The work was not at all slow going, one would have to be a fool to look Marcus Crow in the eye and tell him it would take a while, they wouldn't live long enough to regret it. Cattle disgusted him, mortals were nothing more then fodder, and there was no reason one could not be replaced very easily, even those with building experience. So when Marcus hired a contractor to get to work on the buildings he had purchased, they were fast to the job, leaving all other jobs unfinished.

Marcus didn't care for the building really, it was nothing compared to his estate he owned, but it would do, things were changing in Rhy-Din, young Talomar was seeking power beyond what he could ever accomplish, and Marcus planned on being there through the whole thing. He had watched the girl leave sent away by Talomar in exchange for marriage to that vampire, the one that wasn't right in the head, a decision that hadn't really shocked Marcus, after all Maria was just cattle, but at the sametime he was sure Talomar could do much better then the little vamp he was about to marry.

He never could understand why one would drop themselves to socializing with those of lower status then them, and when it came to Talomar Longden, you didn't get much higher. Though he had to admit to himself he had been accused of associating with lower class when he visited Longden castle, but he ignored those people, they didn't see what he saw, and that was a master vampire with a strength unseen by those higher up, he was a vampire with access to hundreds of worlds, billions of cattle, and in his business cattle counted.

He watched his buildings take shape, the windows were replaced with a cut leaded crystal, the inside the floors were restored to their perfect lusted, with thick velvet chairs and couches an ornate wood desk and straight backed leather chair, ash side tables. Everything was perfectly cozy, and nothing like a business place. Beyond the front room was his wine room filled from floor to ceiling with the finest in wines, below it was the true wine cellar filled with the best blood wines ever seen, blood of emperors, conquerors, queens, and for the truly adventurous alter boys and priests, just diluted enough to make them very potent, but not deadly.

Marcus knew that in order for blood to be truly holy it had to be blood of a true believer, and very few in the church were true believers, men who hungered for flesh forbidden, boys who were not as well behaved as mothers thought they were. These wines would cause a vampire to be very drunk, very fast, but they wouldn't be harmed by them, except for the hang over in the morning. Marcus personally hated the blood wine of minstrels, but many loved it, so he carried it.

Upstairs he had the rooms made up for guests, the unwilling kind, with chains hanging from the ceiling, special flooring, more chains on the floor, gurneys and special bowls and knives. The windows had been replaced by the same cut lead, just like the ones downstairs with a pattern that could not be seen through. Everything had been built to his exact instructions and he was very pleased with how well it all turned out.

As he stood in the middle of the shop he grinned, yes, this was perfect, but he had yet to go to the house next door, he hoped he would not be disappointed as he headed for the door.

In England Miss Grace Singer was just that, a singer in high class gentlemen's clubs of the time. It wasn't a bed living, indeed Miss Grace had made a very good name for herself, her voice was that of an angel and well appreciated by all. It had been her voice that had drawn the dark visitor from his drink and had drawn his eyes to her beauty. She hadn't been very old, twenty, maybe twenty one, if you stretched your imagination, and certainly well brought up. Her mother had been a singer, as had her father in the London opera houses, but she had not the voice to hit such keys as was needed to fallow her parents trade, instead she took her gift into the new times, singing for lords as they enjoyed a good smoke, and excellent port, and the gliding steps of the serving girls.

Everyone knew that a gentlemen's club was just a front for the prostitution that took place in such establishments. Grace had never been a part of that, she was too high class, or else not high enough for the men that admired her gold curls and beautiful blue eyes. Yes Grace was just that, grace in voice and body and movement as she walked through the room, entrancing all who came, and that night, she had lulled in attention she did not need.

She had been too much of an innocent to realize it at the time, the four gentle men had been there a couple of times before, they seemed to draw the best service, and other men often made desperate attempts to join their table, most were turned away, a few were allowed to join them. She wondered about them, who were they that Lords begged their company, surely Lords themselves, maybe Lords who had the ear of royalty. If she were to make acquaintance with such men it could be to her advantage, and get her into some sort of royal gathering, her life could only improve from there.

She sung that night like a nightingale to the stars, such beauty her words were meant to draw them in. And draw them in she did, his eyes never left her as she sung 'That Old Black Magic' and ended her night with it. Little had she known that would be a new beginning for her, she would soon find herself in his arms, whispering sweet love and taking his kisses and his body, and eventually he would take her soul.

From the prow of the black sailing ship Grace watched the lights of Rhy-Din growing closer in the pitch of night. There was no sound around her but for the soft creak of the old wood sailing ship and the sound of her black sails whispering in the wind. A shadow moving towards the port. Here her master would be waiting for her, her father of the night, he would guide her and continue her dark education until at last even Grace would once more be able to walk in day light.

For now she embraced the darkness watching night recede against the lamp light of the city. Foolish humans and their need to chase away the shadows. She was perfectly at home in the night, she was a hunter, nocturnal, she stalked her prey like a panther, lured it in like beautiful bird, and sunk her fangs into it like a deadly cobra. Smiling darkly she ran her tongue over her fangs, yes, soon she would be home, home in her fathers new coven, and she would feed then, and it would be exquisite.