Once Bitten

“Ah, St. Jerome’s. My old stomping grounds.” Silas appeared as if from nowhere, standing at the half-vampire’s back. He’d taken a moment to admire his partner for the evening but with the man’s innate skills, anymore than a moment and he would have been found out. Stealthy as the vampire was, he was still flesh and, well, not so much his own blood these days but he had a presence in the physical world that even a creature of the night couldn’t mask completely. The soft crunch of grass underfoot or the hesitation of the wind beating against his back. Silas strutted around the tree, circling on the young half-vampire with a watchful eye. “Hesitant to go in? That is either because you’ve never been to a vampire club before, or, and judging from the strain of your muscles in those deliciously delicate fists of yours I’m guessing this is more the reason, you’ve been inside and are no longer welcome.” Albus was expectantly mum on the topic of his partner in crime’s history. Always keeping his cards close to his vest was Albus Dumbledore’s signature move, if you didn’t include that dance number from the days of big bands and jazz clubs. Regardless, what Silas knew of the eldest half-vampire sibling working with the Order was mostly conjecture and a little bit of intuition.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 225 //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes:

“Actually, I was just admiring your backside on my walk over.” Silas gave a naughty little smirk, putting on his act a little early but finding it not so much acting as he had expected. “I’d be happy to hold on to it for you. If you insist.” His assumption about his partner in crime appeared to be correct, though the half-vampire didn’t say as much. Silas caught the tightening of muscles and tensing of the man’s perfect jaw as he pondered aloud to the man’s hesitation. So, Dumbledore had aligned himself with at least one vampire hunter and paired him with the thing he hated most. They certainly had a difficult evening ahead of them.

Silas admired the young man’s physique as he straightened himself up, the obvious sounds of wood and metal shifting on the man. A wand. And…knives? If they were going to be in a vampire brawl tonight, knives would be of little help to the half-human but Silas wasn’t planning on fighting. They had sent to spy, and spies generally kept a rather low profile on a mission. He had no intention of letting the mortal start a quarrel that might derail their plans, and he had quickly determined a strategy that would successfully allow this half-vampire, former hunter to enter and exit the mausoleum unharmed. That is, if he could keep that brooding demeanor in check.

“Well, Albus has put us both in quite the situation, hasn’t he? You do not trust me not to kill you, and I, in turn, would be foolish to think you wouldn’t drive one of those daggers straight into my chest at the first chance. So, we’ll have to call a truce. I promise not to bite unless you ask me to, and you must promise to play along.” Silas’ expression turned smug, knowing the man had no choice but to accept if he didn’t want to let down Dumbledore. The charms that wizard held were supernatural, even for the wizarding world, and Silas was well aware that once you agreed to Albus Dumbedore’s terms, you weren’t likely to turn your back on the man unless you were exceedingly arrogant or exceedingly weak-willed. Kit seemed neither. “Shall we?” Silas extended a soft hand to the man as if he were helping a date from a carriage. His expression had turned seductive, yet again.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 395 //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes:

“It works on the right people,” Silas assured Kit, but he let the matter drop. Kit would need to do a better job of pretending not to loathe every second spent with his vampire companion if they were going to get through this evening unscathed.

Silas’ offer had gone unacknowledged, his hand remained extended until Kit’s withering look had passed him by. “Someone’s touchy,” he commented mostly to himself but quite certain those vampiric ears of Kit’s would pick up on the remark. They definitely had their work cut out for them tonight. As the mausoleum grew closer, Silas could hear the sounds of a party from within. He remembered affectlessly his times here and hoped that some of his former notoriety at the establishment would afford them a bit of gossip that might prove useful. Of course, the first step was getting in the place.

The door remained locked for Kit. Silas had already known that it would, and if tall, dark, and brooding hadn’t hurried on ahead of him, Kit would have been let in on that little detail. Nevertheless, Silas approached and reached for the stone door. The inscriptions glowed blue for a moment before the sound of stone on stone signaled the door was opening. Silas gave the door a helpful push, the sounds of the club becoming more pronounced, and smiled at Kit. He then linked his arm through the taller man’s arm and leaned in to whisper in Kit’s ear. “Remember our deal.” Silas had no idea whether this half-vampire of Albus’ had any experience in play-acting, but whatever skills the man did have were going to be put to the test in the next few moments.

Stepping into the mausoleum the darkness of the night had vanished, replaced with another sort of darkness, more purposeful and perhaps even seductive to the right crowd. Steps led down to a large room, with several other rooms and hallways connected like a small labyrinth under the cemetery. It had been some time since Silas had patronized this particular club, but he remembered well enough what took place in some of those other rooms. No doubt he would be steering his sullen companion away from those doors this evening. Instead, still linked to the attractive half-vampire, Silas glided toward the bar. He found them an unoccupied little cocktail table and sat, releasing Kit’s arm with a lovingly trailing hand. Silas pulled the second seat around to the same side of the table as his and patted the seat in invitation, giving Kit a seductive smile. “Sit, darling. I’ll order us something from the bar.” Silas raised a hand to catch the eye of the waitress; a young human, pallid and frail-looking, several pairs of puncture wounds in various stages of healing covering her neck, arms, and wrists, eyes glazed over as if in a trance. She was in a trance, otherwise she would have been screaming or sobbing, perhaps a bit of both. Blessfully, she was unaware of her surroundings and only conscious enough to be a half-decent waitress. Silas placed his hand on Kit’s and squeezed gently, willing him to disregard the poor girl and whatever fate lay before her. “Black Russian for me, and a Bloody Mary for my companion.” He was being cute now and was rather enjoying himself. Silas reached out and gently grabbed the girl by the arm before she turned away. She flinched. “I’ve been out of country for a while, but I’m looking for an old friend. Orin? Does he still come around?” She nodded slowly then walked away. Silas leaned back in his chair and observed the room, his hand still resting atop Kit’s.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 615 //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes:

At one point in his life, St Jerome’s had been something of a home base for Silas, though never home. There were some creatures of the night who liked the idea of living the somewhat nomadic lifestyle, bouncing from graveyard to graveyard, taking shelter in whatever club or bar they found themselves near dawn. That wasn’t the undead life Silas desired. He had always managed a decent living space for himself wherever he went, free of roommates – alive or dead. His current abode was a modestly sized estate, lavishly decorated and far larger than a single vampire truly required but Silas had amassed a small fortune throughout his many decades in this life, and he felt he deserved a little decadence now and again. And again. And again.

“An old friend,” Silas explained of Orin, initially vague before he elaborated. “Something of a gossip in local circles, always has one ear to the ground. I have always found Orin to be useful in more ways than one.” Their drinks appeared magically on the table before them, no doubt the frail waitress was too weak to successfully carry a drink tray to any of the tables without spilling everything on the floor. Silas pulled his hand back to his side of the table, only now recognizing that he was still touching the half-vampire. He picked up his glass and clinked it against Kit’s. “But don’t worry darling,” he said, putting on the act again with a taunting smirk as a shadowy figure emerged from a hallway at Kit’s six. “You’re still the one I’m going home with in the morning.”

He lifted his glass and sipped delicately; eyes locked on the half-human’s in front of him. A pair of attractive vampires laughed loudly as they sauntered down the entrance steps in Silas’ periphery, a young man between them who was very clearly not like the rest of the club’s occupants. He was very much human and appeared very, very inebriated. Yet another feeder but this one appeared to be new. Silas paid the women and their entrée no mind, instead choosing to focus on his date for the evening as the shadowy figure behind Kit grew closer.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 366 //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes:

Kit sat brooding and Silas didn’t mind acknowledging silently that it was an attractive look on the man. The shadowy figure emerged, and Silas finally drew his gaze away from his date. The nasally voice belonged to a stout man; his long beard, the only hair this man possessed, gathered into Viking braids. Silas gave a half smile as he met Orin’s grey eyes, so pale they were nearly white except for the pinprick pupils that were fixed on Kit. “My pet,” Silas emphasized, protectively. “I have not forgotten your charms. If you weren’t so damned ugly, I might be afraid that he’d run away with you, but thankfully I am saved the worry.” Pale eyes turned skeptically toward Silas and the two vampires glared at each other for a moment before Silas cracked. Soon enough they were both smiling, and Silas stood, his arm extended to meet Orin’s in a familiar shake. “Its good to see you my old friend. Won’t you join us? I have much to catch up on after such a long time away, and tales from the Orient to share with you.” A quick flourish of his wand, faster than the naked eye could see, and a third chair appeared on the open side of the table. The invitation was accepted, and the three men sat.

Silas didn’t allow for more than a moment’s silence. There was no telling what sort of reputation his partner for the evening had built in these sorts of establishments, and Silas didn’t want to waste their time while others figured out there was a hunter in their midst. “It seems you’ve done a piss-poor job of controlling the country while I’ve been away,” Silas remarked with a smirk. “I leave for a few decades and am greeted upon my return with wizard infighting. I should have known; you always did love the taste of war.”

“Gives it a tangy aftertaste,” Orin remarked, yellowed fangs visible as he smiled.

“Too sharp for my liking,” Silas bantered. He took another sip of his drink, casually looking about the room at the other patrons and trying to estimate their numbers. There were too many hallways and closed doors to be of any accuracy. He turned back to Orin, hoping the man would offer any insight he might have on the growing wizarding war and what part the vampires had been asked to play, if any. Orin liked to talk but Silas knew if he probed too directly they might be caught on.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 420 heeeyyyyyy //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes:

Friendly banter was interrupted by a strong thud of glass to table. Silas’ dark eyes shifted carefully over to Kit’s. A piss-poor excuse for an undercover agent if he couldn’t even handle a little chatter about blood. Kit asked after the restroom and Orin grunted at him. “Over that way,” the man directed, gesturing to one of the many corridors that led off the main room.

“Don’t be long, darling.” Silas’ expression was casual, letting on nothing in front of their astute company. "Call if you get lost...Or if you'd like company." Silas smirked at the half-vampire. Kit’s sudden urge to relieve himself, however, was not in the plans and Silas didn’t trust that his brooding partner wouldn’t be recognized mid-piss while standing at the urinal. Silas sipped his drink and made a show of admiring Kit’s backside as he stood from the table.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 145 //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes:

Silas turned his attention back to Orin, who had taken Kit’s leave as an excuse to tell a story Silas couldn’t give two shits about. Something about a werewolf he’d met a decade ago – Silas was hoping for something more recent. Perhaps he would need to steer the conversation a wee bit more. They conversed uninterrupted, none the wiser to the battle raging in the room down the corridor; each of the rooms were enchanted with a silencing spell to help keep the other feeders subdued. The only sounds that made it out to the main room were from rooms with lax occupants, not bothering to shut the door as they had their fun. Orin was telling him about a meeting with a Death Eater, vampiric ears perking up at the revelation that they were on to something. Of course, that was the exact moment Kit reappeared, clinging on to the man who’d passed them earlier with the two vampire women.

Silas shot up to his feet as Kit expressed a need to leave, but they weren’t fast enough. One minute another vampire was stood in front of Kit and the feeder, blocking their exit, the next the vampire was flying backward through the air and into a nearby table. In the blink of an eye, Silas was at Kit’s side, slamming a fist into the jaw of a large vampire who was rounding on them. The vampire rocketed off his feet before falling backwards, but he was replaced by nearly half a dozen more, all ready to tear the intruder and his companion apart. There was no time to lay blame to their current predicament, instead Silas simply ushered Kit and his new friend toward the stairs that led to the crypt entrance, grabbing a nearby chair by the back and swinging it at the legs of an oncoming vampire and knocking him to the ground.

Tags: Christopher Erebus Devereaux // Word Count: 317 //
Outfit: Tomb Sweet Tomb // Notes: