"We can't let him go around like this anymore."
A hooded man looked up and fought the urge to rub his eyes of sleep. He had been at this boring ass job of advising for the higher ups for almost a century now and every time, the subject of one noble or another would come up and how horrible it was that they didn't have any heirs, they were single, they were making bad choices in their too long lives- blah blah blah.
Deimon was getting tired of it all and was starting to crave more than just standing in a circle all day in an itchy hooded cape and talking about other people's problems. The last time he checked, they were fully capable of managing their own lives. But, he couldn't very well actually suggest that maybe everyone should find something better to do with their time than gossip like clucking old hens. They might actually die on the spot, some were so married to the job.
So, once again, Deimon was going to have to listen to yet another noble not marrying soon enough for the clucking hens' liking.
"Indeed. He has not given an heir and it has gone on long enough."
Deimon fought the urge to snort. Larry always was one for the dramatics and had leaped gleefully into this new job, which screamed dramatic and important.
"Yes, we must find him a mate." One agreed.
"Or at the very least, a suitable breeder." The guy on his right suggested with what could be described as the undertones of an evil snicker. Bastard probably fucked... never mind.
He narrowed his eyes. Deimon may have been born a vampire, but he sure as hell didn't see humans like cows, meant to be eaten and done with however he wished. Maybe the occasional lay, the quick bite, but humans were hardly some toy to be used a whim. They did have lives of their own after all.
Some more productive than these guys.
"Well, then gentlemen," the elder began.
Deimon stiffened into a suitable pose of dramatic tension.
"It seems we must find then a mother for-"
"How 'bout Heather?" Deimon suggested cheerfully.
The room was silent. Of course, the room was always silent, since it was nothing more than a stone dungeon built in a circle with torches dripping hot wax on yet, more stone floors. Within the center in a complicated pattern were the thirteen men (no women wanted to apply for such a boring job and Deimon had a healthy respect for the intelligence of women after noticing that they thought standing in a circle all day in itchy robes was not for them) and yet, more candles - because electricity certainly was beyond their reach.
The whole room screamed of Charmed and Buffy.
One robe coughed.
Deimon smirked to himself, knowing that the amount of respect the current occupants had for him was close to nil, not only for daring to be young and caught up in modern times, but actually having the audacity not to bow and scrape at the elders' feet.
"Heather would not be suitable, not only for her -- ahem, current mated state, but we have cause to believe that," he paused delicately.
"That?" he drawled. Here it comes.
"...she would not be true to him." he coughed.
Deimon snorted. "You said you wanted a breeder, not a marriage contract full of love and fidelity."
"True, but if she isn't true to him, then how will we know the child is his?" Another robe reasoned.
"When he starts chomping down on the nurse, of course."
"Deimon," warned the eldest.
He glared at the room. "Honestly, do none of you keep tabs on the guy? He just boned a girl silly and is wandering around the place mopey as all hell since she dumped his ass. Find that one and dump her in his bed - I'm sure she'll be fine with it eventually."
"He did what?"
Deimon ripped off his hood and glared at everyone through bright blue eyes.
"If you're going to worry about his single status, try to keep tabs on him next time. Find the girl and dump some other breeder in there. We'll see who he chooses. But for now - I'm going to go actually do something worthwhile rather than sit around here."
* * *
Alice regarded the fan overhead and contemplated cleaning the dust off the edges, which were obviously building up enough to spill over any time and make confetti jealous with their zealousness. She gave a wry sigh and turned over on the bed, stretching with a groan and relaxing again, scratching at her arm. What was wrong with her? She clenched and unclenched a fist, staring at it. She had made her decision, that she just needed a one night stand with a crazy man to make her reconsider breeding and that had done just the job. The future to her now looked quite grim and thankfully, baby-less. Unfortunately, the future also didn't have any bright green eyes or husky chuckles in-between bouts of intense lovemaking or warm olive skin glistening with sweat as it slipped against her cooling skin and-
"Damnit!" she swore, sitting up suddenly, tossing a pillow across the room with frustration. It had been two days! Two whole days and she was stuck in a rut she had no idea how to crawl out of. She sighed and dragged a hand through her hair before crawling out of the unmade bed, making her glance back at the sheets dispassionately.
Normally, she would make her bed first thing in the morning before going for her morning run around the lake, then work, but what was the point now? It was only going to get messed up again. She turned away and walked across the bedroom to collect the abused pillow and tossed it back on the bed, watching in teeter totter precariously at the edge before gleefully landing on the floor with a flop. With a sigh of disgust, she ignored it and went to the bathroom. A quick trip to the toilet and a thorough washing of her hands later, she paused and wryly glanced up into the mirror, not at all liking what she was seeing.
Somehow, her hair had lost its shine and her skin wasn't glowing. In fact, it looked rather sallow and contrasted quite nicely with the dark circles under her bloodshot eyes. She leaned closer, having not bothered with glasses or contacts and examined herself closer. Yep, the toll of no sleep was being unusually harsh on her if a new patch of zits on her chin had anything to say. She dropped her head and looked up, hoping to see something better. No dice. She lowered an eyelid and noticed the bloodshot look carried all the way around her eye. With another sigh of disgust, she quickly washed her face for the first time in two days and patted dry with a towel before drawing back sharply with a gag. Definitely had to do laundry if her towel had anything to say about the matter with a funk like that.
She took a delicate sniff of the towel and proceeded to sniff her shirt before wrinkling her nose. Had to do laundry now. Then take a shower. Grabbing every last piece of fabric and tossing it into the basket that was now towering with smelly, dirty clothes, she quickly stormed into the laundry room, tossed everything in (of course after separating the darks, whites and colors) of upmost importance and started the washer before rushing into the shower.
Alice stared at the shower head blankly and looked down at her body before slowly and cautiously cupping her belly. She often found herself doing this before bed and when waking up, almost like the newly formed habit was a talisman and a means of relieving stress. Curse that handsome man for hitting that one button that would turn off the alarm on her biological alarm clock! While she had been thinking of it for the past couple months (okay, years), he seemed to make it that much more real for her.
Her eyes began to water. His children would be so beautiful with eyes like that. Why did he have to be crazy and do magic tricks just to get out of a stick situation like the morning after? She would have left without a fuss, but it hurt a lot when a guy would resort to such trickery just to get her out of his apartment. She hadn't felt so humiliated since when her prom date didn't show up and left on her family's voice mail his so called excuse (read: Tammy Schnider with the bigger cans who put out) why he couldn't go with her. Feeling her eyes itch and the water start to run cool, she quickly washed off and turned off the shower, stepping out and pausing at the door. No towels. Duh.
Grabbing a robe, and hoping that she wouldn't catch a cold, she sullenly dragged her feet back up the stairs to her bedroom and halted at the door.
A very handsome man, dressed all in black, from his leather boots to his faded denim jeans to his long sleeved graphic tee, sat at the edge of her bed, jingling his leg restlessly until she stepped in. His eyes were a bright blue, almost blindingly bright while his hair was jet black and short but for wisps and layers that fell around his eyes and pointed ears.
Wait, pointed ears-
"Who-"
The man suddenly stood up to a very tall height and swept a graceful bow, making her note that he was wearing a cloak. How --
odd.
"Greetings milady. I would be the vampire Deimon, advisor and all around snoop to the great and mighty Douglass Conan. You know, the guy you schtupped two days ago?"
He gave her a quick leer.
"How do you- Wait. What's schtupped?"
He grinned and she noted he had strange, simple marks underneath his eyes at the top of his cheeks, dark red and somehow, it suited him.
"Boffed, boned, screwed, shagged, beat, tupped, boinked, knocked shoes with, and my old favorite, fuc-"
"Okay, okay, I get it! What are you doing here and how do you know this?"
He shrugged and began to roam around her bedroom, picking up trinkets and picture frames of family and friends. She waited and he picked up another trinket, examining it thoroughly. Opening her mouth, she closed it when he put it down and picked up her brush, an heirloom from her grandmother almost instantaneously. He plucked a hair from the brush, examined it with a careful scrutiny that was at odds with his gothic, ill-kept appearance and shrugged before answering.
"We've been keeping tabs on Douglas for awhile. At least, I have. My coworkers," he snorted. "Claim to know every last thing he does or has, right down to the number of nose hairs he has. By the way, the right one has 1,982 while the left has 1,863."
She stared and he sighed dramatically before picking up a snow globe from Heather's last trip to Hawaii. He shook it and watched the flakes fall around the snow man (or sand man in this case) with interest.
"What I'm trying to say, through my clumsy eccentrics, is that Douglas has always been easy to track because he hardly does anything. He sits around, solves problems for people, sends them on their way and has a meal or two in-between before going to bed. Wash and repeat. The man has eternal youth and immortality and what does he do? Acts like a predictable, tired old man. He's had quite a run, but the guy -- ah, well," he gave an apologetic smile, setting the globe down precisely back where he found it before sitting in a tiny old chair that had been rescued from a charity resale shop a couple years ago. He spread out his hands and rested his chin in them, leaning forward with a curious frown. "Douglas is tired. Too tired for his own good and that worries me. I've known the guy for the past four centuries and the point he has reached makes me and my coworkers wonder if the guy is ready to check out for good. So to speak."
Alice gripped her robe tight together at the neck, wondering where this was leading. Unfortunately, she had a clue and it seemed like the joke wasn't over yet or it just may be the real thing. She didn't know which one she dreaded more.
