Victoria looked at Illyad a moment longer than necessary, vaguely wondering how many years his “entire life” consisted of. He had mentioned having lived a long time before, but, from the looks of him, he was not too much older than her or Alex. Well, by Alex’s appearance, at least.
Good, Victoria thought at Alex’s explanation. He did not intend to kill them. As much as she detested the two in question, that was not a fate she wished on them. She frowned into her cup as Alex finished. Luc had definitely had that kind of aura about him.
“Do you have a way to capture them?”


“What?” Nyaira hissed, her eyes narrowing at Luc and a scowl pulling at her lips. They stood in an alleyway in the college town, the smell of cooking fish coming from a Chinese restaurant on one side. “I have things I need to take care of before tomorrow. I can’t be gallivanting about town trying to find--” The snarl Luc gave her made her voice fall still, her own expression brooding.
“You ’eard me, Nya.” Luc’s steely gaze bore into Nyaira. “Find zee girl. I ’ave already made arrangements to compensate for your absence.” He took a breath, and his face softened. He stepped toward Nyaira and gently brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Zee business I ’ave can’t be done by anyone else, and you are zee only one I trust with something as important as zis, mon chéri. It is more important zan you know.”
“Fine,” she said with animated exasperation. “But you owe me, mon cœur.” Nyaira moved his hand aside and leaned against him.
They shared a quick kiss before Luc pulled away and quickly disappeared onto the main road.
With an irritated sigh, Nyaira pulled out the pocket-watch-turned-compass and opened it. The needle swiveled a few times, even backtracking on itself. A malicious smile spread over her face as it settled on a direction, the needle quivering as if in excitement.
As Jevan had promised, it had locked onto the human.
Making a quick note of the direction it pointed, she replaced it in her pocket and started on her way, checking the compass every few minutes to make sure she was still on the right path.

Alex nodded. "I have a few different plans, because they always seem to be a couple of steps ahead." He told her, not giving any details. He trusted both Illyad and Victoria, but he knew that Nyaira and Luc had ways of extracting information from people, and he didn't want to risk it.

Illyad put his cup down and stood, looking between the two of them. "Tell me the truth, Victoria. Do you trust either of us?" He asked, making a pointed look at Alex before turning to face her.

“That’s good,” Victoria said, not pressing Alex for further information. “Having multiple plans, I mean.”
Her attention snapped to Illyad as he stood. She took a deep breath and held it at his abrupt question. Abrupt, but not unwarranted.
Did she trust them? She glanced between the two, shifting her weight uneasily, then her gaze settled on Alex. She had known Illyad for little more than an hour or so, but Alex... she had known him for years. He was her best--albeit only--friend. In all that time, he had never done anything to deserve distrust. Could she really blame him for not telling her he was a vampire, knowing how she reacted to just seeing his kind?
She ignored the unnerving twinge of knowing what he was. But, if she was completely honest with herself, “what he was” was still the same Alex she knew, just with more to him than she had ever realized. The emotion and sincerity she had seen in his eyes was enough to tell her that on their own.
Which brought her back to the question at hand: did she at least trust Alex?
“Yes,” she said after a long few seconds, answering the question more for herself than Illyad, her eyes still on Alex and her voice soft but earnest.

Illyad turned to face Victoria and smiled. "Good, hold onto that." He swept out of the room, not explaining his actions, nor continuing the discussion, or explaining why Victoria would need to hold onto her trust of Alex.

Meanwhile Alex was breathing a sigh of relief. She trusted him still. He had been worried she would never truly trust him again. He didn't realise how worried he was until he got the answer he had been waiting for. "For what it's worth, I wanted to tell you. I've been wanting to tell you for so long, it's kind of a relief that you know the truth now." He scratched the back of his head and smiled.

Victoria looked at Illyad curiously at his statement. “What? Why? What’re you..” She took a couple steps and turned slightly to watch him go. “Never mind, then.” She sighed, and turned back toward Alex. “What’s with him?” She gestured after Illyad with her thumb.
She nodded slightly at Alex’s words, more to show she had heard than anything else, and looked to her cup, swishing the remaining tea inside around. “Who knows how things would’ve gone if you had told me before now, though.”
The atmosphere in the room felt slightly different. Lighter, as if even the kitchen had been holding its breath in anticipation to hear her answer.
She took a long, slow gulp of her tea, finishing it off, and went to put it in the sink.

Alex shrugged. "He likes to appear cryptic sometimes, even when he has no idea what he's talking about." He chuckled, scouring the cupboard for biscuits.

"Alex, I know what you're doing. Keep off of my cookies!" Illyad yelled from the living room.

"DO you really think I'll pay any attention to that?" Alex called through, laughing. He turned to face Victoria when he had found the cookies, and found her somewhat closer, by the sink. "I know. But I also knew the risks of you finding out. I was a coward. I'm sorry."

Victoria sniggered at Alex and Illyad’s exchange. The normality of it after everything else the day had thrown at her almost made her want to laugh. Or cry. She was not entirely sure which.
She turned and leaned against the sink, watching Alex search the cabinets for a couple moments, before looking around the kitchen. Her gaze paused on the door into the living room, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever Illyad had gone off to do. If anything related to their conversation.
“Note to self:” she began, “get Alex cookies for Christmas.”
Victoria shrugged and looked to the floor as his comment, her voice growing quieter once more with the topic. “It was a lose-lose situation. I’m sure I didn’t make it any better, either. Thanks, though.” She glanced to him. “For the apology.”

Alex held the packet out, toward Victoria. "Would you like one?" He asked, smiling at her. He wasn't sure how to move the conversation forward, so he decided to do what he did best when it came to Victoria. Avoid discussing the awkward topics. He'd been avoiding telling her certain things for almost as long as he'd known her, it wasn't likely to stop any time soon.

Meanwhile, Illyad was sat in his chair in the living room, or, more appropriately, was hovering just above it. His eyes were closed and he was breathing steadily. He was focused on his brother. He knew he had a hand in this, and he had to find out just how much he was doing. He refused to believe that Jevan had no hand in the discovery of Victoria.

Victoria instinctively flinched back when Alex held the package of cookies out to her. She rubbed the back of her neck and gave him a small apologetic smile. “Sure. Thanks.” She reached into the package and took a couple cookies, more than glad for the subject change, even if it was to the topic of cookies. She bit into one of the sugary confectioneries, and glanced to the doorway again. Illyad had fallen rather silent.


Jevan sat at his desk filling out paperwork. Such mundane chores, he thought bitterly. But such is the bane of maintaining a public appearance. There were so many other things he longed to be doing, but he still had a role to maintain and play with the wretched humans.
The fire burning in his office fireplace crackled weakly behind him, and a slight chill entered the room. He glanced to it, the once mighty blaze now dwindling into glowing embers with a couple desperate tongues of flames begging feebly for food.
With a sigh, Jevan put his pen down, stood, and went to place another log on the fire from the small pile stored nearby. He picked up one of the logs, and froze.
A tingling sensation ran down his spine as if someone watched him, only more electric. More magic. A snarl twisted his face. Someone was trying to delve into his business. And there was only one person he knew who could do that.
“Illyad,” he spat. He viciously threw the log onto the fire, making surprised sparks fly into the air and dance up the flue. “I should’ve known.”
With the fire’s hunger temporarily sated, he sat in front of the fireplace, his legs crossed. He closed his eyes, bent his head, placed his hands together horizontally in front of him, and concentrated, focusing on finding Illyad’s signature and connecting with it.
“Oh little brother,” he called sardonically. “Come to play with the big boys, have you?"

A small smile played at the corner's of Illyad's mouth, a rarity to say the least.

He quickly deflected his brothers advances, and instead, decided to create a telepathic connection. His consciousness arrived, sat at a table in a room which looked somewhat similar to the inside of the Eiffel Tower. The rest of the space was empty, just a table and two chairs. One for Illyad, and one for his brother.

There was a teapot on the table, with two cups. He picked it up and poured himself a cup of tea, smiling to himself as he did so.

"Brother dear, you're not going to keep me waiting are you?" He asked.

“When,” Jevan’s own consciousness shimmered into existence in the room Illyad had constructed within the realm between conscious and subconscious, his arms crossed over his chest and a sly expression on his tan face, “have I ever kept you waiting, Illyad?”
Jevan glanced to the pot of tea and spare cup that sat on the table before his brother. His nose rose up at it. “I still don’t understand your affinity for that stuff,” he said languidly. “It has no kick.” He stepped leisurely toward the table as a tray with a bar bottle filled with his favorite brand of brandy and a single glass fizzled into existence--or at least as close to existence as you got in this in-between place.
He stopped at the table, paying the rest of the surroundings little regard as he poured himself a glass of his drink of choice. With brandy in hand, he pulled out the secondary chair. He sat and placed his feet on the table, crossing them at the ankles. He took a long, slow drink of the contents in his glass.
“Now that’s a drink.” He looked to Illyad with an exaggerated sense of interest. “It’s been a while. You look thinner than I remember.” He took another swig of his brandy, almost draining the cup. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, little brother?” he finished derisively.

Illyad chuckled. "You simply do not have my refined tastes, dear brother." He said, sipping his tea as he waited for Jevan to take his seat at the table. He glanced at Jevan's feet as he placed them on the table, but thought better than to comment.

He took another sip of his tea and examined Jevan over the top of his cup. "I am still perfectly healthy, though I appreciate the concern." He put his cup down on the table before continuing. "I would like to know why you are doing business with Luc." He explained. "I always thought it wasn't your style to familiarise yourself with anyone, especially the likes of vampires."

Jevan’s lips twitched in a smirk at Illyad’s contemplative glance at him putting his feat on the table. Without removing his feet, he poured two fingers' width more of brandy into his squat glass.
“Concern?” He leaned back in his chair. “Merely an observation.” He swished the dark brown liquid around, but did not drink it.
At his brother’s motive for his “visit,” Jevan tapped a finger against his chin in mock contemplation. “Luc. Luc,” he drew out the name the second time, a sly gleam in his dark blue eyes. “Can’t say the name rings a bell. He a friend of yours? Owe him money or something?”

Illyad almost laughed, almost. "You're hiding something, brother mine. I know you far too well for you to lie to me and get away with it. Myself and Luc have a history almost as long as ours. I'm just curious. What could possibly motivate you to want to help him?" His eyes widened very slightly, before he composed himself again. "Unless, of course, he has promised you something you want."

“Me? Hiding something?” Mock offence saturated Jevan’s voice and pulled at his lips. “How could you even insinuate such a thing?”
He let out a long sonorous laugh when Illyad finished speaking. “Hypothetically?” he asked through his dark mirth. “Even if I am helping him, I’m not stupid enough to trust the word of a vampire. They’re filled with false promises as strong as their bloodlust. But I suppose if it’s a bone you want me to throw you...” He downed the contents of his glass, removed his feet from the table, and placed the emptied cup on the tray. A wicked grin spread over his face and glittered in his eyes as he stood. He placed his hands on the table and leaned toward Illyad. “My motives go far higher on the food chain than petty vampires, higher than it has gone since centuries before our time.” He leaned closer, the stench of alcohol on his breath as he continued in just above a menacing whisper. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into this time, little brother. This is only the beginning.”
With a smirk on his face, he pushed from the table. “Well, this was a nice chat. We’ll have to do it again sometime.” He turned his back on Illyad and started walking toward the opposite end of the room. He gave a quick wave without looking to his brother, then severed the link Illyad had created between them.

Illyad sighed, and opened his eyes back in his living room. He stood, walked calmly over to a dresser, yet another piece of odd furniture in the room, and gave it a swift kick, before turning back and breathing calmly. He wasn't sure what his brother was up to, but he always seemed to be 3 steps ahead of everything, and he never gave any information, not accidentally, and certainly not purposefully.

Alex heard the thud of Illyad's foot hitting the dresser and looked confused for a moment. He had never known Illyad show much in terms of emotion, and even when he did, frustration and anger weren't things he'd ever seen come from him. Something big must have happened...

It had been a while since any sound had come from the living room, so, when a loud thud came from the other room, it startled Victoria. She glanced up toward the doorway, then to Alex, before she strode across the kitchen to see what had happened.
“Illyad?” she called, placing a hand on the doorframe. She looked around the living room until her gaze fell to the warlock. He looked as calm and collected as ever. “Is everything okay?” she asked slowly.


Nyaira stood on the sidewalk, the compass in hand. She glanced up to the tall apartment complex in front of her, the needle of her enchanted compass pointing directly to it.
At long last, she had found where the girl was hiding. Nyaira closed the compass, the metal of it as cool as her skin. Unsure what to expect there, she sauntered across the street, her pace casual despite the ever cautious glances she cast about as she neared the complex. Her lips quirked up; somewhere inside there, she would find the prize she sought. As much as she hated not being back around the college to organize her part of the attack, she had to admit, the thrill of the hunt almost made it worthwhile.
Inside the building, she pulled out the watch-turned-compass and followed it through the halls, growing ever nearer to her reward with each confident step she took.

Illyad breathed once more. "Fine, fine. Everything's fine. Thank you for your concern." He was still obviously rattled, but he refused to pass on his worries to someone this new to the war.

Suddenly, Illyad shivered. "Oh no. Everything may not be fine. There's a supernatural in the building, other than Alex." He turned to the door. "I knew he was helping them." He muttered. "Alex! You might want to get in here. We're going to have company!" He called.

Alex hurtled through to the living room. "Victoria, find somewhere to hide." He told her.

“Okay,” Victoria said slowly. Whatever had happened, part of her was quite content with not knowing. She looked to the floor and made to turn back into the kitchen, when Illyad spoke again. Her attention snapped back to him.
“What?” she breathed. “Who?” She startled back when Alex ran into the living room, making her heart pound in her chest.
Body tense and breath held, Victoria nodded at him, then hurried down the short hall to try and find a good spot to hide. After all, she was of little use against the supernaturals, and would likely only get in Alex and Illyad’s way.


After climbing a flight of stairs, Niayra stood in a long hall, the scent of humans saturating the area and overpowering almost everything else. She held the compass open in her hand, and gave each door a distrustful glance as she went. Though she had felt a mild resistance earlier, she had still managed to enter the area.
Despite the thought that she could very well be walking into a trap with the few defenses she encountered to ward her off, her posture held a sense of bored ease as she sauntered in the direction the compass pointed. Finally, as she nearly passed one of the apartment doors, the needle swiveled to point to it. The faint smell of incense wafted to her from between the cracks in the door, alongside another familiar smell. Though it had been a while, the scent of that warlock Alex associated with was unmistakable.
Ready to force the door open by any means necessary should it be locked, and with the reminder to herself she would need to watch out for any magical traps, Nyaira closed the lid to the compass, put it in a tight pocket, and entered the apartment.

Illyad growled. "My meddlesome brother. How could I have been so stupid? Our magic cancels each other out." He sighed. "Be prepared, but sit down, and act relaxed." He told Alex, taking a seat in his own chair. "I know who it is, and what they're looking for."

He turned to look as the door opened, Alex had just sat down and taken a relaxed posture on the chair opposite Illyad.

"Nyaira, dear, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Illyad asked, smiling. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Biscuits? A wooden stake?" He asked, chuckling.