Chapter Text
Elena was not an accountant. She was not a business owner. She was a hunter. But now that she was Consort to an Archangel, it was expected that she would have her own pet projects. Elijah’s Consort, Hannah, had instituted a thriving system of patronage for artists, both mortal and immortal. In times of peace, her salons were legendary. Although that style of gathering was not particularly of interest to Raphael, Aodhan had once been a frequent attendee, both as patron and as artist. It was a credit to Hannah’s flexibility that modern and unusual forms of art were also welcome, and film studios in Elijah’s territory tended to dominate the awards circuit.
So while Elena’s gardens were a true passion, it was good to have more visible interests, ones that allowed her to get to know the people of her territory and let them know her in return. Although she would not be expected to grow into her role immediately, an archangelic consort was expected to wield soft power and develop a connection with the people in their territory that an Archangel never could. There would always be a gap between Raphael and his people. The harsh world of immortal politics required it.
But Elena had once been mortal and her choices in pet projects reflected it.
She sponsored a local hot dog stand that developed a fly-by entrance. Their “Swoop To Pay” plan was taking off, and the sight of angels regularly diving bombing the 3 story tall secondary kiosk certainly didn’t hurt their foot traffic.
She was heavily involved in the post-battle reconstruction projects, specifically in expanding green spaces throughout the city. Many buildings had been destroyed or made structurally unsound in Lijuan’s assault and Raphael had surreptitiously purchased a number of lots. There was also a big push towards green rooftops and from the air their city was acquiring the look of a bedraggled empty lot, shoots defiantly starting to reclaim the manufactured space.
She worked with her hunter friend Ransom to sponsor free needle exchanges and STD testing.
One of her earliest projects, Blood For Less, a company run by Marcia, an ambitious newly out of contract vampire, sold flavored blood to those who didn’t want the fuss of finding a willing donor or wanted something nice to celebrate a special occasion. Elena had first met the woman when blood from a tainted donor ended up killing several vampires in the city, as a part of a plot to undermine Raphael. What had started as a pity investment, a way to repay the poor woman whose livelihood had almost been destroyed by archangelic politics had turned into a surprising information goldmine.
The flavored blood business had caught like wildfire and supplied thousands in their territory. Even Venom, who had been made immortal by the Archangel Neha specifically due to his skills as a chef, was known to have a bottle on occasion. It hadn’t escaped Elena’s notice that the range and quality of curried blood options had seen a significant uptick.
Immortals rarely gave a second thought to the delivery driver, and several times unusual behavior during deliveries had flagged real problems. Several unwanted visitors to their territory had been identified and quietly tailed. On one memorable occasion a group of young vampires had actually ordered catering for their strategy session plotting the acquisition of the territory of one of Raphael’s injured soldiers. Raphael hadn’t been amused, already dealing with more than enough trouble in the battle’s aftermath and had passed along the information to the injured soldier’s three vampiric lovers.
Most of Blood For Less’ customers were younger vampires who would have rarely shown up on the Tower’s radar, and the new coverage was proving vital. In Elena’s career as a hunter, it was her experience that most newly turned vampires attempting to ditch out on their contract went to family. Apparently there was also a growing trend in attempting to “lay low” on bottled blood without realizing that an account and a delivery address was basically a signed personal invitation to whichever hunter had been assigned to track them down.
As far as Elena was concerned, Blood For Less’ points loyalty program was saving the Guild so much in paid overtime hours that they could start charging a consulting fee. But Elena never would. She had arrived late to too many scenes of carnage caused by rogue vampires. She would do anything to spare someone else the horrors of her childhood. Besides, although they were never appreciative at the time, a quick, quiet arrest was the best outcome for the vampires as well. Elena had seen the casual cruelties angels could issue as punishment and publicly embarrassing their master was a sure way to make a bad situation worse.
Their world seemed cruel, but all vampires entered into their contracts willingly, with eyes fully open. 100 years of service in exchange for eternity as an immortal. You couldn’t call take-backs on immortality. Raphael and the Seven kept an eye out for the worst behavior, but ultimately each angel had near complete authority within their own domain. And even viciously cruel angels like Nazarach were necessary in maintaining safety. Elena still struggled with the idea of tolerating such a viper, but she was still an infant in terms of angelic politics. And they were still at War.
Still, there were many customers of Blood-For-Less that chose to remain anonymous. Some were older vampires that didn’t want to be seen hopping on a trend. Others were the self-loathing type. When Elena had been a child, a vampire had lived in their neighborhood, making all possible efforts to pass as an ordinary human. Without Elena’s keen hunter senses and childish curiosity, it would have worked.
Similarly, immortality did not always correspond to wealth. Homelessness and drug use, through a process known as honey feeding, occurred in the vampiric world as well as the human one. When a vampire was released from their contract, there was a nominal payout to ensure they establish themselves independently from their former angelic masters. Unfortunately, many newly released vampires had no support system, their human families long dead. Add however many years of possible trauma from dealing with immortal politics, and it was unsurprising that a sizable minority struggled in the years post contract. It was a problem for which Elena was only beginning to understand the scope.
One of Elena’s first initiatives, in conjunction with the Tower, was in establishing a system of vampiric food stamps. Hungry, desperate, vampires loose in the city was a disaster waiting to happen. Blood-for-Less had a cheap, unflavored, option available free of charge to any vampires in the city who applied for assistance.
According to her vampiric friends, it tasted like shit compared to blood direct from the vein, particularly since the blood used in their products was acquired 100% from sources not fit for use in human blood transfusions. Vampires were immune to human diseases, so intensive testing was not required for their direct suppliers and several hospitals sold them expired donor blood as a way to recoup costs. This had the unexpected benefit of lowering the rate of blood shortages for humans in the area, since there was less risk for the hospital in keeping more stock on hand.
Marcia had a digital system for passing information to the Tower, so it was a bit unusual for the vampire to reach out directly, but Elena had gained well founded respect for the young vampire’s intuition. So when her secretary (it still baffled Elena that she was the type of person to have a secretary) requested a meeting, Elena set a quick note that Marcia was welcome to join her in her gardens. Although she typically kept her hobbies far from business, Marcia was young and flexible enough as to not be offended by the sight of her Archangel’s consort digging around in the dirt. And Elena hoped the setting would ease some of the vampire’s nerves.
An unlucky strike had hit one side of the gardens during the latest battle, and Elena was in the midst of painfully repotting what could be salvaged and setting aside for compost the plants that had not survived the fight when Marcia coughed politely.
“Consort.”
“You wanted to see me?” Elena could read the hesitation in Marcia’s posture.
“I’m not entirely sure that there is a problem…”
“But?”
“I noticed something recently that was.. Odd. We get to know our regulars, particularly those with the blood stamps, since they tend to come on a pretty regular schedule. It’s well, not uncommon, for vampires to prefer to remain anonymous, and as long as the paperwork matches with their account, we let them be.” As much as Elena tried to reduce barriers, fighting the stigma that came with accepting assistance would be a long battle. She wasn’t surprised to learn that some of their recipients chose to keep their anonymity as far as possible.
“We don’t get many human customers, much less a teenager, but he has a faint sense of power to him. I assumed his father was a vampire strong for his age or for whatever reason the kid ended up with an extra strength dose. I don’t think he said anything specific, but I got the sense that the immortality might come from both sides, as if his mother was also the product of a vampire-human relationship.” Marcia paused. “Now that I think about it, I’m not even sure how I got that impression.”
Vampires rarely fathered children, and their fertility vanished around the 200 year mark, but it was possible. Elena’s mother had been the product of one such union and Raphael told her that the marks were noticeable in her own blood, once he knew what he was looking for. Some mortal families had multiple vampiric members, with angels maintaining close ties over the centuries. Elena didn’t know if the child of a vampire-human pairing had ever gone on to have children with a vampire themselves, but it seemed possible.
“He’s around 14-16, British, introduced himself as Alex. There are plenty of people who simply flash the app and then walk off. He seemed… I don’t know, a bit lonely. Funny too. I always kept an eye out for him, but he made the whole thing seem so reasonable. Plus he was registered as a designated pickup on the account.” Elena gave her space as she ordered her thoughts.
“I’ve seen him outside the shop occasionally, usually playing football in the park or biking. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, he just looked like a normal kid.” She gathered herself and looked Elena in the eye, coming to the crux of the conversation. “It was a complete accident, and as far as I know he doesn’t know what I saw. He was one of the last customers of the day and kinda on edge about it. Didn’t stay to chat. I had a date that night, so I let one of the others close up. I was in a bit of a hurry, so I was ducking through an alley when I saw him.”
“He was drinking the blood, Elena. You’ve seen how vamps can just guzzle it down when it’s been a while between feeds. When I saw him it was like some veil fell off and ever since I can’t imagine how I ever thought he was human. It wasn’t natural, it was like he has some ability to mask himself.” Elena could feel the edge of fear in the woman’s voice. “Elena, I’ve seen him playing with children. I’ve never heard of anyone so young surviving the change. I don’t mean to intrude and I’m sure that he must have a story.” Elena’s mind raced. There were strict regulations on turning vampires, laws etched in blood. Prior to the invention of blood testing, only one in ten humans had survived the change, a brutal necessity for the survival of the angelic race.
It was also fact that humans needed to reach a certain level of maturity to survive the change with their sanity intact. Children did not survive, dying in agonized madness. For the past few hundred years, the Cadre of Ten, the ruling archangels, had forbidden the changing of any humans under the age of 25, but by the nature of immortality, there were still younger appearing vamps floating around. But not many. The life of an immortal was brutal, and it sickened Elena to consider the predators likely to take interest in a youthful face with an immortal’s durability.
Dahariel, Aastad’s second and a known sadist, had secured the contract of one such vampire, a boy turned more than half a millenia ago, barely past the cusp of manhood. Apparently he kept the boy caged for his private amusements. The vampire was one of, if not the, youngest Elena had heard survive the change.
There was also a secondary danger. An innocent, earnest, face could mask the most hideous of crimes. Charisemnon, the archangel of North Africa, had held the appearance of a man in his early twenties for millenia. He had convinced the mortals of his territory that to send their children, girls as young as thirteen, to his bed was an honor. It was an inviolable law that Archangels had sole dominion over and set the laws of their territories. It was also no grief to Elena that she and Raphael were now in open war with the immortal.
Marcia mistook Elena’s contemplation for annoyance and hastily continued.
“I know that it’s none of my business, but the whole thing struck me as odd enough to pass along the information. It’s not usual for older vamps to use the stamps, and his appearance was so distinct I was surprised I hadn’t heard of his arrival to the city. It’s actually why I wanted to speak in person. I submitted a report using the system Dimitri arranged, but it’s like the requests have just disappeared.
“I don’t expect to be kept updated after I pass along information, but when I enter data into the system it’ll either provide a basic profile on possible hits or redirect me to the access denied page. Here it was like my requests didn’t even exist. I haven’t seen anything like it. If there are some added layers of protection around this vamp, I won’t press any further, but I wanted to make sure there wasn’t something more serious going on.” The report disturbed Elena. If there was an issue with the classified information network archives and a strange vamp running around the city, it could signal a catastrophic breach of security.
Elena reached out telepathically to her Archangel, explaining the situation and, with Marcia’s assistance, providing a description of the vampire.
I have never heard of a vampire surviving the change so young, and the description is unfamiliar to me. I will contact my mother to see if she has ever heard of such. Caliane was an Ancient. If there were any angel awake in the world who might recall stories of a vampiric youth, it would be Caliane.
The results were disappointing, but unsurprising. The only vampiric youth of which I am aware is your Naasir, and I did not see him in his childhood. Naasir was not truly a vampire, although it was the closest term used to describe him. Even Elena still didn’t know what Naasir’s origin had been. He referred to himself as a One Being, and laughingly refused to elaborate.
What Elena did know was that the man had arrived at the refuge as a young child possessing inhuman speed and a need to consume blood. And although brokenhearted plans had been arranged to handle the physical and emotional needs of a child trapped in stasis, it was with relief that Raphael and Dimitri watched Naasir slowly grow, stabilizing at his current age after a little more than a century. The growth had been slow enough that Naasir had been able to grow up in tandem with his angelic classmates, and Elena knew that he still maintained many of those childhood friendships to this day.
Naasir’s making was an act of true evil, hebibti. If someone has been experimenting with such powers, the Cadre will need to be informed. We also need to consider if this is a newly developed power for illusion or an experimental surgical technique. While such a development would require an enormous pivot in their surveillance structure, it was still the better possibility.
As Elena broke off contact with Raphael, she offered Marcia a smile. “Thank you for passing along the information. We’ll look into it.” The young vampire nodded, registering the dismissal, the exchange between the Tower and one of its people, rather than between Elena and Marcia.
This is a task suited to Janvier and your Ashblade. said Raphael. If possible, I would spare Dimitri. Although Dimitri was Raphael’s second, a wickedly powerful vampire that commanded the city’s immortal population, he was also a man with history. Dimitri had been forced to execute his own son after a sociopathic and covetous angel had forced him to watch as his too young child went mad with the change. The bitch was long dead, but Elena knew that Dimitri would never forget cradling his boy’s broken body in his arms.
Ashwini, otherwise known as Ash or Ashblade, was still an infant in immortal terms, only a few years past her making, but she had been a hunter going toe to toe with vamps for far longer. Janvier was older and had early signs of one day becoming a power. They were both training hard under Jason, Raphael’s spymaster, and were trusted enough to handle any information they discovered with care.
They were turning into a lethal team of spies, while maintaining the ability to fly under the radar. The members of Raphael’s Seven were powers, but that power radiated out of them in ways that made covert work an impossibility. While Jason’s midnight wings allowed him to fly unnoticed across the world, such scouting was different than the type of reconnaissance this task would accomplish. The last thing the Tower needed was for the target to spook.
If his youth was a product of either illusion or surgery, this was likely their only chance at capture. If he disappeared, there would be no way to track him. If, on the other hand, he truly was as young as he appeared then there was likely a depth of madness and rage buried under the surface. And that madness had the potential to soak their territory in the blood of its children.
Janvier lounged like a jungle cat in one of Blood For Less’s cushioned booths. When Blood For Less had first opened, the cafe had styled itself after the mortal breweries, with open setting, a large blackboard with a taplist, and a giftshop. Patrons could sample various flavors and then bring home a growler or a six pack of their favorite brew. They had recently opened up a small restaurant area where patrons could chat and enjoy their meals with friends. It was styled after a 1950s dinner, staffed by inhumanly agile vamps in roller skates, and served food and milkshakes, both of the blood and human safe variety.
It was a fun place to take a date or celebrate an occasion with mixed groups of humans and vampires.
When their waiter appeared to take their order, he’d given Janvier a wink, far too quickly for mortal eyes to detect. The last time Janvier had seen the more than two thousand year old vampire, he’d been expertly slicing through waves of reborn while commanding the ground troops of Raphael’s Memphis stronghold. The time before that he’d waved at Janvier across a crowded street in New Orleans wearing, as far as Janvier had been able to discern at the time, nothing but body paint and strategically draped beads.
Janvier knew that his Ashblade would be thrilled to one day meet the older immortal, but for now he gave the man a subtle hand signal that he was on duty.
Janvier savored the way Ashwini’s eyes flicked open in delight as she took the first pull on her raspberry blood slushie. For this portion of the assignment, neither Ashwini or Janvier were in disguise. They were exactly as they appeared, a senior tower vampire out on a date with an intriguing woman. Stories of Ashwini’s unusual prophetic talents had spread throughout the city, and her friendship with Elena was well known, but she was still a baby in immortal terms. His own power was subtle, his reputation more for smooth talking and relying on connections rather than physical strength. He was a naturally laid back person and he knew there were rumors floating around that he was simply enjoying a few years playing boy-toy to a spoiled tower favorite, a woman indulged not for her skill, but for nepotism and an amusing party-trick. They were rumors he wholeheartedly encouraged, and he shared a secret smile with his beloved as he indulgently fed her a few berries.
Put together, he and Ashwini appeared a tempting vulnerability for anyone wishing to infiltrate the Tower’s senior structure. Since their target appeared to be friendly, often making casual conversation when picking up his drinks, they had decided to offer him the opportunity to make contact, timing their meal so that they’d finish up their drinks and make their way over to the retail side of the shop after his arrival. It would give their target plenty of time to get eyes on them and hopefully reduce the chances of spooking him.
Although they were able to get a good idea of his typical pickup schedule from Marcia, they still didn’t have any clean visuals. Vivek, the Tower’s resident computer genius, had attempted to stalk their target through the city’s various cameras, but he was proving frustratingly difficult to track.
“I back track him from when he arrives, but it’s like he pops into frame a few blocks from Blood For Less and then vanishes a few blocks after he leaves. The day Marcia spotted him, it looked like he’d been hit in the head by a rogue soccer ball. He moves off screen before removing his hood, we have no cameras pointed at the park, and I never catch him leaving. This vamp is a ghost.” Vivek’s frustration had been clear and the man was already running himself ragged chasing down their possible computer breach.
It was just one more indicator that this vamp was a serious player. In this initial meet, Janvier hoped to simply get a sense of the kid’s power levels and see if he reacted to their dangling bait. It was also possible Ashwini would pick something up, but her ability was erratic to the extreme. Sometimes it was incredibly specific, but more often she didn’t even realize it was happening. She’d simply hand a hunter one extra throwing knife as they were leaving for a hunt or absentmindedly inform Jason that a particular sky route was giving her ‘bad vibes’. Those counted among her friends had learned early on to take her warnings and spontaneous gifts seriously.
They had been sitting there for about half an hour when their target stepped through the doorway, jingling the bell. Janvier wasn’t looking at the door. He had pre-arranged a call button with Marcia, and could his small receiver vibrate against his skin.The system was simple, but it allowed Ashwini to subtly begin polishing off her drink while he started sending out the vague verbal cues indicating they were wrapping things up. As he did so, he didn’t feel a second buzz, which would have indicated the target’s departure.
After a few minutes of shuffling, Janvier held out his hand to Ashwini and the two turned towards the pay counter, getting the first glimpse of their target.
The teen was nearing six foot, but lean, still filling into his height. Janvier could actually feel the moment when his vision adjusted and allowed him to pick up the subtle vampiric characteristics. There was definitely some kind of power at work there, because Janvier knew for dead certain that he, Marcia, and Ashwini were the only people in the building with the slightest clue that the kid was anything other than human.
The teen was learning against the pay counter, casually chatting through the new and rotating options with some of the other customers when Janvier and Ash approached. Janvier was surprised to see the teen react, stiffening slightly before resuming his relaxed posture. That wasn’t quite the reaction Janvier expected, but he could roll with it. By unspoken agreement, Ash turned to a young couple on their left, asking if either of them had tried the new horchata blend.
“Chelsea, huh?” Said Janvier, nodding at Alex’s sweatshirt. “My niece is a huge fan.” Although his niece was more like a grand niece with a few greats thrown in there, she was a diehard fan. Janvier made an effort to keep in contact with his sisters’ descendants and, although the losses were painful, the relationships he built were worth it. Privately, Janvier admired the mortals’ fearless resiliency. Even with Archangels plunging the world into war, the mortals had refused to let life be put on hold. “What do you think about their choice for new manager?” The question seemed to catch Alex off guard, but after a few targeted follow up questions, the teen seemed to gain energy with the discussion.
Janvier used the casual conversation as an opportunity to assess the other vampire. After that first click where his mind shifted, he hadn’t sensed any other changes in the vampire’s aura. He felt like a very fresh vamp, but that could be another layer to his illusion. His conversational style matched that of Janvier’s younger relatives. Immortals saw time differently, and might mention events and games decades past as if they had occurred earlier in the season. Alex’s focus, by contrast, was much more on the here and now.
After a few minutes of casual conversation, Janvier decided to push things.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten my manners,”