sleeve of her coat, got to her feet, and walked over to the Chaos Witch without a second glance at Michael. Something about the young woman was... [i]off[/i].

For a split second, the dragon's eyes flashed bright gold, and the nature of the witch's blurry edges was revealed: an illusion, and a powerful one at that. She couldn't even see through it, at least without taking the time to prepare a Truth spell, and there was only a single mage in Blackbury who had that kind of power. Blatantly staring, she looked directly at the indististinct outline of the witch's head, and nodded. She knew exactly who it was, illusion or no. In fact, she had been hoping to run into this particular witch... After a moment, she noticed the other four, the boys, and realized that she still hadn't introduced herself. 

Mustering a hard smile, the woman looked at each of them in turn, committing their faces to memory as she spoke. "Now then, I daresay it's time I introduced myself. Noor Dhahabi, at your service. Unless you've been in Blackbury a while, like our friend Cyrus here, you probably haven't heard of 'the Constable'. Well, to put it mildly, I'm the one that gives the wolves the scent, and tells them to, er, 'fetch'. Whenever there's a body, a murder involving one of us, I'm there, investigating, determining whether it's serious enough for a bounty (many times I just take care of it all myself). A couple innocent supernaturals in the humans' jail? I'm there, sweet-talking and bribing those poor bastards to get our people out before they rip someone in half... And a case like this? Well, I'm all over it! -yawn- Let's just say I'm the best person in Blackbury to help you get to the bottom of this mess."

Michael interjected from behind her, his face still a bit sour. "[I]Indeed.[/I] Despite Ms. Dhahabi's less-than-professional manner, she's been in the game for centuries, and has definitely pulled my arse out of the fire more than a few times... With Cyrus and the Constable both, I couldn't leave you in more capable hands. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I've got to get back to the bar. You don't want to see what happens when a werewolf can't get a drink." The old vampire nodded, and briskly left the soundproof room, closing the door behind him.

"Alright!", Noor roared, rubbing her hands together excitedly and running back to her corner to retrieve her briefcase. "I've got a good amount of preliminary evidence from the crime scenes which I'm sure you're all itching to look at, including..." For a moment, it seemed that the dragon's arm had disappeared much too far into the case, and it came out holding a large plexiglass urn that couldn't possibly have fit inside. "This! You see, one of the victims was a vampire, and [i]this[/i] is what's left of him. Notice the places where the ash is blackened? Holy Water. Nasty way to go, I've heard. Anyway, here, you hold it," she said absently, tossing the urn at random to Frank. "What else, what else... Ah." Next was a slender laptop, which she booted up, and opened a folder on the desktop labeled "A Weird One". "There you are. All of my pictures from the crime scenes, including quite a bit of data from the human detectives, all of my notes and speculations so far, it's all there. Go hog wild. Too bad they were smart, and barely left any trail to follow, or I might not have needed any help... Anyway, once we all know the basic facts, we can put our heads together and figure out how we're going to go about catching these bastards. Any questions, new bloods?"