JulienJaden — Roleplayer Guild

Collab with @Kingfisher

After her business with Godric had concluded, the evening broke away into a blurry whirlwind of drugs and booze. Nyxie descended from on-high, mingling with the other awestruck partygoers, and began chugging down vodka, snorting fairy dust, and stuffing herself full of rich food. 

Nyxvira was brushing some flecks of golden power off of her upper lip, a bottle of bacardi clenched tightly in one hand, when the lights dimmed, and a tall, lithe figure in a silvery grey suit slipped up onto the catwalk. 

“Greetings from the Nyctari family,” He began, his powerful voice carrying across the room, as the boisterous roaring of the partygoers ceased almost instantly “and our most humble thanks to our gracious host.” 

One would have expected rowdy cheering to follow, but the Nyctari family’s presence demanded grace and presentability, so the mention of Nyxvira was instead met with a round of well-comprised applause, even if those clapping had been doing shots and fondling prostitutes mere seconds ago. 

“I shall not keep you from your festivities much longer,” the man’s voice was like silk “Nor do I have any great announcement to make. I merely wished to introduce Lord Concetto’s addition to the revelry…” 

A playful grin teased at the speaker’s lips, as a look of flirtaious mischief crossed his features. 

The men and women who appeared next, striding down the Catwalk behind him were truly something to behold. Nyxie’s girls had been beautiful, but the statuesque figures that the Nyctari family brought to the table looked like they could put Helen of Troy to shame. 

Nyxie scowled into her bottle. Concetto didn’t fool her; he was trying to show her up. She could feel hot anger bubbling at the back of her throat. 

 I need another drink. 

She passed the next few hours with copious amounts of liquor, which lost all taste after so many ounces of dust. Faeries were pretty much inherently party animals, so Nyxvira could hold her alcohol better than almost any human. 

Nyx wasn’t sure what hour it was when she got the phone call from Francis Cain. 

 “Hello Luvie…”  She slurred, as she answer on her Samsung Galaxy.

"Good evening, Lady Bloodbloom."

Cain furrowed his brows at the other end of the line. To speak to Nyxvira directly was strange in and of itself. Usually, Grezbill would pick up - it seemed that most all business calls were first directed to his phone before being passed to hers - and give him several minutes of bullshit about how terribly busy his mistress was and loudly wondering if a simple private eye could be deemed important enough to take up her time, even when Cain knew for a fact that Bloodbloom was eagerly awaiting his call. He was familiar enough with the Faerie to know that she was haughty but it annoyed him to no end that her Goblin servant with nothing to back up his pride considered himself above the pyromancer too.

That made it all the more peculiar that the queenpin herself would pick up, and in a state of inebriation no less. He could hear the pounding of bass and noise of many people in the background, contrasting the quiet of his office he sat in, the police network wide open to his whims on the computer screen in front of him. He had spent most of the day after his trip to meet the priest dealing with odds and ends around the city and he'd have to return to his apartment soon-ish if he wanted to make good on his offer to Valorie. But he'd have to deal with this phone call first.

"I talked to the priest you directed me to. According to him, the Slayer's two latest victims worked for the SSPD and were investigating the Nyctari shortly before their death, though he couldn't say whom, for what reason or if that was in any way relevant to the Slayer case."

"Then I do infact have some good news for you, sweetiepie!" Nyxie giggled, struggling to be heard over the guttural thumping of the basy dance music. "It just so happens that the leader of the Nyctari parade of stupid cunts is currently in attendance at my most splendid-ist of party-fun-times, if you fancy popping down and saying 'hiiiiiii' to the bloodsucking bastard." 

Her response semi-blindsided Cain: On one hand, he had been "Schroedinger's Dick", both prepared for her to tell him that his job was done AND for her to tell him to follow up on this lead. On the other, he hadn't expected her to present such an opportunity right away. The Nyctari, and their leader most of all, didn't exactly treat regular humans with care, and when it came to mages, they usually presented them with two options: Join or die - which, incidentally, had been the first and only conversation he ever had with Concetto Nyctari. If it wasn't for his promise to remain neutral and his bluff that the other gangs, the Bloodbloom Syndicate in particular, were guaranteeing his life as long as he followed their agreement, Cain would have either been dead - probably along with Concetto and a couple other vampires - or undead. And neither option was particularly appealing.

Francis tried to tell himself that he was pondering her offer but one look at the police's digital file on the Somabra Slayer revealed that they offered no information that the newspapers hadn't already shared with the general population, with one exception: The newspapers had mentioned that Calhoun had a daughter who, officially, was in protective custody. The police file, however, spoke of her as 'missing'.
No surprises there.
No matter how he looked at it, an opportunity to speak with the head of the Nyctari and not only finding out what Calhoun and Blackwood were investigating but perhaps also what the vampires knew about the Slayer could not be passed up, even if that meant he would be late for his 'date' with Valorie.

"Then I will most graciously accept your invitation, Milady", he spoke in his usual calm bariton. "If you'd be so kind as to give me the address and a 'password' to get past the guards?"

'Splendid-ist' indeed, Cain thought, only half-mocking, as he descended the few steps into the illustrious crowd of partygoers the Faerie had assembled. He had to leave his gun behind and took a detour to unlock the apartment as well as leave a message for the necromancer in case she was on time - if she showed up at all - but he didn't feel any less safe or unsafe for it. Sure, he was surrounded by whores and glamour, by vampires and thugs, by the richest and most powerful people in the city who would dare to show their face in the vicinity of Nyxvira Bloodbloom, which meant virtually all of them, but that didn't phase him. 

His eyes only briefly lingered on a pair of beautiful, exposed breasts here and a public display of fellatio there, scanning the depraved and beautiful masses for one particular face, the cigarette between his lips glowing and turning to ash slowly but surely, the thin smoke joining the haze of the room. In one of the boxes - or was it a gallery? A loge? Surely, he wasn't the only person here who didn't know what to call it - he finally found that face, the eyes he had been looking for. Not only that but he was sure that he his gaze had been met. As he walked towards the stairs, Cain could feel that he was being observed, like a gerbal who had roused the attention of a falcon.

The Nyctari guard at the bottom of the stairs patted him down but didn't really ask any questions, didn't even want to know what reason he'd have to disturb his boss - as always, the bloodsuckers seemed to be one step ahead of him. Cain wouldn't have been surprised if one of them had listened to his exchange with Nyxvira; they certainly seemed to be expecting him.
At the top of the stairs, he found his suspicions confirmed: Concetto Nyctari, a man with a youthful face but eyes that spoke of knowledge and intellect only elves could rival and an unscrupulousness that Cain only knew from those beings who fed on humans, sat on a magnificent leather couch, two stunningly beautiful Nyctari women to his left and right, a slightly-less beautiful woman lying lifeless on a coffee table in front of them, blood streaming from several wounds and dripping from the three vampires' bared teeth.

Some might have thought that they came at an inconvenient time but the detective was certain it was no mistake that the guard had let him pass when he did. Concetto had met his eyes as soon as the steps allowed it and this whole display was meant to shake him, scare him, set the tone for the conversation, make it unmistakeably clear who was superior and who was nothing more than prey.
But all it did was rouse Cain's disgust. Not that he let it show.

On the outside, his face and body language was the epitome of neutral. Respectfully, he inclined his head.
"Concetto Nyctari - it has been a while. I'm honored you would grant me this audience."

He desired nothing more than to burn these leeches to a crisp.

One might have suspected the Lord of all Western Vampires to be a creature of grace and beauty, but whilst Concetto Nyctari appeared young, he was by no means handsome. His face was squat and round, with a pointed chin and a flat nose. His ears were too large, his eyes too small, and his coy grin too hooked and crooked. His skin was a mottled greyish black, like a corpse that was just starting to rot. His teeth were something else entirely; sharp, needle-like fangs that sat twisted and jagged in the pit of his mouth. 

"I don't remember seeing your name on the guest list...detective," Concetto tittered, a sly smirk oozing across his face "This little slice of paradise is bloodsuckers only...so a former SSPD operative is always welcome here, ya little parasite." 

Concetto ran his long, dirt grey tongue over his lips, hissing like a serpent, whilst ruffling the hair of one of the women who sat next to him. 

He pulled a cigar out of his coat pocket, before snapping the fingers on his free hand. A dark, purple flame erupted from his slender thumb, which he used to light the cigar. He took a long drag, a fat trail of smoke billowing out into the air, before dowsing the cigar on the hand of the girl to his left, grinding its searing edge into her pale flesh. She didn't so much as flinch. 

 "But tell me; what can old Concetto do for you, detective?"  The vampire's voice was wet and and rattling, like he had something permanently lodged at the back of his throat, or a mouthful of water. 

The display of violence towards his... concubine? Slave? Subordinate? Partner? Whatever it was, it made Francis wonder if he couldn't light his own thumb and lodge it in the Nyctari's eye socket before he could react.
But on the surface, Cain was as still as water, despite the deafening bass.

"I picked up some very vague information from an unreliable source and I was hoping that the Nyctari could help me put that into perspective."

Without a gesture or verbal offer from the three, the private detective sat down in a leather chair across from the trio, his eyes coolly regarding the corpse between them. Maybe he was a parasite of the city, just like everybody else, but at least he didn't kill without reason.
Then again, that didn't mean the reason was always good. And he was painfully aware of how the Nyctari did business: If Concetto plain didn't want to help him, the only way to get information was the risky one, which was probably what those undercover operatives had been trying; and if Concetto agreed to be forthcoming, it would almost certainly come at a high price.
Either way, playing with most of his cards open was the only way to get anywhere in this situation.

"Joanna Calhoun and Hugh Blackwood, the Somabra Slayer's latest victims, appear to have been working for the SSPD; it seems that they were investigating the Nyctari shortly before their death. Since I am conducting my own investigation of this case, I would appreciate any assistance the Nyctari could lend me."

Concetto's face seemed to suddenly lose its playful edge. 

  "Leave us."    He muttered dryly, and his subordinates obeyed. In a flutter of silk and the clanking of expensive shoes, the other vampires quickly scampered from the room, leaving only Cain and Concetto, with the lifeless corpse sprawled out between them. 

"I'm playing a dangerous game by having this conversation with you, Detective,"    he hissed  "but while I'm not known to be the trusting sort, you're a lot less likely to stab me in the back then my usual agents. Which is why I need your help with a...personal matter."  

Concetto took a moment to compose himself, clearly not having been in a situation of this nature for quite some time. 

 "I'll give you my files on the brute and the whore, but I need something from you in return. I need you to locate and retrieve a girl. Goes by the name of Korah  . Last known whereabouts was the Pale Veil  restaurant in Dawn Peak Heights."  

The vampire reached into his coat pocket and fished out a polariod photo, which he placed in the table before Cain. 

The girl in the photograph was a lean, skinny young woman, with milky white skin and shortly-cut hair, dyed dark purple. She had dullish grey eyes, and wore a beanie hat and a sleeveless white vest. 

 "No questions asked. At all."   Concetto snapped  "Do we have a deal, detective?"  

A girl... Another girl... My life revolves around nothing but girls these days...

Cain's eyes examined the young woman's face, her skin, her figure, her vestments. Her skin was so light she could very well have been a vampire but there was no way to be sure. Who was she to Nyctari? A whore, a former lover, an agent?
He hoped that she was, that the person on the photo wore a mask of innocence, that Concetto wasn't asking him to lead a lamb to the slaughter, but who was he kidding? Cain had sold his soul a long time ago; whoever she was, she would just be another face to haunt him in his dreams.

But that didn't mean he wouldn't bargain for what little integrity he had left. And even if there was none, 'no questions asked' was a dangerous condition. It could very well mean that she was under the protection of another crime family; if she was, pursuing her could prove very dangerous to Cain, if anybody found out.
He looked at the vampire again, his gaze as cold as the man's dead skin, and leaned forward.

"Not quite."

Whoever this woman was, whatever the reason he wanted her, Concetto Nyctari was, for once, in a position where he couldn't dictate the conditions of the agreement.

"I want everything the Nyctari know about the Slayer and victims - original files and data with no copies or backups, anything in your clan's possession that isn't ingrained in your people's brains, sealed and guaranteed with blood."

If the Nyctari had more accurate information to offer than the SSPD, and that was highly probable, taking all this information and having them magically guarantee that no copies existed made it a very valuable commodity, if Cain chose to sell it. Concetto had to know that, so the question was how interested he was in the Slayer. Or maybe... Maybe it was more of a question of how important this woman was to him.

"In return", the detective took the photo between two of his fingers and showed the face to the crime lord, "you will have her, discreet as always and no questions asked."

As macabre as it was, Cain offered his hand to the vampire, his arm hovering over the girl's corpse. The smoke from his cigarette had a strange bite to it when some of it wafted into his eyes, stinging and itching. Or maybe he wasn't so stonecold yet that he could shake hands over a dead woman's body without feeling his conscience. 

Concetto paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing into slits. 

 "Very well then."   

 He extended one hand to Cain. 

 "We have ourselves a deal."
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