Chapter 6 - The Next Step

[The Royal Administration Building]

"Hey Harry, did you hear about the trouble down in Effinborough?"

"There's always trouble in Effinborough. It puts up a fancy fa�ade, but in the end it's just a home to thieves and whores."

The vampire paused briefly in its walk across the hall. The two clerks were recognized as the biggest gossips in the building and while they rarely said anything of any real import, it had managed to pick up a tidbit or two of information from them in the past. It reached for a pitcher of water and poured itself a drink.

"True, Kent, true, but this trouble goes a bit deeper than that. A whorehouse burnt down. Two neighboring building were also partially burned before they got the fire under control."

"A whorehouse? No trouble there. Good riddance, I say. And I'm sure its neighbors were no better."

"That's not the point, stupid. Shut up for a minute and let me get to the good part."

There was a pause as Harry glared at Kent. The vampire leaned back against the wall and sipped at the water. The two clerks paid it no mind. After a moment, Kent continued.

"I have it on very good authority that when the guard searched the wreckage of the building they found something they did not expect."

Kent winked in a conspiratorial fashion and Harry leaned forward eagerly. The vampire had seen such exchanges before. Some governmental official had been caught in a compromising position. The scandal would be all over the city within a day and the embarrassed person would be forced to resign. No news here. The vampire set down the empty cup and continued on its way.

"In the wreckage they found the charred remains of a were-creature."

Harry guffawed. The vampire paused. Maybe there was something to this.

"Why are you laughing?" Kent demanded.

"A were-creature...in a whorehouse. Oh wait, I get it...they catered to those freaks who go in for animal love." Harry doubled over, tears forming on his cheeks.

"It's not funny. I have a very reliable source! He said the body was definitely a were-creature."

Harry continued to laugh uncontrollably.

The vampire could smell Kent getting angry. "It's true, I tell you. And it wasn't the fire that killed it. There were stab marks in the body!"

"That...is the most...RIDICULOUS...story...you have...ever told me."

The vampire walked out. It had heard enough and it was certain the clerk had been telling the truth. The matter bothered it more than a little. Not the part about the were-creature. It had and could deal with such problems. No, what bothered it were the stab marks. Someone else was hunting were-creatures. Someone besides itself.

There wasn't room enough in this city for two major predators. Something would have to be done.

[Griffin]

Griffin found the vampire hunter sitting on the front porch of the elder hostel. He pulled up a chair and joined him.

"Well, thought of our next move?"

He was back in disguise as the old man, but having had access to his make-up kit, it was purely cosmetic now. He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve and noticed Davian's questioning eyebrow.

"Kelisharii is unsure of how to handle the wound. She tells me there is a rare herb that her people claim has worked in repressing the disease in the past, but she has no firsthand knowledge of its effectiveness. She will return later tonight to try it.

"In the meantime, she cleaned and dressed the scratch and poulticed it with herbs known to draw out infection."

Davian didn't look convinced.

"It is a start. Full moon isn't for two more days. We still have some time."

[Davian]

Davian rocked back in his chair and glanced toward the sky, where the moon would soon breach the topmost rim of the surrounding buildings. Two more days. A lot could happen in two days. Many things that were not good. Still, Davian kept his thoughts to himself and held out hope that Griffin was strong enough to resist the pull and maybe even derive some benefit from the whole infective mess.

The evening was slowly beginning to settle down onto the city and Davian saw no imminent need to start the hunt all over again. He and Griffin could relax, discuss the import of various things, and then he could wander off to this proposed meeting. He opted not to tell Griffin about the meeting yet.

"Have you had any thoughts about the situation?" Davian started to question Griffin, then realized the man was probably somewhat preoccupied with his scratch and the beautiful gypsy woman who had tended to him. Didn't hurt to ask, but Davian decided to play it out and continued, "we have a handful of dead werethings. We have at least one of them killed by a vampire. Could it possibly be some form of brood war?" Davian paused and then he realized Griffin was going to stay quiet until he'd said his fill. "Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way. Perhaps, instead of searching out lycanthropes we should go after the source... directly after any vampires we can find." He paused a moment to consider. "Of course, there could be a hundred in a city of this size." He gave a sarcastic grin at the thought.

Davian stood and stretched, "be right back with some bitter refreshment."

He wandered into the bar and noted that the heavy from the whorehouse was still rambling away at the barmaid. A few moments later he returned with a beer in each hand and passed one to Griffin as he sat in the creaky chair. "Come up with anything new while I was away?" He asked idly, watching for the first stars to poke out of the dusk canvas overhead.

[Griffin]

"Possibly. I've been reviewing the facts in my mind. Here's what we know. Three government officials were killed by a vampire. The last one to be killed, Jeremy Woods, was a were-rat and in charge of a sewer excavation. The excavation site opens into a system of caves beneath the city where we discovered a were-rat lair. The were-rats had connections with a minor whorehouse, as evidenced by the fact that the madame's son was one of them. The second victim, Kenneth Reeves, frequented the same whorehouse. He was not a were-creature, but had 'dealings' with the were-rat's contacts there.

"None of these facts point to any sort of relationship, good or bad, with a vampire. Why would a vampire want to hunt these two down? Political reasons?" Griffin shook his head. "That just doesn't ring true to me. If our vamp is so canny that he can worm his way into the upper echelon of Almedean society undetected, it's silly to think that he would blow his cover over a simple political matter. Why not use more conventional political maneuverings?"

Griffin sipped at his beer. "The only thing that ties these two victims together is the lycanthrope connection. The more I think on it, the more I feel you've touched on a strong possibility with your 'brood war' theory. What if the vampire discovered that a group of weres is moving in on his territory? Unable to act through political channels, he would have to make it personal. So he questions the source of his information. Things turn ugly and he kills the guy, but not before the source gives up victim number two. He hits up the next guy, and the cycle repeats itself.

"I have a hunch that if we check out the recent political activities of victim number one, we'll find that Horace Ferintal suddenly switched his views on several important issues so that the situation favors the weres. If that's the case, and we can show some connection between Ferintal and Reeves, we'll know your theory is right."

[Robbere, location Unknown]

The reek of human offal was strong in Robbere's nose. The squishy flooring and the huge lump on his head made it hard to sit up. He tried to look around and could see nothing aside from the glint of torchlight passing through a crack some distance above. He groped about the slimy floor, repressing the urge to lose his last meal, searching for anything that would let him know where he was or how he was going to get out. A warm trickle of water, or whatever it was, ran across the little space he was in, and apparently under a wall. He couldn't swim so that was out even if he'd wanted to try.

The last thing Robbere remembered was being bear hugged by that beast of a doorknob. He could vividly recall the details of the bastards face. He must have passed out, since he was unable to breath in that constricting grip. Moving gingerly, he discovered many bruises, what felt like blood, and many tears in what was left of his old clothing. They had beat him well. Especially considering he remembered none of it.

The wall was rough hewn, apparently just opened up enough to use the natural flow of water to clear away the whorehouse offal in all its forms. He stretched, barely able to make his left arm move and reached for a slight indentation in the wall. That bastard doorstop was going to pay for this one. He was on official business. The thought startled him and made him slump back to the slimy floor. He felt around his clothes but there was no sign of the message he had been carrying. Damn. Double damn. He'd hunt that son of a goat down and gut him. A part of Robbere just wanted to ditch town and start someplace else, but he knew the thieves guild wouldn't let that happen. He had to find and kill that bastard and recover his note. With renewed energy, he grabbed again for the slot in the wall.

[Davian]

As the last of his bitter draught fled down his throat, Davian crinked his nose. The man who had shambled past at a fast limp was covered in filth and reeked of waste. Davian put his nose into the grimy ale mug and took a breath. He normally wasn't upset by such smells, but he hadn't been prepared for it at all. A glance in Griffin's direction and he saw the same disgust on the soldier's face. Figuring that the guy would be forcibly removed from the premises, Davian motioned to Griffin to go around the side. He would wait a short while and stay out of the way. He had made only two steps when shouting erupted inside the building.

He raised an eyebrow as Griffin turned and wandered inside the place, not in a seeming hurry, but he went quick enough.

Davian turned and followed him inside. The scene was gory to be certain.

The little man was rifling through the pockets on the bouncer like an old hand. The bouncer twitched feebly on the floor, and moaned, but most of his blood was seeping through the loose floorboards. The barmaid was screaming obscenities and throwing heavy mugs at the little pickpocket, but he was ignoring them, even the ones that clanked off of his matted dirty head. The little man rose with a wordless shout of aggravation and stomped down hard on the thick's throat. Even with all the muscle the man had surrounding his neck, it snapped audibly as the thief's foot crashed home. A chunk of broken tile, obviously sharp, lay on the floor. Its pattern a fairly rich red, like you would find in a brothel.

That was when it clicked. This had been the unfortunate fool who the newly deceased had ransacked for trying to enter the whorehouse earlier.

The one who had been carrying the letter in his pocket.

With a last look at those who were mostly struck still and holding their collective breaths, the little thief gave another yell and half ran, half stumbled from the place. His odor would linger and mix with the smell of fresh blood for hours though.

Davian frowned. This would likely bring in the authorities. He looked to Griffin to see what his reaction would be.

"This is a right mess. Perhaps we should stay elsewhere."

It seemed many of the other patrons agreed and were slipping out of the door in groups and quietly going elsewhere.

[Griffin]

"I think you're right."

He moved off down the hall to their room, Davian close behind. When they were inside, Griffin gathered up his meager belongings.

"I think we should split up. Things are moving too slowly, and if you're right about the brood war, the mayhem we've seen so far is just the beginning. I'll go to the Royal Administration Building and investigate the parliamentary record of Ferintal. I've got some contacts there who can help me out.

"You try to track down any information you can regarding the were-rats. If they're organized enough to influence the government, they've got to have made some enemies in the street. And see if you can make a connection between Reeves and Ferintal. With you working one way and me coming from the other, we're bound to find whatever's there."

[Davian]

Davian nodded his assent. It would certainly make life easier on him if he didn't have to sneak around his partner.

"Shall we meet up at a predetermined time and place? You'll have to choose. I don't know much more than what we've seen today. Let us aim for 3 days hence, in the evening."

Davian grabbed his backpack, which never managed to get emptied into the bare room and slung it over his shoulder. It was quite comfortable after the years he had worn it there, even conformed to his back.

"I believe I will pay a visit to the local thieves. I imagine my note has gotten through by now and some of the members will be curious. Shouldn't be hard to find."

[Griffin]

Three days. In three days the full moon would be come and gone. In three days he would know if his life had changed forever. Three days seemed like an eternity. Still, Griffin admitted to himself that he would rather face the specter of lycanthropy on his own terms without having to worry about an overzealous partner with a magic sword who might decide to run him through should he be unable to manage the disease.

"Three days, then. Meet me at the Josphin Auction House at noon." He grinned. "Try to be inconspicuous."

He stuck out his hand. The two men took hold of each other�s forearms and shook.

"Best of luck."