Thursday night/Friday morning, just after midnight.

Negotiator. Peacekeeper. These are what she had become. Things were different here; the people unfamiliar, the rules changed. Creatures of all myths and legends resided in this city, had lives, did as they wished. There was no guaranteed pecking order, no official way of handling interactions between the races. It had left Petra with a few initial trials to overcome once she and Canaan had arrived in Rhydin. Not everyone got along in this collaboration of a city, and not everyone enjoyed outsiders stepping foot on their turf.

Tharas Enterprises; the ginormous building stretched its mirrored neck for the black sky. She had first come there a year and a half ago, at the request of the company?s leader, a vampire overlord by the name of Marco. It was a meeting of diplomats, to establish peace or war. Peace had been the final outcome, but not without its limits.

Mounting the steps to the front of the building, she wasn?t surprised to see the two guardsmen standing at either side of the door. They looked her over as she approached -- the red-soled heels, pristine black dress, pink hair bundled up off of her shoulders, naked neckline but bedecked fingers. The tattoos clashed beautifully with the level of class, as did the piercings and shade of hair. One of the men held out a hand, and she stopped.

?M? here ta see T?aras.?

The man?s face scrunched. He turned it for his shoulder, pressing the small black device that was tucked into his ear. There were a few quiet words, those of which Petra pretended not to hear, before the man looked back to her, and curtly nodded.

Stepping through the doorway, it entered her into a large welcoming space, two desks lining the walls both left and right, before thinning down to a narrower hallway, elevators installed on both sides.

She pressed the button to one, listening to the quiet ding as the metal box descended. There were four men seated behind the desks out front. One of them stared at her via a camera-fed screen. It didn?t unnerve her.

As the elevator doors spread open, it was yet another failed surprise that there was another man standing inside, next to the button panel. He was tall, brown-haired with matching eyes, broad of shoulder, thick of hand. Petra could see the hilt of the sword crest she herself had imbedded into the flesh of his inner left wrist as it peeked from the sleeve of his well-to-do suit.

?Hello, Dante,? she said coolly, stepping into the elevator. Dante pushed the correct floor then turned his head to look at her as the doors closed.

?Haven?t seen you around in awhile,? He said. His accent was thick, Italian. ?You?ve been able to keep that dog brother of yours on a tight leash??

Petra would have been content ignoring Dante for the duration of the ride, along with the precise ding as each floor passed by. But he liked to goad, to poke and prod, to try and mess up the carefully collected persona and draw out the more dangerous part of her.

She never took the bait.

Sliding her eyes over to him, and up since he was a half a foot taller, she gave him instead a small, convincingly genuine smile. ?T?ings have been goin? well.?

He snorted. ?Couldn?t be if you?re here.?

?Dere?s a reason dat yer standin? in here an? not sittin? next ta T?aras,? she said, stepping forward as the final chime rang. ?Dun try ta understand what?cha dun do.?

Dante surged forward with one step, coming up close next to her, his presence invading her space. She didn?t flinch like he wanted her to, and that just pissed him off more. His mouth opened to say something and--

?Ah, Petra.?

Both she and Dante looked out into the massively wide room the elevator was spilling into, to the man seated at the desk situated at the opposite end. His fingers were steepled, elbows perched on the supple wood, his dark hair swept back and mouth curved wide into a smile.

?If this isn?t a surprise. Please,? he waved a hand at the room, ?come in.?

Petra watched as he cut a look to Dante, the brute stepping back into place and pushing another button. She felt his eyes bore into her back until the doors closed.

?And to what do I owe the pleasure?? he asked, motioning to the pair of leather armchairs before folding his hands on top of the desk.

?M? here ta tell ya,? she said, stepping around one of the chairs and setting herself down, one leg crossing over the other, hands coming to rest in her lap. ?Dat one of yer men is dead.?

Marco was old for a vampire -- his lineage came from ancient Rome, his birthplace long turned to ruin. During his lifetime, he had been a diplomat, a trade in which he brought with him after his turning. He had built for himself an empire, one that he carried from reincarnation to reincarnation, an assurance of wealth and power that would stay with him for as long as he lived. It also meant that he was skilled, nearly impossible to read. It was a challenge, even for Petra, and now was of no difference.

?You say that one of my men is dead,? he repeated, carefully. His accent made it sound almost eloquent. ?And how, pray tell, do you happen to know this??

??Cause I know who killed ?im.?

?Your brother,? he assumed, fixing her with a look.

?No,? she surprised him. ?Was someone else.?

Marco kept staring at her for longer than was necessary. She kept the look, held it. The building could crash and burn around them and still neither of them would have looked away.

?Since you?ve come to tell me before the news could reach my ears,? he started. ?I?ll assume that whoever it is that killed my man is someone that is close to you, and you?re here to try and prevent my wrath from our treaty being broken.?

?Dat?s right.? She knew better than to lie; the vampire could see through guises like they were water. And besides, that was exactly why she was there. ?Yer man attacked m?friend. No warnin?, no chance ta back off. M?friend didn? know ?bout de agreement -- and dat?s my fault.? Marco was still staring at her. She continued, undaunted. ?It was an accident, all ?round. I dun t?ink it qualifies ?nough fer a full annulment of de treaty.?

The silence that fell was thick, laden with truth and unknown consequence. The two stared at each other, the vampire and the warlock, for minute upon heavy minute.

Finally, ?You say that it was an accident.?

Petra nodded.

?And you say that my man didn?t give your? friend any warning.?

Another nod.

Marco leaned back, the leather of his chair expensive enough not to creak, before he pushed himself to his feet, coming around the side of the desk.

?I do not wish for there to be war between us, Petra,? he said, leaning back against the solid mass of wood, his arms folding loosely across his chest. ?That is not why you and I designed this contract. I believe you and what you say, and I do not wish to proclaim open hostilities against you. You are?? He took moment to cant his chin, eyeing her. ?A worthwhile associate. An ally, even. And you have yet to lie to me or betray my trust.

?With that being said,? he continued, pushing himself from his lean and extending a hand out to her. ?I believe that we have arrived at the same agreement, that no negative actions need to take place on either side.?

The thought of touching the vampire made her skin crawl, and her instincts almost betrayed her, skin flashing hot. But instead, she took the offered hand, stood when he helped her to rise. She could see the tips of his fangs while he smiled, and she returned it with a closed-lipped version of her own.

?I ?preciate yer time, Marco, an? yer understandin?.?

?The pleasure was all mine, I assure you. What is a simple misunderstanding when it comes to our? friendship.? He lowered his mouth to the back of her hand, kissed it with lips too cold to be alive. It made her stomach curl into knots, but still, she kept her smile.

?M? sure yer busy. I?ll see m?self out.? Slipping her hand from his and stepping backward around the armchair, she turned after two more steps, torn between relief and mild annoyance that the elevator doors were already opening, Dante standing in wait.

?Just one more thing,? Marco called after her. She paused, half looking back over a shoulder. ?Tomorrow night. Join me for dinner.?

?No, t?anks.? She answered, continuing for the exit. ?I dun mix business wit? pleasure.?

Marco grinned as the doors shut behind her.