September 5, 1830
Greenwich, England
Council of Shadows

The sun had started to set behind the edge of the earth, the cool breeze of autumn throwing dandelion's into the air as if decorating the moment perfectly for them. England had yet to see the true effects of winter, summer hanging on with consorted effort and pressing with sustained might to keep the air temperature most pleasant. That evening would began a three night council meeting where the shadow walkers would join together to discern issues common to them and try to work through various agreements and concordances with one another. It was assured to be filled with tension and bickering, but Seraphine had been in the center of the circle for a very long stay and cared not what was presented or in what manner, only that it was discussed and a decision was made. Her mind was far from the cold circular room that the meeting would be in as everything was set perfectly and ready for nightfall to arrive. She stood in the shadows of a watch tower with the sun hidden behind her and the man she loved in her arms.

It was forbidden and though she wished that she could find the strength to let him go, she could not and would rather give up her position and title than allow the council to step between the two of them. He smiled at her, the warmth of his welcome, the strength in his embrace could not leave her without returning the gesture. So many years she'd lived for vengeance and retribution and found love a weakness to exploit in others, but to never take it into her own bosom. Things drastically changed more than a century ago when she was assigned to work along side the next Alpha male from the council to discern the propagation of the church and the success they'd held thus far in expansion.

The task was most challenging and the two had to work closely together, their relationship at first quite hostile and unyielding. It wasn't until she was in grave danger one night, surrounded by a large group of hunters that he risked himself to save her and through his bravery they both escaped. The resounding effects of his willingness to sacrifice himself took them to a place she never imagined and one that would have them tried my the council and killed. She looked into the warm chocolate colored gaze that continued to focus on nothing but her as her fingers ran along the soft skin on his shoulder, the muscles so beautiful and on display for her pleasure.

"What is it that takes you from me, Sera? You are not in this moment from me, my love." He pulled her tighter, the nakedness of their bodies tugging at a hunger that lay in the core of her being. She let her eyes drift along his strong features, memorizing each one as if she could feel the plague of loss hanging tightly overhead.

"I am just concerned that we will not be able to keep confidences, Felix. Tonight the council will meet and after your coronation to Alpha you will hold the chair for your pack. To have us both holding a chair almost gives us a majority run of the group and I'd not want anyone to ever think that we worked together to gain some nefarious advantage. I live for my people and I die for them as well." She bit at her lip, long chestnut hair danced around them as the wind chilled his skin and left her wanting to comfort him. Their afternoon of love making was never enough for her and she waited for these meetings to see him again. To meet up outside of England was too dangerous and so they lived lives that were split in two, both of them almost sick with not having the other by their side.

"No one will ever know, Sera. It is our secret to take to the grave. Come now... let us not waste our time worrying. Hush and let me enjoy you." He smiled and she couldn't help but smirk at him. His arms tightened and pulled her into a compressed embrace, a large hand sliding into her hair and beckoning her rest her had against his shoulder as he caressed her. She let all thought dissipate and closed her eyes, the smell of his skin divine and earthy, the strength of his body perfect and comforting. Her soft crimson lips brushed along his shoulder as he made a small sound of appreciation and the rest of the afternoon was lost to the desires one the other.

---

It wasn't until later than evening that Seraphine discovered the small golden locket in the pocket of her black slacks, her fingers twirling around the cold metal for a moment before realizing that something was out of place. She pulled it up as she headed toward the council room, each species given a separate waiting room where they could meet and discuss their agenda items and strategize or vote for a common cause. She'd invited Walter, Petra and Lucius to join her. Petra would sit on the Winter Council as her second in command and after that each of them would take a turn. She wanted to see them in action before making a decision of that brevity because when she was done, they would take her place as head of the Vampiric Coven.

The light caught the locket as she moved, her long dark hair swaying behind her and no color to be found on her outside of her crimson lips and matching heels. Her silky black top wrapped tightly around her and she knew it was a bold move, but to tease Felix with her beauty would make the night go by so much faster. The small golden teardrop hung from a sort chain and inscribed on the back was "forever yours." She slipped it on before moving into the cold confines of the Vampire Waiting Room, her eyes on the blood wine already prepared and her mind of a handsome wolf that had given her a reason to truly live again.

"Yes baby.. you are," she whispered and licked at her lips.

Things always got interesting in the Council of Shadows. The reason that they had named it that was still beyond him, but it was when the oldest and deadliest things on earth got together to discuss what the creatures that they represented were getting into. Trouble, when it came to creatures like demons, lupines.... Lycans, Mephistos mentally corrected himself, and vampires could get into were of epic proportions. There were days that their actions were not regulated by the efforts efforts of their elders, a time when they fought against the humans in battles. Mephistos shuddered slightly. Dagon had been one for battles and war, not him. He was of a darker, more shadowy purpose, subtle as a dagger slipped between ribs with a lover's kiss to take the pain away. Dagon's subtlety amounted to little more than a cannon ball to the face.

He always came up with a new analogy for it, and each time it made him chuckle. He was so amusing.

But he wasn't headed for the council, not yet. If he was late, His second in command would start things up without him. Demons all had one thing in common in their DNA and that was trustworthiness, which meant, in reflection, that they trusted no one. Werewolves were beasts, and while far from mindless, their wolf half had a mind of it's own. It was like having a race of people with dual-personalities, he remembered telling Dagon. Vampires were addicts, all their troubles and problems surrounding their need for human blood. It was almost galling to be seen as similar to them, but it was a fact that he had to live with.

He sighed and straightened his tie. He needed to take care of something first. Walking through the cobblestones of the city, he slipped into an alleyway. At the end was a small opening leading to an ill-lit area. He moved to the first door on the right. He knocked on it and waited politely.

A man opened the door. Mephistos winced a bit. The man could fell an ox with that stench. Humans were almost not worth leaving alive. Almost.

"And what would you be wantin' then? Oi!" The man exclaimed as Mephistos pushed right past him into the room. It was of similar stench of it's occupant," Get the fuck outta my 'ouse."

"Trust me, nothing would please me more," Mephistos said in that odd, off-beat way of his, smiling broadly.His accent was odd. Not quite British, although it had a few traits and not quite American.

"Well I suggest you leave then."

"And I suggest taking a shower a couple times a week, and cleaning this place up. Oh, and less onions in future meals."

"Wha..."

"I'm looking for a man, and believe me, the term man comes applying very loosely to this situation. About," He raised his hand more than a foot taller than his own head," Seven-five, bald, muscled, ugly as a man whose face caught fire and had it put out with a shovel. Dresses... well, like you. Have you seen him?"

"I ain't telling you nothing," The man growled, his hand snaking for a club that he had hidden. The move was supposed to be quick and furtive, but it ended up being obvious and slow. Mephistos smiled and decided to give the man a fighting chance, turning his back.

"Oh I'm sure you won't tell me nothing, Mr. Ames. Your life depends on you telling me... everything."

What happened next would have befuddled a human with the speed of it. The club came swinging high, for his head. He blocked it with his right forearm, his left hand coming around to snatch the weapon out of his hand, with a swift kick to Mr. Ames' gut sending him flying into a nearby wall. He hit it, but before he could drop, Mephistos has snapped the club in two, sending the handle half, now a spiked dart, into Ames' shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

The scream of pain was... breathtaking.

"Now," Mephistos continued in the same dull and bored voice that he had started out with," Seven-five, Bald, ugly. Where is he?"

No answer. Instead he heard a whined," What the fuck did you do that for?"

Mephistos face contorted to show his slight annoyance, and he stepped over to where Ames was pinned a few inches from the ground," Answer," He punctuated the word with a tap from the part of the club that was still in his hand to the bit holding Ames in place," The... Fucking... Question," Four words, four taps, four screams.

"Alright, Alright, I'll fucking tell you," The man whimpered," The man's name is James..."

"Don't care about his name. He uses a fake one now anyways," Another tap to the club part," Stay on track Mr. Ames. I asked you where he is, n... not about his love life," Mephistos paused as the man coughed and blood splattered his face. Others would have found offense in that. He didn't.

"He left for London three days ago," Ames said, still coughing," Said he was waiting for someone there. Said for me not to expect him back here neither. I swear, that's all I know."

Mephistos, with a morbid curiosity, ran a finger through the blood on his face and tasted it. It tasted of garlic too. Vampires wouldn't dare touch him, he thought with a laugh.

"What's so funny?" Asked the man pinned to the wall.

"Nothing you would understand, Mr. Ames. I believe you," And with that he spun on his heel and made for the door.

"Hey," Ames called after him," You can't fucking leave me like this. It ain't right."

Mephistos turned to him and smiled," You're absolutely right," His left hand flickered up, and with blinding speed, the second half of the club hammered into Ames, smashing his head and brains into the wall behind him. Mephistos tilted his head. It was almost an artistic spread. He shook his head and left the fetid room. Looking up, and around himself, to make sure he wasn't being watched, he jumped into the air, a flash of light flickering through the dank alleyway and a Harpy eagle took flight, it's wings flaring and flapping, speeding him to the council building. Once there, he slipped back into his human form, adjusting his tie again and using a kerchief to wipe the rest of Ames' blood off of his face before entering the Demon's waiting room, sitting down and pulling a newspaper from a nearby shelf, skimming over it.

England had little to offer in the way of entertainment and yet anywhere Ashtaroth was she seemed capable of creating and sustain her own. A long blood red nail twirled through her chestnut locks as she watched various males and females wonder by her on their way toward the river that sat just below the overhang. Unsuspecting humans milling about and enjoying each others company while sneaking glances her way in morbid curiosity of who she was and why she was dressed so well with seemingly no where to go. A smile touched her mouth at the private party her general was having, his ways so refined compared to Dagon's and yet she preferred less finesse and more action, but that was the aggressive side of her father bleeding out through her depraved thoughts. She waved at a group of younger males that slowed just before her, one of the larger ones gaining his bravado and stepping out from the group to walk toward her.

"No further please," she whispered and held up her hand, the soft flow of her red silk gown drawing his eyes to move as the fabric did. He stood ever so still as she continued to twirl her hair, her own gaze moving to see what his friends thought of her invisible power over him. All men wanting something beautiful to dangle in front of their friends, their appreciation not for the object of desire, but for the resounding edification received in their own character for owning something better than they. She tilted her head, allowing her hair to drape down her feminine frame, her heels three inches with long silk straps running up to just above her shapely calf. No one spoke a word as if time stood still and perhaps for them it did, but she toyed silently with the idea of marching each of them to their death with the desires of her nefarious spirit before realizing that she would be late.

Letting them go she giggled softly, letting her fingers brush the chest of the large male who awaited her invitation to come closer. She whispered an apology and moved through the night, her body nothing more than a soft pale crimson smoke as she traveled to the Museum where the council meeting would take place. She felt Mephistos near and smelled blood in the air, assuming that the vamps had a buffet of sorts or her general had taken it upon himself to wreak a little havoc that evening. Something about the later observance made her growl with hunger. Violence was like a fine wine and her appetite grew with each occurrence she was afforded. The Museum itself was magnificent, the cream colored tiles etched with gold writing spelled out the tale of the gods from a story in Greek Mythology she'd read over the shoulder of the man who'd penned it. The Latin inscription was breathtaking and yet her mind moved from the beauty around in her search of the divine smell of aggression.

She slipped into the great hall and turned a sharp right to enter the room where the demon's would meet before the council meeting only to find Mephistos already there. She closed the door behind her, pressing her back against the solid structure and allowing her hands to remain locked behind her as she gave him the once over, looking along his suit and making sure that he fit the part so perfectly that people welcomed his ideas and thoughts because why the fuck wouldn't you? A smirk touched her perfect mouth and she moved toward him with her head held high, circling his chair and leaning over the back of him while he read his paper. The small scar just below his left eye was a battle scar that he earned through bravado and cunningness. She liked it. Her job was to divert attention for him and keep everyone nodding their heads for the power couple that they were as rulers.

"You missed a spot," Ash whispered as she licked the sticky pungent blood from below his ear, nipping at the lobe once before standing up and calming her spirits. She moved toward a full-length window and looked out at the grounds, putting her back to him and showing off the beauty of her figure where very little silk offered coverage. Her voice was all business, but her demeanor ached for adventure. "Tonight should be quite interesting, old friend. The Circle of Elders has been busy and I do believe our friends of other races will be most interested in some of the information I've uncovered."

Roses and lust filled Felix' nose even long after he and Sera had parted ways to prepare for the meeting that night. He stood upon a balcony outside his own room in the castle, now dressed and ready for the meeting. He closed his eyes, a blissful smile resting on his face as he thought about how the rest of the evening after the council would play out. A powerful hand clapped onto his shoulder before being joined by a voice full of disgust.

"Again I approach you, and once more you reek of corpse, brother," Adrian said.

Felix smirked and shook his head, "That is because you take after father and scents are what you believe them to be. Your mind fools your nose," Felix replied, having not opened his eyes as he breathed the fresh air from so high up.

"I disagree... perhaps I am merely more attuned to it than you are," Adrian argued with clear disdain, crossing his arms. "It's a disgrace... But it's also none of my business," He stated before stepping away. "I'll see you at the meeting, brother... Do try to be civil."

"I'm always civil, Adrian, but thank you for your concern," Felix waved his hand in farewell before looking out to the forest. It sure did feel like a fine afternoon for a walk - help him gather his thoughts before the meeting...

---

Finnegan O'Shaugnessy, a large, middle-aged brute of a man looked to the rest of his pack. He was now two-hundred-and-fifty years old and the Alpha of the most esteemed pack in the world. Soon, he was to hand off the gauntlet to Felix Allistor and take his retirement in stride. However, the leader-to-be had yet to appear, though it was unlike him to be late for anything. The Alpha looked over the others before resting his eyes wearily on Adrian and beckoning him forward.

"Adrian... You will be my right-hand this evening, understood? Don't speak and don't look at anybody wrong. We just need somebody in that chair and the others can relate you to him, even if you aren't. Speak only when spoken to, and only the bare minimum. I've been doing this for nearly a hundred years... Just... Do not ruin it," He said sharply.

Adrian shook his head, "Sir, with all due respect... This is not a good idea... I believe perhaps you would be better to take another in until Felix returns - after all, whatever is keeping him is certainly important and he will likely return soon, yes?"

"You will do as I say. For this evening, you are your brother until we can find him once more." The Alpha looked down somberly - he was still required to step down... If Felix did not return, then he would inevitably have to crown Adrian in his place.

Finally, Finnegan looked around at the highly ranked members of his pack who had all been invited to observe the meeting, placing his hands behind his back. "All of you, listen. Felix, our brother, has not yet returned to the castle... He left earlier and there has yet to be any word from him; in order to keep from delaying the meeting, Adrian shall be joining me at the delegation. As far as all of you are concerned, there is no issue. Adrian and his brother are one and the same tonight - Adrian is Felix and you shall refer to him as such until we are able to recover our missing comrade. Nothing is out of the ordinary," He said, looking to Abigail; she was Adrian's since he had turned her - it was his job to make sure that she adapted to the new life and understood the rules and that she quickly met the standards of their pack. "None of you have seen him, have you?"

Adrian looked over at her curiously, wondering why the Alpha would asked Abigail of all people. She was neither his mate nor one who kept track of wherever he went. Then again, he realized the man was addressing the pack and sighed, looking out of the window tiredly. He needed his brother back... he was not leadership material nor diplomatic... That was why he had always been with the other man - he liked his position...

The most wonderful thing about England was the generosity and politeness of the people living in high society. The men would always gift a fine lady some jewelry for a wondrous evening. Or even better, if you let them believe they had one. No matter how far the gentleman was flirting with Madeline, no matter how much she accepted. There was always a noisy wife with a bad sense of humor.

Even this night, the grand night of the Shadow Council meeting, Madeline was not even remotely close to show up in time. They would take forever in their waiting rooms anyway. She enjoyed a walk at early evening. A well suited man would show up sooner or later.

As Madeline walked through the streets, dressed in a fine silk dress from an Indian trade merchant with a very fine accent and a great taste, she noticed a young man standing alone, his eyes wandering across the streets.

"Good evening, dear sir. What is such a handsome looking man doing alone?", Madeline approached the man. His eyes were watching the slender figure with curiosity. Smiling, he walked at the woman. "So you are the fine lady I should meet?" He gave Madeline another look of satisfaction. Despite the fact that Madeline did not know anything about the man, she enjoyed this little play.

"Perhaps I am, or maybe I am not. It all depends on what you want me to be." She crawled an arm around the man's waist, gently tucking at his belt. A playful chuckle escaped the woman's lips. The other hand rested on his shoulder, leaving the two look like a loving couple walking down the street. This was one of the few things that the Demon enjoyed more than having to stick to people for too long; pickpocketing. Her favorite hobby amongst banquets.

There was the usual chit-chat. The man was very shy about himself. He kept talking about his father's work too much, trying to impress Madeline. She played the naive girl, smiling, nodding and giggling. In the meantime, she was moving her hand from the waistline around the man's belt. It was not too difficult to let her hands slip into the pockets of his pants and his jacket. He did not notice a thing anyway.

"So, what is your name?", the man asked after a long walk along the Thames. The Demon sighed, her eyes trailing off. To her luck, she had the Big Ben in sight. She gasped in shock and clapped her hands together. "Ah~! I am so sorry... I must have found the wrong guy. I was supposed to meet him over at the Tower Bridge."

She dashed off, leaving the man confused for a moment, until he noticed the lighter weight on his clothes. But before he could yell for the police, or run after her. In the next backalley, Madeline used her demonic powers to travel through the nightsky as a black smoke towards Greenwich.

Once she arrived at the building, she returned to human form, gently tugging at her dress to remove wrinkles. She made her way through the halls and towards the Demon waiting room. Her politeness made her knock at the door, before peeking in a head. "Ah! What a wonderful evening, right?", she called into the room, seeing not many that have arrived. Even after stepping into the room, Madeline was doing her best to make a good impression. This was her third, or fourth she could not remember, meeting she attended. There were still faces she would require to meet and greet.

Clapping her hands, she walked over to Mephistos and leaned against the chair, smirking. "Good evening, my dearest fellow kin. How have you been around?"

---

The night was cool to the fur of the beast. The change of seasons was beginning. For Fenris, this was not a great deal. It would mean that he would need to hunt closer to the cities. He enjoyed the night's out. A very fine scent always lied in the air. The scent of food.

There was the sheep herds that weren't taken care of well enough. Some strayed. In this case, it was a small lamb, resting below an oak. It shivered, but soon it would not move at all. It was the right meal for this night. Advancing on the animal, the massive beast clawed at the ground to gain some speed. Making a sharp snarl, the little distance between predator and prey was closed with a leap. The perfect attack on a helpless animal. Even if the lamb would have woken up sooner, it could not have gotten out of reach.

The scream of the lamb was silenced. The scent of blood rushed into the air like a beast unleashed from a cage. And the wolf found it's meal. Gnawing against the bones, ripping off flesh and devouring the precious hunt, Fenris enjoyed every single moment. He was not letting any meat or organ go to waste and from what he noticed, this lamb was not enough to withstand human form for a long period. He would need to hunt sooner or later within the meeting. The problem was that Greenwich was not the most open place for a massive werewolf to hunt. He would get noticed sooner or later.

With a blood soaked face, the wolf rose, hearing a faint sound from a bush nearby. Another animal. More food. Since he ate the lamb and left only bones and wool, Fenris dashed forth, aiming for the source of the sound. But he found nothing, even after he tracked the scent. It must have been a bird, noticing the cold murder of the livestock. Nature always has a witness, yet none raise their voice.

Seeing that there was no way around this, Fenris made haste to reach the borders of human land. For a werewolf of his size, he was able to take great distances in no time. As lights began to flicker in the eyes and a strange, foul scent grew to the nostrils, it was time for the werewolf to subside.

With massive pain and suffering, the creature crammed it's muscles, pushed ribs and limbs together and slowly faded in size. The fur slowly disappeared within the man's skin, as Fenris regained his human form. He breathed heavily, his eyes adjusting back to the lights and colors. His left eye itched, his throat was dry. The simple problems of a human. And some wool stuck between his teeth...

Sneaking his usual way to his stash at a nearby farm, Fenris took his fur coat and clothed himself in it. It reeked of wet dog and hay, much to the man's disgust. The farmer's dogs must have found it comforting to rest in it from time to time. Nevertheless, the man had to go to Greenwich. He had a whole day to travel at the roads of men. He did not mind it a bit.

The travel was easy to the feet, even with a lack of shoes. He arrived at Greenwich by dinner time, enough to stretch and rest, before the council would meet. While Fenris rested on a bench, he noticed a few people that were coming and going, many of those were of the same kin. Demon, Werewolf and Vampires alike. It was not much of the man's concern, though, until he decided to enter the building himself.

The room was already unsettling to Fenris the moment he stepped in. There was not enough space to move freely. There were too many people in it and most of all, they were all reeking of sewage, or so Fenris thought. He was not a man of the city, so he disliked the scent of it. Even more disliking, he smelled cooked meat. A fine treat for a man, but these men in the room were far from human. If they were all such weak pups to eat only cooked flesh, they might as well wear a leash...

Taking a seat in a corner, Fenris watched the commotion with interest. Maybe something worth listening to might come up.

Staring, staring through the rainstreaked glass – droplets spattering endlessly against the iron sash, something in his head to clear that couldn't quite be cleansed. The sun was setting, but her progress was difficult to gauge; the horizon nothing but a smudge of black clouds, the rains rattling against the panes as Lucius continued to watch. The keening wail of a violin wafted through the damp in the air, bringing a little warmth to the room as it wound its way about the cold ashes of the hearth, the dead lamps sitting upon the tables, whispered over the rug to creep up behind and trill softly into his ear. A sigh followed. His hands clasped, unclasped. He turned, walked to the table and refilled the empty glass.

Settling himself comfortably in his favoured chair -- perched at an angle to the dead fire – one leg propped against his knee, one hand clasped about his ankle, the glass balanced precisely in the other, he proceeded to watch.

“So very... melancholy...” he whispered to himself, voice scarcely loud enough to carry past the tenuous notes of the weeping instrument; a thin smile formed on his lips – one he swiftly masks with a sip from the tumbler. But she does not see, her own gaze downcast, eyes half lidded, body swaying to and fro with each quavering note... his own eyes close as well, the smile coming unbidden to his lips once more as a memory carries him away with the rising swell of the music...

A grey evening, overcast and clouded – one he knew they would love. One he had waited for so long now himself. No other would do, so he had long since planned. She was smiling then, giggling and blushing as she lowered the bow and looked toward the trampled grass below, avoiding her lover's gaze. They stood upon the crest of the hill, gazing toward the endless sea of grey green below, the moor stretching out before them in vast expanse; suddenly, without warning, she lays a slender hand on his breast – exclaims as her eyes go wide:

“What was that!” He starts, pauses a moment – a frown quickly erased, a smile replaced as he waves a hand.

“Nothing my dear, nothing at all! I'm sure of it!” She smiles at this, but it is uneasy now. I smile myself – smile in anticipation as she lifts the bow to the strings again, allow my eyes to drift shut as I strain to hear... to hear her breath, to hear every motion, as though I could hear every beautiful emotion as they reveal themselves through the strings. But the music stops. My eyes snap open. Something, somewhere – some irrepressible urge in the deepest recesses of my mind – the tension that had been waiting so long, the release I had desired. Waited, denied myself – even tortured my own being – and now I sprang. Sprang in that very moment as the music stops, as he reaches to envelope her in their last embrace.

The screams. I know – know as surely as I feel them myself, as the music changes, as the tones become erratic – know she feels them too, remembers as clearly as our thoughts and memories of the time have become entwined. And then it stops. The last few notes quiver into a final profusion of disarray, trail away into weeping. Tears and sobbing. The violin clatters to the tiled floor, the distinct crack of aged wood on hard stone. I rise and pad softly over to where she sits. Thrust my index finger beneath her chin, raise the tearful eyes to stare forcefully into my own.

“You were wonderful... my dear... exquisite...” Her face blanches at this, and she manages a moment to snarl – one delicate lip curling upward in disgust, one newly acquired fang glinting in the glare of the solitary chandelier dangling from the rafters far above our heads. Some strength in this one! I laugh. Release her from my gaze, allow her to bury her stricken face in her hands, sob after sob wracking her form as I stalk my way back to the window.

'Strong...” I mutter, quietly to myself – outside her hearing now, not that it matters. “But not strong enough; what did his blood taste of to you I wonder?” I raise my voice, though her answer concerns me little; something in the intensity of the tears as they break out anew, however, is all the reply I seek. “Yours was sweeter, sweeter by far my dear. And just think!” Here I pause, gaze out into the deepening shadows beyond, gesture vaguely with the now-empty glass: “He gave you everything he promised. Even his own life, down to the last drop of blood. How perfect! Might anyone have conceived of a love so pure?”

A rage now, a rage as simple and directed as the same that led her to destroy her own beloved – I sense her rushing up behind me long before, perhaps, she is even aware of the motion herself. A swift step to the side, a benevolent smile as I grab her by the throat and force her to the floor all in an instant; her breath is hot on my face, her eyes wide, pupils empty voids.

'Shhh... Careful, dear – and what happens when we allow ourselves to become so?” Her energy spent, she can do nothing but lie there as I rise again and turn to leave; sobs alternate with rasping gasps for air as both fists flex convulsively.

I revel in it. Revel in the pain, revel in the revulsion – turn to watch her writhe upon the floor, caught somewhere in the midst of her own revilement and self pity, before turning and slamming shut the door.

**********

Lucius drew a deep breath of the bracing night air; the council was not far from his his secluded haunt on the moors, and there was something he found enjoyable in this otherwise humanely pedestrian manner of travel – a horse surging beneath his legs, obeying his will as he chose to exert it, the rush of air on his face, the faint memories of centuries so long past as to be nearing the point of oblivion.

Punctuality, in all the space of time between, had never been his weakness, and so Lucius found himself lurking in the corner of the Council's waiting chambers, partially through his first glass of bloodwine before he sensed Seraphine's approach – his was a reverie not yet to be broken, however, and he did not at once acknowledge her presence, thoughts seeming lost in his memories of the evening's entertainment as the goblet spins idly beneath restless fingers.

Sunlight streaked through the light yellow curtains in the room she'd gotten for herself, some part of her humanity still wanting and yearning for the comforts that life had yet to afford her. Abigail lifted her arms far above her head, her long fingers grasping awkwardly onto the cherry wood head board and pulling as she deepened her stretch. Her dark brown locks spayed out on the white sheets around her as if framing her for a pose of sorts, but she took no notice of the beautiful that surrounded her persona, too excited about the evening and the events to come. This would be the first counsel meeting where she would get to see Felix in action, his authority and yet calming presence made him perfect to be the next Alpha. She would be his second in command beside Adrian because they'd grown close over the years and where he was diplomacy at its finest, she was a fighter and had a passion for the pack that spilled over into everything she did and the way she lived her life.

Where she was good for the pack, Felix was better.

A smile touched her mouth as she finally pulled herself from the twisted sheets, a night of chasing after bunny rabbits and such... something like that. She showered quickly and slipped into a pair of gray slacks and a light blue silk blouse, her long hair left down and wild, the very essence of her mentality shown in her desire to fit in and yet not too much. Simple black shoes and a little pampering and she was moving into the late afternoon sunset, the sky filled with the colors of fall. Abby took a moment to cease her progress and just enjoy the scene laid before her, the world so busy in its efforts to get ahead, all the while missing out on some of the most astounding pleasures that were simply free and available.

The sound of a small child running by after a rolling red ball pulled her from her reverie and she laughed under her breath at the little toddler. Throwing caution to the wind she caught up with him and reached to stop the ball as his father run up almost frantic. He thanked her more than a few times, but she had only attention for the child, handing him the ball and touching his cute button-like nose before moving toward the grand museum. Other members of her race milled about, some she knew and others would be less familiar to her. Pack leaders from all around the country would be in attendance and her job was to watch the Alpha's back and support from his side. Picking up her pace she ran to the small room where Finnegan stood near the front with Adrian.

She let her gaze move across everyone, a concerned look painting its way across her features as she shrugged at Adrian as if to ask where Felix was. The ceremony should've started and yet it seemed Felix was nowhere to be found which was most odd. She found a chair to sit down in near the front, her long hair swaying about her as she shook her head at Finnegan's quest.

"No, my Alpha. I have not seen him, but will look for him as soon as you give me the word," she spoke with confidence and loudly so that her voice would carry and her place would be set.

"No, Abigail. We will put up a facade and play a farce tonight. You will join me and Adrian.." he coughed, "Felix at the table. Do you hear?"

She nodded and waited until everything died down a bit, her eyes moving around the room in search of Sophie as she walked toward Adrian. Stopping just beside him as he gazed at nothingness beyond the window he stood before, Abigail reached out and touched his shoulder. "Should I be worried, Adrian? When is the last time you saw him? What was he doing? What the hell could he be doing now?" She bit her lip as she waited for her personal creator to speak.

The Demon's eyes flickered upwards at his second in command as she entered. Even with his long experience on this planet and being well used tot his body, even he couldn't help but feel that sudden surge of feeling that came with being in the same room with her. The woman exuded sexuality, breathed it, lived it and yet her face was the picture of the innocence of youth. The feeling was quickly and easily quelled, but the fact that she could affect him at all was a testament to her skills. Succubi were such wondrous creatures, and so very annoying.

Even now, as he felt himself almost forced to run his pale blue eyes over her form, poorly hidden by that silken, velvet dress that she wore. It should have annoyed him, but all he could do was smile. He wouldn't trust the woman with a pound note but she was incredibly beautiful.

"You arrived, how nice," He said, not standing and turning his eyes back to the newspaper, feeling that chill of pleasure as he felt her tongue moving over his skin. Again, he should have been annoyed, but they had played this game for far to long. All he did was smile and instead of fighting the sensation, he reveled in it, enjoyed it. The only thing that kept him sane in his long, long life was the fact that he could enjoy the simple pleasures of life. The simple laughs. Besides, fighting the sensations only made them stronger. That was how the Succubus worked.

"I have a feeling you have been wanting to do that for at least 50 years," He looked firmly into her eyes, idly running his hand over the patch of wet skin. One eyebrow raised when she spoke of news," Oh? You sure you don't want to... share this information with me beforehand, or just let me pretend I already knew of it when you share it with our fellow Council members. You know I hate having to pretend," He leaned back in his seat, his eyes flickering towards the door where another one of their extended family stepped in. He smiled. A young demon, comparatively, but she was bubbling with promise. Her origins, both on earth and in the world below were still a mystery, and unlike most people, Mephistos liked mysteries. Again, the small pleasures of life.

"Oh, same old, same..." He paused in the middle of sentence. Was he really going with pleasant and inane banter? He was growing soft in his old age. He left his sentence where it was and went back to reading his paper.

She was positive -- mostly positive -- that she was supposed to be somewhere, only that somewhere could have been virtually anywhere, and so positivity helped naught.

"Well," Sophie chuckled aloud as she dangled from the lowest branches of a stout apple tree, her silver hair catching mud and dew in the grass, "I suppose it can't be anywhere. I know for certain that we're not meant to be meeting on the moon, nor the bottom of the ocean, so that's two down."

Four an a half feet above her head, a squirrel, likely doing that thing squirrels do, squirreling away things for the coming winter, despite the fantastic weather, ran across her shins where they hooked at her knee over a limb that had been previously bowed low with ripe apples.

Sophie didn't even think as her soft features became at once more lupine and she lunged, however playfully, at the tiny rodent. And she had always been fast, but agility and balance were new gifts, a lá her new lycanthropy, and not quite as inherent as one might like to believe. She'd actually wrapped a hand around the tiny beast's tail before remembering she was dangling from a tree and crashing the rest of the way to the ground.

The way she swore might have been called unladylike if the tattered apron she wore over overlong breeches had not been dangling in her face for the last quarter of an hour. She lay, curled on the ground, lightly dazed, and giggling at her own ineptitude, her hair creating a silver-white halo around her in the dark grass. The squirrel overhead chittered quite pompously, and Sophie felt she had no choice but to stick her tongue out.

She could feel the remnant dampness of the grass beneath her soaking into the borrowed dress from the tavern where she'd stayed the night. There was a reason she'd borrowed a dress. She was supposed to look 'presentable'. That had been the word given to her when Abigail -- oh! Abigail! The circle! The council! The...well, it was something beginning with a c, and given that the sun was already kissing the sky goodnight, she could more than figure she was running late.

She scrambled to her feet with a grace that might have surprised anyone who'd seen her tumble out of the tree and all but darted from the edges of the orchard to the depths of the Council's waiting chambers, colliding with more than one patron on her way. Again, her speed was admirable, but by the time she reached the chambers, she was no longer nearly as presentable as she'd originally intended.

A shame, however uncomfortable and boring 'presentable' might have been. And now Abigail would never even know she'd tried.

Eventually, opening his eyes and stirring in his chair, Lucius speaks from his corner opposite the door:

“Good evening... Mother...” I pause here a moment, allow myself a sip from the swiftly draining glass – I often wonder if the term irritates her; sometimes I half fancy it does, but the game is all in the guessing – or so they say, and so I tilt my head to the side. Allow myself a moment to fancy her reaction before I continue.

“As ravishingly cold as ever; still, you seem distracted, perhaps. Is this meeting of such importance?” While my words work one way, my eyes dart briefly toward the pendant hanging from her neck, then just as swiftly elsewhere. I can sense a strange buzz of emotion about her – something I would not have guessed at in her before – still, the truer meaning I could no sooner make out than to claim the ability to sort through every thread of thought and feeling that found itself shared between the two of us.

I allow the answer to sort itself out, only moving enough to reposition myself more comfortably in the chair and await the response.

***

His words were spoken with a degree of testing and Sera had grown used to him and with her age cared not what he called her. They all had names for her and yet it was the fact that they called that remained central to the relationship. She turned from her place along the full length window, her hair pulled tightly into place at this point as she readied herself for whatever might be presented her as the head of her race. Lucius was digging and she alone had the ability to shut him down. She smiled with nefarious intent and closed off her thoughts to him, a knowing smile on her lips as she moved across the room with grace and balanced perfectly on the arm of the chair just in front of him.

"One most readily uses the term "mother" as a symbol of endearment, love, but I feel perhaps you use it for something else, no?" She smiled and let her facade soften for just a moment, her head nodding in response to his question. "I am quite distracted. For a long time I've kept us from the view of the hunters and yet something strange lurks in the air. It's almost as if I can sense it or see it - whatever it is.. it's not good for us, my pet."

There was nothing more satisfying than playing his game for a moment, her nickname a bit of a pinch to his persona and she reveled in it without as much as an emotional flitter along her lovely face. She touched the pendant. "A gift.. from the wolves."

***

A momentary quirk of his lips quickly masked with a sly smile – knowing, almost, in its extent – was all Lucius chose to show of his faint irritation with the term; all these centuries later, and such things might tickle his pride. But perhaps irritation just as much in the mere fact that her words could rankle him so easily as any actual irritation with the words themselves. His pride twinged, maybe, but not his composure. Holding the same smile a moment longer, he sets the goblet down upon the table beside him with a soft clink, the only sound to be heard as he settles back in his chair, crosses his legs before him and presses the tips of his fingertips together. He does not speak for a few moments, merely eying Sera from beneath half lidded eyes, index fingers resting neatly in the hollow just beneath lower lip and chin.

“Hmm... the wolves, is it?” His words – posed as a question – clearly need no answering, as he does not pause long enough to allow so much as a reply; rather he rests his hands back again on the arms of his chair, props a leg against his knee again and speaks once more:

“Perhaps I might tell you a story, Mother – time permitting... which, as it is, I believe it does. It concerns a certain youth who's family dwells not far from my estate. As I recall, this child had a certain dog of whom he was very fond; the two had known one another for years, and been privy together to a great many romps and childishly quaint adventures. I know all this, you see... “ Lucius pauses mid-sentence, reaches for his wine and takes another sip – his eyes do not leave Sera's features all the while, nor does the small hint of a smile vanish from his lips.

“Know this, because often would I encounter the two of them, walking alone together at dusk upon the verge of the moors; childhood companions to the end, or so it would seem. Seem until the day I heard the boy calling endlessly for the creature one evening, and I – having little better to do with myself at the time – directed my course toward the calls. But I was no more than a short ways into the venture when the calls turned to screams, and then the growling and roaring of some creature enraged.” The smile now, it seems, has grown a little – he takes another sip of wine, leans forward in his chair and continues:

“You might, of course, guess easily what I found next: the boy, bleeding upon the ground, his face torn open, throat still pulsing the last threads of his lifeblood upon the dark ground. The beast was nowhere to be seen, but as I learned afterward the enraged creature managed to rampage all the way back to what was once its home, to tear out the throat of the family's youngest daughter and to finally meet its end upon the spike of the farmer's pitchfork.”

Lucius swirls the glass of wine in his hand, drains the last drops before standing abruptly and making his way to the decanter; he glances sidelong at Seraphine as he does so, mentioning quietly whilst in the midst of pouring the wine:

“But it is merely a story, you see – real as the events might have been -- perhaps your mention of dogs... or, wolves – that is – brought it to mind. As for the hunters... well, mayhap there is some silver lining – in that we shall not become complacent after having dwelt so long in the shadows. The world is changing, and time is moving – I do not believe either of us intend for our kind to be left behind. If boodshed and strife is to mark the changing of another age... well, that would only be what one might expect.”

***

Her eyes turned the color of life slowly as he told his story, the smooth sound of his voice taking her quickly to a scene that promised a most fitting death for humans, the filthy creatures that they were. She moved toward him with intent, stopping just behind him as she pressed her chest to his back, her hands sliding up the front of his chest as she locked him to her and laughed softly before nipping at the side of his jaw.

"Beautiful story, now stop peering into the future and help me rule the moment as you're called to do." She pressed her small nose to his shoulder and breathed in deeply, the very essence of him smelling like home. She moved back and turned to great their final member, a smirk on her lovely face. "You are late."

Her mood was volatile, to say the least. Sitting behind her desk, looking at reports submitted by her employees, Petra was getting hungry. A hunger insatiable by normal means. Having assumed her family’s import/export business, her days were filled with numbers, numbers, and even more numbers. Why had she even bothered? After decades of doing the same thing over and over, changing her name and faking many deaths as needed to make things believable, it was all so exhausting.

Reading in the master study of her estate, the window curtains were tied to either side. It was night; the sun couldn’t touch her in these hours of solace. Even though it’d kill her, Petra couldn’t forget the magnificence of the great source of light. She loved its shine. It was a remembrance of her past — a remembrance she hated but couldn’t let go.

As she finished reading one report, a knock rapped against the door. She looked up as a man walked in. Like her, he had the same pale skin complexion. “Pardon ma’am,” said the other vampire as he nodded in respect. “The blood well is here. At your word, I'll send it up at your most convenient of pleasure.”

Petra tapped one long finger on her desk. “Do so,” she said. A sigh of longing escaped her lips as she stared to the darkening sky. It was curious. She loved the beauty of the sun and hated the bleakness of night. Yet, what she loved most would be her fastest killer. “Have you sent off the letter Ditric?”

“The day you ordered it,” Ditric said. “I surmise its reached its destination by now. I took the liberty of having it postmarked with the fastest courier available.”

Petra nodded. “That’ll be all. Send up the well. I parched.”

Ditric bowed as he shut the door behind him.

Ditric had been with Petra for as long as she could remember. Back when she was fleeing from the Revolutionary Army during the war between the United States and Britain, she had come across Ditric. Still relatively new to the world, she gave him a purpose instead of allowing him to lose his mind to the dangerous taint of a feral newborn. Having the advantage of being taught, unlike her, a strong master and servant role was established. Wherever she went, Ditric followed closely behind. Her protector, servant, and attendant.

There were times where she had to restrain the inert male need to lead, but the moments were quickly fixed and here they were today. The years had hardened him as it did her. Like a lion, Ditric was sombre and quiet. However, when another trespassed on Petra’s domain, fangs and claws came at the ready, prepared to rend the flesh from the offenders bones.

The oak doors creaked open as Ditric appeared once again with a woman following from behind. Petra recognized the woman. Cassandra. A most faithful servant with a most delicious tasting elixir coursing through her frame.

“Ditric,” she said. The hunger, the smell drawing her into a frenzy controlled only through the experience of time. “Leave us.”

“Yes ma’am.”

The door shut behind her as Cassandra kept walking forward. She was brave, this woman. Under most circumstances, Petra fed from those who could disappear — or her closets of human servants. Cassandra on the other hand was a very special one. Her taste was irreplaceable, her company was pleasant.

“I’ve come as requested,” said the servant as she stood before the ravenous beast.

Petra wasted no time as she pushed Cassandra over and her forced her on her table. The scent was so strong that she could feel her canines sharpen from the mere contact. Her eyes traced the woman’s neck as blood pulsed through her quickening artery.

“I’ll make this as painless as possible.”

“You may be as rough or as gentle as you’d like,” Cassandra said, her lips pulled back into a taut smile. “It all feels the same to me.”

Petra chuckled as she inhaled the woman’s scent. An irresistible, unnameable scent filled her mind and sent her senses awry. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s waist. “Out of all my things, you’re the most welcome.”

Tightening her grip, her fangs sunk deep into the woman’s neck as warm liquid slowly rushed down her throat. She felt the servant tighten underneath her than slowly relaxed. Even within such a terrible act, the passion was intense.

Soon enough, her mind was filled with ecstatic pleasure. The world forgotten for a time.

---

It had taken some time to arrive at the designated location. Petra was fairly surprised when she was invited to sit within Seraphine, the head of the coven she currently resided within. What surprised even more so was the fact that she would sit as the second. As far as honors go in her world, only becoming head of the coven would put her current position to shame.

As she made her way through the cool council hallways, she remembered the slightly agitated look on Ditric’s face when she told him to remain outside. Unlike her manor, this was not her domain. To invite unneeded tension into this already fragile neutrality would be a huge disservice to her kind.

Finally coming before the vampire council’s waiting room, she nodded to a sentinel standing outside as he opened the door for her. She strode in with the confidence of a leader but with the respect of a follower. A fine line had to be traversed here.

Her black dress and matching style jacket clung to her body as she bowed to the occupant in the room. “Lady Seraphine, its an honor” she said with a gesture of respect. “And to you too Lucius. Am I the last of us to arrive?”

Demon - Ashtaroth

Ash moved from him, walking toward the opening in the room and turning to face him. She leaned against the window, the soft breeze that pushed against her ruffled her dress, but to be sensuality by her very nature and not flash your panties at least once a night would be pure travesty. She smirked at her leader, a quick lick of her lips before answering him. "At least a hundred years I've waited and I honestly thought you might taste more like sin but it's apparent you've been hanging out with the humans a bit too much. Sex and candy, anyone?" She laughed and turned her back to the room, not a care in the world.

Truth be told Ash could care less for the formality of the council room and rather felt put off and tied down as she sat beside Mephistos as deliberations were presented without end. There was very little reason, in her own mind, for speaking with other races if they were not serving the demons and their causes, her father having inbred in her the desire for destruction, mayhem and burning hot lust for the evil of the world. She stretched, her long arms lifting above her head as if preparing her for a dance that might leave the gods breathless.

Ash started to let him in on all that she'd discovered only to stop abruptly as Madeline moved into the room, the girl much more attuned to a fairy than a demon. Her cheerful disposition had Ash growling under her breath. "Tone it down just a little or I shall tie you up and lick the skin from your bones while I beg Mephistos to drown puppies and rape blonde cheerleaders to classical music." She laughed and moved toward him, leaning over to whisper in his ear.

"To see you squirm is much more adventurous than to delight you in the fact that the hunters have empower the last two descendant of James to began a journey that might prove prosperous for the church. My sources tell me that we might just be missing someone tonight." She moved back and let her nose almost touch his, her gaze locked on his. "Do tell me if you can figure out who is a pawn, lover."

Without a word she moved into fiery red smoke and disappeared from the room. Demetrius would be there soon and she hoped to catch him before the charades started. They had a few things to discuss and being most careful in present company, her disappearing act was quite necessary.

On the night of the Council of Shadows meeting, the sun began to set, shining right onto a wooden house which was right at the edge of the woods. The house was about two kilometers away from Greenwich, and the woods were not marked on any of the current maps.  In front of the house was a river, and a small yet stable footbridge over top of it which lead to another set of woods, which would take you to the next town if you knew which way to walk, otherwise you would just get lost. About a hundred years ago, the only living human who had known about this house was the owner, who was a hunter and he hadn’t exactly gained this house through lawful means. He had been hunting down a werewolf for months, and on the final day of the chase it led him to this place. The werewolf taken the owner of the place hostage and the hunter ended up killing them both out of greed, and kept the house for himself as well as all the valuables in it. Up until a month before his death, the hunter had shared this information with another hunter friend of his, who was none other than Demetrius.

Shortly after finding about the house, Demetrius decided that he needed to keep something like this for himself, in case he ever needed to hide for a while before disappearing. After a month of planning and deceiving the hunter that owned the house, he killed him in the woods on the other side of the river, and buried his body. The time did come where he would have to disappear, and after a few centuries of deception; he was finally realized for what he truly was and he was hunted down by all the hunters, since they didn’t want any of the information he had to get into the hands of others. After hiding out at the house for a while he managed to escape, and had no need for the house anymore yet he kept it in case he did in the future. The time he might need it in the future had finally arrived, Dagon, the former leader of the demons needed a place to hide out when he got here, and it’d be suicide to hide close to the cities, so Demetrius offered him this place.

Demetrius walked out of the house, since he had to go to the Council of Shadows meeting, and a task to complete before it. The sunlight hit his long white hair, making it glow a bit, and he made his way through the woods, not rushing at all, since he still had lots of time before the Council of Shadows meeting started, and a while after that, until Dagon arrived. After walking a fair amount of distance he got to Greenwich. As he walked through the place, seeing how all the people interacted and how much waste they produced from simply living. Demetrius was following Dagon because he thought that humankind was nothing but a strain on this Earth, since they turned everything around them into excrement. He had observed humankind long enough to know that this was how they operated, that they were a fluke in nature that had a need to customize their surroundings to themselves, seeing no need for themselves to evolve anymore. He personally didn’t care whether at the end which race ruled over it all, he just wanted humankind gone so that the world would advance, and so that it wouldn’t slowly die out, and then be rebuilt again, get trashed by humans, slowly die out, and so on and so forth. No, Demetrius was in on this to change the natural course of the world.

He made his way to a pub, to meet up with one of his many informants, who went by the name Matthew. The man was sitting at a table, absolutely drunk off his ass. Demetrius scowled at an example of typical human behaviour, drowning oneself in a substance that slowly killed parts of you and more importantly got in the way of others and their affairs. Demetrius tapped him on the shoulder, and spoke in a tone that let out the slightest hint of frustration, yet was calm and collected while at the same time serious. “Hello there, Matthew, I trust you have information for me like you assured me you would?”

Matthew, after sitting still for a few moments, slowly turned his head, confused. “Whaa..?”

“Let’s go for a walk, I don’t give a damn how drunk you are.” Demetrius scowled, and grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to walk outside. Once they were outside, he took him behind the pub. “Now, as I was saying. The information, do you have it or not?”

Taking a few moments to respond yet again, Matthew then appeared as though a great thought had come to him, as he spoke up. “Oh righhhhhht… Th-the information… The one that um…. What’s his name again…” The man looked up as though he was thinking, but Demetrius hardly doubted there was any thinking happening while he was in this state. “Oh yeaahhh… Ames! He s-said he’d give some information tonight, for uh… I forget the amount of money, but he said the information was worth it!”

Demetrius scowled and grimaced, realizing that Ames had actually been willing to two-time them. "Thank you Matthew, I'll go visit him." He said, in the calmest tone he could manage, albeit the fact he was quite pissed.

He made his was to Ames' house, and when he neared he winced in remembrance of how bad the place smelled. He pushed the door open and covered his nose, but breathing through his mouth was still an issue, since the taste of the air was disgusting as well. Demetrius noticed something off, it was how the air smelled worse than usual, like somebody had died here. "Ames wasn't the type to fight..." He mumbled to himself as he advanced. He sees where he was, pinned to the wall and brutally killed. Demetrius didn't need to sense his presence to know who did this, it was Mephistos, he'd kill anyone like this once they were no longer an asset. Demetrius recounted the events of the past days, and what Ames had known. Sighing in relief that Ames knew next to nothing, he quickly left the place, walking to the Council of Shadows meeting.

He arrived quite soon after he left, and saw Ash waiting for him. He approached her, giving her a slight half smile, attempting to keep moods up albeit what he just noticed.

Adrian looked at Abigail and nodded. "He'll be fine. Felix is fully capable of handling himself; the last I saw of him, we were in his room. There was a small disagreement, but nothing unusual... Although he's very professional, you know my brother is an avid romantic... I wouldn't be surprised if he lost track of time while out on a walk... I don't believe I'll ever understand him," He said, sighing and crossing his arms.

The two of them had always shared such a connection, naturally, as he had been the one to change her. For the life of him, she was the only one in the pack that he couldn't leave; of course, he had no reason to go and he would never abandon his brother, but he felt an irresistible need to keep watch over her. She was his responsibility, it seemed, no matter how able-bodied she was.

"Thankfully Felix is relatively new... I think I can handle it," He said confidently.

It was a full-out lie; there was one person he knew would never fall for it, but she would never make a scene of it.

Sera would not even need to hear him speak to know that something was amiss. There was no way she would simply fall for it, but the others likely would. As an imposing figure took his place in the room silently, Adrian rolled his eyes, raising his voice. "Nice of you to join us, Fenris... It's always relieving to see that you can make time for the rest of your kind," He said with more than a little bit of irritation. Why did Felix insist on inviting the wolf? He was rogue, even if he was part of his own pack, and for some reason Adrian's brother made an effort to include him at the meeting. Even more puzzling to the lycan was why Fenris would accept, but seem to care little for it. The Lycan shrugged and looked to their Alpha for a moment to see what he would have to say. He was entirely passive at this point, a hand on his chin as he mauled over how to handle the rest of the evening.

Several moments later, the last of their pack was to arrive... an absolute mess. Adrian groaned and placed a hand to his face; the girl seemed to have been wearing what was once formal attire. While Adrian himself was not dressed in the most appropriate apparel - merely wearing a black, open long-coat with a basic white shirt beneath and a pair of plain combat-style boots. He was far from looking classy, unlike his brother... In the pit of his stomach, Adrian felt something twist; where was he..? He decided to shake it away - Felix would be back, he was certain of it. What are the chances that anything happened, anyway? What could happen?

Mephistos raised an eyebrow, licking his lips as he kept staring down at the paper," My sinful taste is a lot more sublime and subtle than you are used to, my dear. You have spent too much time with Dagon, whose idea of subtlety reminds one of a charging bull..." No that wasn't very good, he thought, scowling. It had come to his head because he was reading an article over several Spaniards being killed by a rushing rushing bull in one of their festivals. The face that he made was one of disappointment in himself, having thought that he was capable of much more wit than that.

"I'll pass on the cheerleaders, though I thank you, love," He looked up finally, meticulously folding the newspaper and placing it on the nearby table," Too young, far too little lubrication," He stood, his face still scrunched up like he had smelled garbage, instantly changing when she came closer, causing that small smile to touch his lips as her scent filled his senses.

"I am disappointed in you, My dear Ash," He said with a smile, moving over to the door, closer to their newest arrival," You know I never squirm, even if uncomfortable. All I have to think of is... what was it? Drowning puppies and raping cheerleaders to Tchaikovsky and I will be fine. You know how fertile my imagination is when it comes to my hobbies," He tsked at her, eyes flickering around," I do believe we are short one of our number. Where is that cursed Demetrius?" He said, thinking aloud.

With the elders amongst the demons talking their usual "adult talk", Madeline giggled in a girly fashion and walked over to a divan, smoothly getting rid of her high heels before lying on the furniture. She liked listening on the ranting of the people. It thrilled her. Her heart was pumping heavy with curiosity and the thirst for something more. The Demon was not usually feeling this vivid. "Ah, so much drama. Let us fantasize about dancing in a burning sky and drinking the blood of virgins... Huhm... I would enjoy the scent of 'l'eau de vierge'."

She clapped her hands and licked her lips. It was some time since she had taken a bite. Her eyes wandered over to a table with finest meals and delights for every demonic being. Stretching herself and purring like a cat, Madeline slowly slithered from the divan and got into an upright stance. With quiet, almost ghostly steps, she approached the table and let her gaze be satiated by the mass of food in front of her.

"Even Kings and Queens cannot dine like this. What a delight", she purred, as she prepared a plate with the best pieces of them all. Walking over to Mephistos with the garnished plate, she leaned against his seat once more, the plate gently resting in the man's sight. "There is enough time to discuss about our very prosperous living, my dear. Shall we take a bite before this whole turns a little ugly?"

---

Fenris watched the group of werewolves with interest. They all live amongst the humans with such a secrecy that it reminded Fenris about the old saying; a wolf in sheep's clothing. More delightful, he enjoyed the fact that they all acted like humans. They were all concerned about political problems. Nature was not concerned about the weak. Even the strongest beasts cannot carry the dead weight of the predecessors.

It amused Greyback even more when the main concern was the missing of the dominant person of this council. Missing Felix. After hearing a lot of nonsense about waiting and what could have happened to him, Fenris rose from his seat. "Will we keep wondering why a man is not present at a political issue or do we fix it?", he growled, his eyes wandering around the people that were present.

"Many of us should be concerned about what is going to be discussed amongst the council." The man growled in the moment of addressing the turmoil some of the younger members were giving him. The word 'beast' was probably the sharpest echo. It felt ironic to the man. "If I remember correctly, this council was made to address the problems between the beings of the night and the humans. Since we received a lot of aggression from the Church, we should stop wondering where our most dominant wolf is."

Seraphine nodded at her last member, moving toward the door and looking over her shoulder at Lucius and Petra. "I'm going to call the council to order and began. Petra you will sit to the left of me at the triangular table and Lucius do make yourself comfortable, pet."

She left without another word, her long raven's hair dancing upon her shoulders and back as people began to pour through the large ornate doors that held the council meeting. The Museum curator an old friend of hers and someone she had moved to her side many years ago when he was simply a boy trying to step into his father's heritage of performing the tasks of maintaining history as his father had done before him and his father before him. They'd been using this very room for almost forty years, the hunters not yet having caught wind of it, but their time was coming, of that she was assured.

The witching hour had arrived and Seraphine stepped up to the table, her hands lifting into the air as she cleared her throat and a hush fell over the room. Several of her male attendants opened the doors of the waiting rooms and invited both the wolves and the demons to join them. "We will begin very shortly now, please do come and take your seats. The night grows long and I know that we have two nights of deliberations and discussions, so let us began tonight and tomorrow night we will finish up early and hold a small gathering for those of us who wish to mingle and visit to do just that."

She waited until Petra, the wolves and demons had taken their seats and their leaders were at the table to began her part as prefect of the council. The air about her stirred with mixed emotions and yet she held nothing but a sense of calm and ownership. They had survived for centuries without cooperation from one another and this would be no different if things were to digress into meaningless bickering and aggressive agitation. She would simple disband the council and ignore the fact that the demons or the wolves exists. Save for Felix she cared not for any of them anyway. Speaking of... she looked to the chair where her beloved should sit, her eyes narrowing a bit as she realized something wasn't entirely as it appeared.

"We will began as we always do... with introductions. I am Council Prefect. My name is Seraphine Iscariot and I am the first of my kind. I expect us to discuss both the idea of the hunters rising again and the inner species fighting between the demons and my people in the belly of Africa. Please, share your name and what you desire to discuss over this winter meeting." She sat down having taken her turn, the other members of the council still standing until they too spoke. The rest of the room sat in an eerie silence, something hanging heavy among the wolves but she simply couldn't place what it might be, though felt quite sure it related to their missing Alpha.

It was quite unlike Felix to miss a council meeting, especially one with so much importance to him personally. He was to be exhaled that night to the position of Alpha and yet his twin would sit in his place, a lie to be fed outright to anyone who looked upon them. Trust was paper thin on the council and if this got out it would be bad for the wolves and even more so for Adrian. Abigail simply nodded and followed Finnegan to the door, looking over her shoulder at Adrian and feeling worry stretch across her like a second skin. He would be able to pull this off and if not she would stand beside him no matter the repercussions.

Abigail turned to Fenris and shook her head, the old wolf so much more beast that human and yet she found that she could better understand his position at times. In the eyes of an animal everything was black and white and lacked the grey center that was pressed before someone with conscious thoughts and decision making burdens. "You understand not the burden that is placed on those of us that cannot live as you do. Your words would hold more weight if you could see the world in more than two colors like we are forced to do. Hold your tongue as your words do nothing but insight unrest."

She walked from the room, a bit worried that the Alpha would call her out for speaking to someone when she should've given the floor to "Felix" and yet Finnegan said nothing but moved to the table where Seraphine had called everyone to be accounted for. An extra chair was added for her because everyone understood the change in Alpha that they were currently in the middle of. After Sera spoke, Abby waited quietly for her turn, knowing that Adrian would have to speak as Felix before she would be called upon by the eyes of many as they bore upon her. She'd not asked for this position but knew that if Adrian was to stand alone she would be by his side no matter the cost.

Adrian stared daggers at Fenris, his voice a growl, "Watch your tongue, whe-" He started before being cut off by Finnegan with a raised hand. Adrian sighed in agitation and they pack moved for the council room, taking their seats as Seraphine began the opening. Adrian looked to Abigail as she sat in the extra chair given to their pack - on account of their current power shift. He gave her a slightly reassuring smile as they began to introduce themselves, starting with Finnegan. Adrian rose and cleared his throat, "I'm Felix Allistor - soon to be named Alpha of the head pack of the Werewolves; tonight, I feel we should address..." He froze... What had Felix wanted to talk about? He clenched his fist, relaxed, and squeezed again, rubbing his temples as though he'd forgotten.

"How embarrassing," He said, trying to buy his time as he shifted his weight from side-to-side, catching Finnegan's death glare from the corner of his eye. "Erm... We should address the disunity experienced between our three races in recent times and not only mobilize against the hunters again, but begin to decide territorial boundaries as our numbers multiply as well as what those boundaries entail." Finally, Adrian had managed to collect himself and organize an answer that Felix might have.

With a slight sigh of relief, he looked to Finnegan, who gave him a passive nod. Cool down... Felix is passionate, but not overworked, he reminded himself calmly, So just speak with feeling... The hardest part should be over. He then looked to Abigail to hear her introduction, a small, prideful smile on his face.

In Mephistos' eyes, the werewolves were always the most annoying. Vampires were annoying in their own right, uncontrollable addicts, but at least they had the dignity to know the kind of monsters that they7 were, and lacking in the so-called virtues that the lycans claimed to have. Lycans thought that, for some reason they were better than the monsters that they were due to their loyalty to one another, and their so-called honor. Rabid beasts the lot of them, Mephistos thought, scowling at the one they called Fenris. So much... ignorance in their race, and so arrogant. He wondered why their kind hadn't been neutered and slaughtered for psychological examination as to what went wrong.

"Felix? Funny," He stood, smiling," You don't sound like Felix. I am Mephistos, oldest of my kind, and representative of them in this council. Now, Felix, I would kindly ask you to tell your dog," He looked pointedly at Fenris," To keep his jaw from yapping when it offends his betters ears, or we will have to put him down, like all rabid dogs, but..." He shook his head, licking his lips," That would be generalizing your kind, now wouldn't it? So, I will instead warn you that the next time one of your kind says something so ignorant as to cause me a headache, I will, I promise you, flay them alive and leave them alive long enough to taste the chewy center of their intestines. And no, I am not bluffing," He scowled, shaking his head. Demons attack werewolves and it was an affront. Werewolves attacked demons and surely the demon was to blame. He never understood why his master wanted him to affiliate with these vile creatures when just feeling their scent of wet dog had his blood boiling. Even Dagon was an epitome of civilization when compared to them. Dagon, whose idea of subtlety was...

Not just now, he thought, rubbing his temples," Unlike you... things," He finished," My kind do not fear the church. In fact, the Church only knows about us because of our affiliation to you lot. Also unlike you, we tend not to breed like fucking rabbits in the spring, and so we have been keeping to our assigned borders and it has been your mangy bunch of mutts that had been trying to stretch the limits of our understanding as well as our mercy. You would do well to remember that, canine," He spat the last word out like an undercooked scallop.