A cold rain fell in the great sluggish river and rooftops of Budapest turning them to gleaming black masses like the backs of immense beetles under the amber lights. Among these sleek boxes walked a woman in a long black coat that glistened with rain. The face rimmed by her shiny red hair was youthful yet severe, pouting with indignation at the weather and the hands stuffed into her coat pockets toyed with slim silver knives. Hunting was the only thing worth venturing out for on a night like this and even that was quickly proving futile. A man's voice crackled over her ear-piece just as she stopped to comb the water from her hair.
"Velle, give your position and report."
Velle sighed and flicked the switch of the throat mike to on.
"I'm just up Belgrad Rakpart coming onto Erzsebet Hid by the waterfront. No action out here whatsoever and I'm soaked to the skin."
"No noise from the others either," came the unsympathetic reply from her team-mate, Assad, "Rendezvous with Droz and Markus at the intersection of Arany Janos and Nador as soon as possible."
"Roger," she muttered shoving her hands back into the coat pockets again and slitting the tip of her finger on one of her prize knives. It healed practically instantly but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. Silver blades were dangerous things for someone like her, any vampire really,to use. Sucking her finger until it stopped bleeding, she rounded the corner of the intersection and saw the other two waiting. Her immense muscle-bound Droz looking hopelessly but defiantly out of place armed to the teeth with tattoos covering the lower half of his face and tall, lanky Markus who raised his eyebrows and folded his arms at her, wet pink curls of hair partly obscuring his vision.
"Nothing by the waterfront?" Markus questioned her as soon as she was within earshot.
She walked to Droz and stood with him as she replied,
"Silent as a grave. A few drunk guys coming across the bridge and the odd tramp asleep in a doorway but other than that it was all rain and Assad 'reassessing the situation' every three minutes."
"The rod up that man's arse has a rod up it's arse, I swear," Markus muttered, "Reckon I'm just going to go along with Drago and switch off my comm link and say it's a tech fault."
Droz laughed a little bitterly.
"Nya'll have your head."
"Bitch doesn't scare me, she's just Vespers' little Princess. Doesn't belong in a squad of big men like us."
"Perhaps not, but I have been placed in command nonetheless," came the voice from behind him. Nya stood coolly reloading her berettas and looking completely unconcerned about the weather. "And Markus? That 'tech fault' excuse nearly got Meng killed 7 months ago. You remember? Rome. Werewolves. A call for back up that went unheard. Don't even think about it or you'll be lucky if it's just your head I'll have."
Markus scowled but was and Paco came into sight swaggering across the street, their guns and clips in full view. Assad and Meng joined them last and the squad was reunited.
"It seems Budapest is clear." Assad said. "We've seen neither sight nor sign of the Halfbreed and there are none of the usual signs that he's even been here."
Nya shook her head.
"There was some sign. This place is very low on other vampires. For a city this size that's most abnormal."
"So what?"Drago scoffed, "Makes our job that much easier without all them new bloods scurrying in the way. Pah. Wannabes."
"Nya's right," replied Assad deliberately ignoring Drago's comment. "I say we track down the largest coven in the area and find out what's going on."
"So now we're the fucking vampire social workers?" asked Drago, nettled by Assad's indifference.
"We're getting nowhere with simply patrolling," Nya put in, "It's in our orders to track down the Halfbreed no matter what it takes. If we have to resort to manipulating the human Intelligence to find him then we will."
She was dead-set on her mission, the others could see this. It was going to be a long night. Markus snorted.
"Human Intelligence. Now there's a pretty contradiction in terms for you."
Ignoring this, they all set off, eight pairs of metal plated boots slamming the concrete pavements of the Hungarian capital, eight pairs of smooth immortal hands locked around weapons ready to kill any quarry that presented itself.
***
The nearest Coven house of any great size lay on a broad boulevard, a vast dark house with every Gothic architectural clichΓ© imaginable carved onto its sandstone facade. Through grotesque stained glass windows candle light glowed and gargoyles leered from every flat surface. It was unmistakably a vampire coven house. Security cameras watched them from all angles from the moment they neared the gate. Not being one to waste any time on pleasantries, Drago marched up to the great studded oak door and banged on it with his fist. The others reluctantly followed and stood before it, weapons at the ready. A fellow vampire could easily be as much of a threat as an enemy if identities got confused. The door opened and a tall, heavy man with sleek blonde hair and a deep purple velvet suit looked them all over. A mortal familiar. He wrinkled his nose taking in their wet garments and unfriendly expressions. And the sheer size of Droz, Paco and Drago.
"Jo ejszakat?"
Drago snorted and said, "Well that's a hell of a thing. Who would have thought the Hungarian familiars would speak only Hungarian? Imagine my surprise..."
Nya rolled her eyes and asked the others,
"Do any of you speak Hungarian?"
The answer seemed to be a unanimous no. Droz spoke up. "I know a little."
He stepped up to the door and said in flawless Hungarian,
"Nem ertem Magyar, beszel Angolul?"
The man smirked and nodded.
"Igen. I speak English. You wish to speak to my Master here? Please enter"
The Night Hunters collectively glowered.
"You understood what we were saying?" asked Drago, clenching his fists. "Then why didn't you speak up before, shit head?"
The man suppressed laughter.
"In my position, Mien Herr, would you?"
In answer, the man got his first punch to the jaw by a large immortal wearing steel knuckle-dusters.
"Hope you bleed all over that stupid suit," he muttered following the others inside.
The interior of the house followed the same pattern as the outside, anything that could be carved, patterned, covered in velvet or embroidered was. They made their way to an immense elaborate ballroom where most of the coven lounged about dressed in velvet or drank delicately warmed blood from high crystal glasses. Someone played the Waldstein Sonata on a grand piano in the corner. The Night Hunters with their weapons and dripping hair were out of place and unwelcome. It nettled each of them that this decadent party was the sole occupation of the upper class of their species. The Master of the Coven was an immense fat man with dark curls of hair and an expression that implied a lot of smugness and not much intelligence. He greeted them like a king greeting old friends to his court. Bustling up to them swathed in green velvet with a little blood around his lips, he shook the hand of a rather bemused Assad and attempted to kiss Nya on both cheeks. She poked the end of one beratta into his ribs.
"We need to speak to you about the disappearance of vampires in this area recently. Your co-operation with our investigation would be appreciated more than your cordiality."
A shrewd expression came into the fat vampire's face and for the first time he showed signs of intelligence. Ushering them over to seats, his eyes wandered over them disbelievingly.
"You are Vespers' famed 'Secret Police' I assume. The Night Hunters. We have only heard stories and rumors of you, the greatest mercenaries from the ranks of the Children of the Night chosen by Vesper to fight our deadliest enemy. It is an honor to welcome you to my home. Please call me Stefan."
Nya nodded and the others looked faintly proud. They had a reputation already. And not a bad one apparently.
"As Nya has said, Herr Stefan, it is your help rather than your hospitality Lord Vesper would value at this moment," Assad replied rather curtly.
"The rest of us wouldn't mind a bit of both, pal," Drago grunted.
Nya glared at him but raised no objection as Stefan summoned towels, glasses of blood and attendants for them. They moved to a smaller parlor and took up more comfortable positions, slouched over chairs and sofas and, in Velle's case, over Droz's broad shoulders.
"Now," Nya began when they were all comfortable, "What can you tell us about action in the area over the last two weeks?"
"My Coven have lost none, but another Coven Master in the city, Julian, has had a blood bank decimated and all those inside vanished without a trace even the humans."
"Without a trace?" said Nya.
"Not entirely without a trace, there was blood everywhere."
"Sounds fairly normal for a blood bank to me." Drago cut in.
"By 'everywhere' I mean all over the walls, the floor, the few corpses left and their discarded possessions."
"And the security cameras?" Nya asked.