- VERONICA -

I wheel at the sound with the Glock in my hand, my finger already on the trigger. Too late, I swear inwardly as I'm being thrown against the fridge and pinned on it by an iron grip around my throat.

A grip that isn't human.

"Before you waste your bullets," says the man, the creature, his deep, baritone voice as unforgiving as the hand that winds around my neck, "be aware that I'm immune to silver and whatever you think you have in your pockets, and also that I will break your neck before you even think about stabbing me with a shot of Wolfsbane. Nod, if you understand me."

I stare at the silhouette that looms over me, a frame so dark against the light it looks like someone has just cut a hole in the room with a pair of scissors. In the middle of that void, a pair of wolf-like eyes pin me in place, promising a quick death if only I make one wrong move. They glow, first in bluish gray, then brighten into a blood-curdling silver. Behind him, a pair of enormous translucent black wings stretches out on either side of his arms, showing a span of at least twice my height. They're bat wings, not those feathery ones you usually see in picture books and movies, and where his lips parted I can see two indescribably sharp fangs peeking out between them.

Fuck.

I bite my lip and give him a nod.

He flashes me a smile that reveals two rows of perfect white teeth, fangs retracted. "Brilliant," he says mildly, probably for the purpose of lowering my guard down. It doesn't work, not one bit.

The hand around my throat loosens as he takes a step back, and now I notice the other, holding the wine bottle I must have dropped when I'd reached for my gun. He follows my gaze and grins at me - the kind of superior grin that tells me he knows exactly what I'm thinking. He's way too fast for me to attack if he'd caught that bottle. He knows it, and now he knows I know it too. "Have a seat, Miss Wolf," he says in a tone of someone used to issuing commands, "or would you prefer I call you Veronica?"

The fact that he knows my name sends a chill down my spine. It means I have been observed, followed, and perhaps even researched. For what and for how long, I'm about to find out.

I draw a breath and step out of his shadow, heading to the table to sit down as I watch him open the bottle of wine and carry two glasses with him towards me. His wings are gone, tucked away somewhere behind the expensive designer suit he wears. He drags out a chair and sits down with the grace and entitlement of someone used to occupying a throne, and I realize then, that I'm dealing with a vampire of rank, of very high rank. This isn't the kind of ruthless creature I'm used to dealing with. They're never this composed around humans, nor do they ever possess any kind of wings. No, this one is something else, and as a precaution, I have to assume that everything he says about his power is true.

I exhale and will my heart to slow. It's not working, not to the extent I need it to. "What do you want?"

He twirls the glass with the efficiency of a wine connoisseur and sniffs at the drink before taking a sip - a ritual that he seems intent on stretching for as long as it pleases him to make me wait for the answer.

"What do I want?" He muses as he puts down the glass but keeps his hand on the stem, caressing it with his thumb and index finger. "Why don't we start with the fact that you are in possession of one of my men?"

I swallow at that, not that I find it surprising. In a way, I've always known one of these days one of them is going to track me down to save a fellow vampire I've caught. Still, it doesn't explain why he's allowing me to sit here drinking wine and having a conversation with him, especially when he has every advantage over me. "I see. What's stopping you from killing me now and getting him out?"

"Courtesy, Miss Wolf." He smiles and sips the wine. "Call it a gesture of goodwill, if you prefer. Although, I did try to send Lucien ahead to talk to you, apparently that didn't work out so well did it?"

So the one in my attic - Lucien - did come to talk. "He attacked me."

"You shot him first."

"I shoot at every vampire," I tell him with a shrug. "What makes him so special?"

He chuckles at my response, and I swear inwardly at the fact that he's so relaxed around me, like I'm carrying nothing but a toothpick when I have two blades in my boots and one strapped to my thigh, not to mention a shotgun on my back.

"Well, now that you have your leverage, I hope you'll be more willing to talk. We're here to make you an offer, one that will benefit us both if we can come to an agreement."

Talk about a deal with the Devil. I consider myself a reasonable person, and I'm willing to listen to what he has to propose, but first things first. "What happens if we can't?" I happen to be the kind of girl who insists on hearing bad news at once. Not a habit that makes me happy, but definitely one that keeps me alive.

"Then there will be nothing to stop me from killing you and getting Lucien out." It was a statement, a chore to be carried out, a promise.

I nod, despite the fact that all I want to do is to grab a knife and stab him where he sits. I'll die for that, and I know it. "I'm listening."

He smiles a little in approval as if I'm a kid who's just decided to behave. "For the past four years, you've been hunting down my kind, looking for answers that will lead you to your family's murderer -"

"Murderers," I correct, cutting him short. There were three. Three that I have no idea whatsoever what they look like, save for a tattoo on one of them that I saw through the holes of that crate.

He pauses a little and waits for me, the same way an adult might wait for a child's tantrum to pass rather than engage. I could stab him twenty times for that arrogance alone, and the thought of ruining that wrinkle-free designer suit just to wipe that superior smirk off his face suddenly becomes my newest, wildest fantasy.

"Go on," I say irritatingly, noticing as I did how there isn't even a single lint on that suit. Either he's a neat freak or he has people to wait on him. I have a feeling it's both. It means he cares about details, and someone who cares about little details can be dangerous to deal with or to hide your thoughts from.

"I can help you get that information. Even kill them for you if you'd like," he says casually like he only needs to snap his fingers to get it done.

I snort at that. "You expect me to believe you'd kill your own kind for me?"

"And you don't, Miss Wolf, kill your own kind?" He gives me a smile, and I clamp my mouth shut at a statement I can't negate. "We are not the ones responsible for the majority of cold-blooded murder that happens around here, no matter how much you wish that were true. May I?" He reaches for the bottle, brings it to my empty glass and pauses.

I give him a nod, and he fills it carefully.

"How many vampires do you think there are, Miss Wolf?"

I shrug at the question. "Enough for me to make a profession out of killing them."

He smiles. "And if I tell you there are more than ten thousand where I come from?"

"Then you'd be lying." They would have been captured by now, experimented upon, exposed in the news. In the past four years of actively looking for them, I have come across no more than twenty, and I've killed twelve of those.

"The problem with humans is that you think we are monsters lurking in the shadows of your world, preying on your blood to survive, when the truth is you are a very small part of our lives, no matter how hard it is for you to imagine so."

"Ah, but that is what you do," it's my turn to sneer, "lurk in the shadows of our world and pray on our blood, or do you deny it?"

"Some of us do." He sips the last of his wine and fills his glass with more. No permission asked this time. "The human blood is a delicacy, a cure to our diseases and injuries. It's also a form of stimulant - a highly addictive one, not so different from cocaine in your world. And like cocaine, it's rare, expensive, and illegal to have in possession without a permit."

"Illegal to have what in possession without a permit?" There's something I don't like about the way that sounds. "Blood bags?"

He pauses for a moment as if to give me time. "Stock and living supplies."

Living supplies. Suddenly I feel my dinner threatening to come back up. In my mind, things are becoming clearer and clearer. Those missing people that were never found dead or alive. The ones that were caught whose corpses never turned up.

"Human trafficking is a problem we are trying to deal with," he continues almost apologetically, "but the smugglers' network is too well hidden within your society which we can't infiltrate. The truth is, Miss Wolf, we're only the end consumers," he puts the glass back on the table and looks at me intently, not smiling now, "the supplier, I'm sorry to say, is your own kind."

If there has been a floor underneath my feet, I can't feel them now. My head is spinning with the information I want to reject, but the pieces of unsolved puzzles are coming together without me trying to arrange them. They snap into place like it's something I've known all along. "I've seen your kind kill and feed on the innocent," I say, my own denial tastes bitter in my mouth.

"Junkies, I believe that's what you call them," he explains with a slight frown. "A small number of them sneak out from time to time to feed. Usually addicts who've run out of money or options."

A small number, he says. My blood runs cold at the thought of how many vampires I've killed in the past four years. If what he says is true, if there are truly thousands and thousands of them, then what have I been doing all along? More importantly, where's the lair?

I don't think he would answer the question, but what do I have to lose? "Sneak out from where?"

"Let's just say we live in a different realm. A different dimension, some might call it," he tells me easily as if it isn't a secret he needs to keep, like I'm not a threat in any way he chooses to see it. "The human world is not where we belong. It's our playground. The underground pub some of us come to get high. Our worlds do not collide, they are connected by gateways that open every full moon. That's why you see more of us during those nights."

I stare at him in disbelief, hoping that he's waiting for the right moment to say it's all just a jest, a practical joke he's trying to pull. But he does no such thing, and it makes perfect sense. Those abducted children and women who were never found dead or alive from the same areas. The vampires who hide in the shadows and never attack. Why there are so many of them but never enough victims to convince the public they exist. They're not hiding in someone's basement or in the woods to feast on us. There is an entire realm of them I can do nothing about, an entire society of vampires, including my family's murderers, who can come and go as they please. I feel sick.

"I wish there were an easier way to break this to you," he says in a tone more business like than one filled with sympathy, "but you're not going to find your parents' murderers without my help, or from here."

I look down at my hand, how it's trembling without my knowledge, and quickly close them into fists under the table so he doesn't see it. For ten years I've lived with one, single goal I've sacrificed everything to reach - to find and kill the vampires who'd murdered my parents, and rid the world of every single one of their kind I can get my hands on. But all that doesn't matter now, does it? Not if there's an entire realm full of them somewhere I can't reach. "What do you want from me?" I hear myself ask, but I'm not feeling the words. My mind is blank, and I can't see anything but my parents' corpses on the floor of my attic. The whole thing is making me dizzy, or maybe it's just the wine.

"Your service, Miss Wolf," he says, uncrossing his legs as he leans forward. "You will work for me as my contact in the human world, to obtain information, infiltrate the syndicate, and help us bring down the network that smuggles your kind into my realm, killing a few vampires in between. It's a win-win situation for both of us. I want this to end as much as you do."

It does sound like a win-win situation, but I don't like agreeing to something that's too good to be true, especially when it's a vampire that is offering the opportunity. Something just doesn't feel right. "What's your stake in all this?" I ask. "Surely you're not doing this for the sake of humanity."

"I'm impressed." His eyes light up with the kind of interest and admiration that makes me shift in my seat like he's just discovered a new source of entertainment or a brand new delicacy that makes his mouth water. "Let's just say, that it benefits my position to be rid of them."

"Ah," I don't bother hiding my satisfaction to being right. There is an ulterior motive to all of this, perhaps more than one. "Business conflict?"

"Political."

My hunch is not wrong. A vampire of rank, of very high rank. "Who are you?"

"My name is Remus Valentin. That is all you need to know," he says, "for safety purposes."

"I see." For safety purposes. "Yours or mine?" The win-win situation is starting to sound more like a suicide mission, as far as I'm concerned.

"For the both of us," he replies smoothly. "Someone may try to use you against me, and then I'll have to kill you."

"Of course," I say with an edge to my tone I don't care to hide. "I forgot how easy it is for you."

The smile he gives me then is, again, that of an adult to a child. "Do you find it difficult to kill one of us, Miss Wolf? Are we really that different?"

I bite my lip at the truth in those words. We are not monsters, I want to say, but I know how childish and naive that is, how much worse we can be as a specie. Still, it doesn't mean I should trust him any more than any stranger on the street. "How do I know you'll hold your end of the deal?" He can easily use me and then never deliver or say just say he can't find them.

"You don't," he replies blatantly like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

I blink a few times at that. "So you expect me to slave for you and take your word for it?"

"I don't see you having much of a choice." He smiles, this time in the way that makes my skin crawl. "The wine you have been drinking is contaminated with my blood, which in small amount will act as a poison, killing you slowly within a month. In large amount, you will die instantly and you'll turn. The amount you have ingested is small and can be kept in check with a daily intake of antidote. The effects should be kicking in right about now. How do you feel, Miss Wolf?"

My mind goes suddenly blank at those words, and it takes me a few seconds to understand what he's saying. How do I feel? I'm nauseas. My head hurts and I feel like I'm half way between being drunk and having a bad migraine. I have been blaming it on the wine and the anxiety of the whole situation, but this burning sensation underneath my skin is something I have no explanation for. Now I feel numb all over, not from the poison, but for realizing the trap I've just fallen into. I don't know which is rising faster, the fever I seem to be getting from the poison, or my anger that is about to go through the roof.

"You poisoned the wine when you opened it." It's a statement, not a question. 'Courtesy,' he said. There has never been an intention to negotiate me into this. Not from the very beginning. "You unimaginable bastard."

"Your choice," he continues, ignoring my insult as though it was no more than a nuisance made by small insects, "is to work for us, or be content with dying young. If you choose to cooperate, you will be given the antidote. It will stop the poison from attacking your internal organs if you take it daily until my blood is gone from your system, which will take about a year."

One year. I want to throw up, to scream, to claw his eyes out, to beat myself to a pulp for allowing this to happen. My whole body is trembling, my nails are digging into my palms as I sit there, trying to figure out how I've let it come to this.

"I wouldn't beat myself up too much if I were you," Remus says almost sympathetically. "You've managed to surprise Lucien, that's something. That reminds me." He looks up to the ceiling, cocks his head a little to one side as if trying to catch a sound.

And finds it.

I jump off my chair the same moment Lucien appears in front of me. My hand snatches the gun from my hip by reflex and points it in his direction. Lucien disappears in the same instance and something hard slams into the right side of my head. My vision blurs, and the next thing I know, I'm on the ground, the gun in my hand knocked out and landed a few feet away. I try to reach for it, and Remus steps in front of me, standing firmly between me and the weapon.

"Don't," Remus says, the lazy, baritone voice is now filled with unmistakable authority. "The two of you will be working closely together from now on, and I will not tolerate conflicts among my men. Consider it my first and last warning."

From the corner of my eyes, I see Lucien taking something from his pocket and handing it to Remus. "These are your antidotes," Remus says, placing a small glass vial containing a few dozens of pills on the table. "You will be contacted again and given a full briefing on what we need you to do. Until then you will lay low and rearrange all your other engagements that may interfere with the job. Do you understand?"

By then I can hardly get off the floor. My head is spinning out of control. My throat is burning like someone is pouring hot coal down my throat. I nod, despite the voice in my head that is screaming at me to fight, to kill him, to draw blood.

Not yet. I snap back at it. Not now.

"Take the pill, Miss Wolf, and try not to get yourself killed before we meet again."

And just like that, they disappear. I realize then that both of them can teleport, that I may have caught Lucien only because he's been ordered to keep me alive. Through my elaborate scheme to catch a vampire I've foolishly walked myself into a trap I can't get out of. Now I'm going to have to work for them or I won't get the rest of the antidote. Remus is too powerful for me to go up against, and possibly protected by an army of vampires who could kill me in a heartbeat. Under the circumstance, I might as well die today and save myself the misery.

The problem with that is, I've never been someone who can stand being knocked down without turning it into one hell of a fight. Nobody gets to push me to the ground and walk away with their lives intact. I may not be able to hurt them, and they may end up killing me, but if I'm going down I'll make damn sure they come down with me. O swear I'll die a death to remember. So I push myself off the floor and crawl to the antidote he's left on the table. I take out a pill and I wash it down my throat.

One day, before all this is over, I'm going to make him pay for what he's done.

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A/N: This is the second version of this part that has been cleaned and tightened as much as I could (2000+ words taken out isn't easy by any means lol). I hope it's better. Let me know what you think. Please do vote and comment if you enjoy the story :)