The evening parted like a reluctant sheet from the body of some young beauty on a cold night. The black overcast sky throwing shadows over every building that was not touched by the light of the few torches lit to try and fend of the darkness that seemed to cling to every corner of Westend.

Here, where only deathly silents normally range, now the sound of galloping hooves echoed through the street. Each pounding step seeming to bring with it the call of some danger that made those not inside rush for a place to hide. The form that seemed to break free from the shadows, seemed itself a part of them, streaking passed all who hid, and was gone before any could ever identify what it had been. Terrified eyes following in its wake, trying to see what it had been and hands moved to throats as if terrified they had been slit or worse in the passing of this black demon from hell.

When asked later what they saw those in the streets would swear a shadow from the very street itself had come to life.

999 Blood Street wasn't long coming. The living shadow seemed to slow and as if stepping from a black mist the horse appeared, at least it looked like a horse. Black as night its coat seeming to glow and yet absorb light at the same time, its flanks reflecting blue and purple under some light and never ending black under others. The beast stopped throwing its massive head, it was a horse, with flowing mane the whipped in the cold Rhy-Din wind, but the tailbone ran the full length of the tail which curled and uncurled like an irritated cats. It's eyes glowed blood red as it threw it's head, it's massive hooves echoing loudly on the cobblestone street. Its jaws parted in what should have been a loud whinny, instead a roar that only vaguely resembled a whinny escaped its maw of sharpened teeth and as it chew the bit, fangs could very easily be seen.

http://www.geocities.com/clare_hr/VampireHorse.JPG
(image attributed to http://gota-cacel.deviantart.com/art/Horse-Vampire-raito-68267881)

Its cloaked rider slipped from the pure black leather saddle, the blood red saddle pad, the only color seen on the horse, the bridle matched the saddle with small chains running from the cheek strap below the jaw, crossing there and back up to the bit, over the nose, crossing again and meeting just in front of the ears, making a chain 'X' on the face. The rider stepped away heading for the blood shop on the street, leaving the demon horse where it stood as the cloaked form stopped just outside the door.

The mists seemed to stir and move around the form obscuring the form from view. When the mists cleared all that remained was the beast that still stood in the street.

As the fogs receded she crouched there, her feet firmly on the bar, her fingers of her left hand firmly gripping the bar edge,, her right arm resting on her up turned right knee, her fingers relaxed in front of her. If Grace was beauty, this woman was perfection, her glowing blue eyes staring down the vampire before her. Slowly Selene stood, her black floor length leather coat unfurling with her to drape around her ankles.

"Good morning brother," her voice stated with an accent that seemed so hard to place if one did not know where she was from, "its been a long time," she stated matter of factly before stepping down off the bar as if it were mere inches, not feet, off the floor. As soon as her feet touched the red carpet below her she began walking towards the stunned Marcus. "This is quite the place, part bar, part house, and reeking for alcohol like a whore reeks of men," she let her glowing eyes take in the whole room as she circled him, her gaze returning to him as she came around him once more.

"But then again, you always did have a flair for the mortal didn't you? That's why you enjoy your bloodwine so much," she crossed her arms over her chest as she came to stand in front of him once more.

Selene watched Marcus as he plotted and thought over what he had to do, "If you bring him here, you invite trouble," she pointed out with a lowering of her brow.

"Trouble has already found me," he snapped at her as he started to pace, his eyes on the horse outside, "I have no choice but to welcome him with open arms and hope that by keeping him close I keep him from being able to strike."

Selene laughed a bitter sounding noise that rumbled from a throat too delicate for such a noise, "We're drinkers of the night Marcus, we thrive on striking at close range," she pointed out with a slight purr.

"Yes," Marcus muttered his eyes narrowing, "yes we do," he turned and left the room quickly heading back into the house.

Selene watched Marcus' retreat and moved to follow, curious now.

"Rafe!" Marcus stormed through the house looking for the were-servant, "Rafe where the hell are you?" He snarled, flashing fangs in anger.

"Here," the voice spoke as the massive body guard stepped from a back room, his yellowed eyes immediately moving the the blue eyed woman in the room.

"Get the carriage ready, a ship is coming into port in two days, I want the best bloodwine inside, only the purest, you know the kind, from the vault downstairs, see to it the windows are covered and the carriage house is also prepared, not a speck of sunlight is to get through. Do you understand?"

"Of course," Rafe nodded and bowed just slightly with his answer.

"Go," Marcus answered waving away the guard.

"Keeping pets now are we Marcus?" Selene asked her blue eyes glowing just slightly.

"Rafe dose his job well, if he crosses me, he dies," Marcus answered. "Now do you have a place to sleep?" He asked as he headed for the stairs, already plotting his next move, "Or will you be staying with us?" He turned back to look at her.

Selene was already gone by the time Marcus turned. Outside the brownstone the mists had rose again and the horse was gone.

The wave hit the side of the ship, lapping at her bow, pulling at her as her bulk cut the water. Wind filled her sails, pulling her quickly towards the port of RhyDin, cutting the night like a ghost floating over a glass floor. The long white sheets flapped just slightly as the breeze seemed to let up if only for a second before refilling the main sail, the flag on the mast rippled in the breeze, like a harold of strength.

Silents other then the creaking of wooden floorboards, not a mouse or man moved onboard. No sound at all came from her as she approached, not seeming to slow, if anything she seemed to speed up. There was no word from the ship, no signal as it approached, no sign at all that anyone was on board.

As the city docks came closer a shadow seemed to move away from it like some kind of bat or night bird. Minutes later the ship plowed headlong into the docks, wood beams snapped and groaned as the ship listed heavy to the port as she slowed and eventually stopped. Still there was no movement or sound from the ship as workers rushed from storage buildings and shops to look out at the wrecked ship sitting in the pier.

Triple Nine Blood Street, a smirk crossed Victor's features as he stepped from the mists inside the massive brown stone. It was not lost on him the meaning of the number and street name, 666 would have been preferable, but Victor knew that number did not exist on this street. He stopped to look around him, the furniture, the soft lighting, the silents of a house filled with sleeping young. Fangs flashed in a vicious smile, he could kill them all before they even knew he was there.

Victor was not two thousand seven hundred and ninety nine years old by taking stupid chances. Instead he raised his hands the dim lights grew to chase off the shadows. "Marcus," his voice rumbled like a distant storm, "Marcus my child, come to me," he rumbled as he headed across the floor, stopping at a table to lift yet another bottle of bloodwine. He examined the label before pulling the dry aged cork and poured himself a glass into a crystal wine goblet that sat on the silver tray that the wine had been sitting on. Setting the open bottle on the try he looked around himself before moving to a thick plash blood red cushioned chair.

Marcus appeared on the stairs just as Victor was sitting down. His appearance was dishevelled, his flesh red flush from activities with one of his undead children. He was quickly tying a robe at his waist, "My Lord," he stammered shocked, anger flaring deep within him, where was Rafe?

"Ahh Marcus, looks like I interrupted something," Victor rumbled as he swirled the bloodwine in his glass, "pity, I'm sure you would have preferred your mutt of a pet to announce my arrival," he pointed out as he took a drink of the wine.

Marcus watched his lord drink the wine, his eyes wide, "My Lord that's the blood of the very first Pope."

"And a very good drink he makes," Victor answered unphased by the supposedly poisonous liquid, "planning to serve Rome are we?"

"No my Lord," Marcus stammered shocked the ancient vampire still lived, "but that drink, it will kill you."

"No, it will only kill a believer," he answered as he took another drink, "and I was at the birth of that little brat, and trust me, a god he was not," Victor continued as he examined the drink. " I'm almost three thousand years old Marcus, no simple drink will end my life."

Perhaps it was the scent of blood, or the scent of fear, both enticing and encompassing, hungering that which needed to feed, or more likely the smell of something more, something larger, stronger and demanding of perfect obedience, but no matter what it was the evening was broken, the chilled silence torn asunder by the sound, that noise that made beggars cower in the shadow and street walkers tremble behind their pimps. That shadow that detached itself from the light, that flashed it's way through the streets and beyond the safety of the city guard and into the darkness of WestEnd.

The animal seemed to emerge from the shadow, as if leaping free of the last herbal of some grand race and charging for the finish line. In two strides the beast was drawn to a stop, the mare throwing her head, her tail curling around her back hooves as she half reared, brought to a stand still before her rider dismounted crossing in front of her with a trailing hand settling the best. She too could sense it, and it set her on edge, it took a minute for Selene to settle her before the mists rose around her approaching form and the body disappeared.

"No my lord, your vision is as clear as it ever was," Perhaps the strength of Marcus was waning, the mists rose through out the front hall, she could hear the voices beyond.

"Then perhaps young Marcus, you could tell me how you justify this breech in protocol. These rules were made to protect us, yet you blatantly disregard them." There is anger in Victors voice.

Anger, something Victor rarely showed and when he did it was never a good sign, Marcus was sure to pay for his insolence and carelessness.

"My Lord, I only sought to teach my children and keep them alive in times of trial."

"Times of trial," Victor repeated, setting his glass down, he knew she was there he could sense her and standing he looked down at Marcus, "You really are a fool, I should send you to the dogs for this, let them tear you limb from limb, but I have use of you yet," he stated smoothly, his gaze turning towards the door. "Enter Selene, come to me," his hand outstretched beckoning.

Selene's form detached from the shadows, with languid movements a sway of her hips and a sultry look she entered the room, crossing to Victor's side, reaching out to take his hand.

Victor closed his fingers over hers, tugging her to him, an arm wrapping around her waist, his lips pressing to her cheek, "My lady of the night," he muttered, his lips moving lower, teeth brushing her neck, threatening, enticing.

Selene moaned softly, a noise of pure pleasure and lust, "My Lord, what do you will of me?" She asked softly, her free hand resting against his chest, her hip pressing against his.

Victor smiled softly looking towards Marcus. "You want what you can not have, I am back to take control of this mess you have caused Marcus, you will bow before me, and beg my forgiveness."

"Yes my Lord," Marcus answered his eyes moving from Victor to Selene and back, slowly sinking to his knees.

Selene watched the movement with rapt pleasure, yes, she knew where her allegiances laid, she knew whom protected her, fed her and bedded her, and Marcus Crow was not that person. "I think he should watch," a flash of fangs and the slightest of enticements as her hand drifted lower.

Victor glanced at Selene and smiled, fangs glistening, "Yes," he agreed before drawing her towards the thick over stuffed couch without looking towards Marcus.

Marcus grunted softly watching the two move, not daring to move from the stop he was in, but silently plotting to himself, he would have his control and Selene would be his, and Victor would be kneeling at his feet.