2.

Music took order and possessed the hall, bringing all but the violinist to a halt, Brandenburg Concerto Number 1 in F Major, a bit too uplifting for the occasion some might think, just the piece others could argue. Vampires are creatures that crave savagery and beauty and the union of strings and shifting times found a way to quench their thirst for both.

Lindsey's eyes never ceased to be blue, he scanned those present with an unapologetic urge to see into their souls. Lucio had been kind to him, and although he had no dreams of glory, the vampire wanted to make sure that whoever filled the Prince's shoes would be worthy of the title.

He had known the Dancer for the longest, even before they had joined the Coven. A continent as magnificent as Africa had never been big enough for two of their kind. Introspection had become that vampire's calling card, and one could say that his greatest distinction had become his only vulnerability. So used he had become to body language instead of words, that the vampire was an open book.

When Lindsey looked into his eyes, he saw nothing other than the sway of music. The violinist had connected to a lost sliver of his soul and saw but the need to be taken far away by the notes and the shift of tempo. No surprise. One who has witnessed true power craves none.

'Who knows, who knows ... maybe that void needs to be filled.' Cara Mia tried to make the musician break his concentration, but the violinist kept steady, as the melody became a bit mournful, before catching up speed once more.

Damned, mad creature of the night. The uninitiated might believe her capable even of sorcery. She might have been deranged, but her observations were sharp. If anything, free of all constraints, she spoke to the madness within them all. Cara knew quite well what Lindsey was trying to do. He was testing their loyalty to Lucio; he'd force a response out of them. No one could lie to a dweller. Loyalty, now there is a thing ...

Adora stood behind Henry, improvising a song for the melody, trying to tame the strings with an element of Spanish cadence. Apart from it all, and at the same time, leaving her stamp upon it. She had the guts, no doubt. Long before being an immortal, she had been a child of rape and murder, and rivers of innocent blood. Her whole continent succumbed to a cry of war, and maybe, just maybe ... she had realized it was the time to stake her claim.

Then there was Henry. If blood could speak, Henry's would be even more eloquent and charming than its vessel. The vampire carried the history of generations gone, kings and princes in their own divine right. Could he make a ruler, or was he just the dead end, umbrageous and spiteful once the mask of gentleness slipped off his face? It was getting harder to keep his composure.

As the melody came to an end, Lindsey walked towards Calista, taking a bow.

'To the mistress of the house, I will ask openly, giving the first opportunity to answer. Is your kindness a peace offering or are you buying time under this roof trying to measure all of us against your achievements? I no doubt know your tears for Lucio to be genuine, but that doesn't mean you don't want to make a grab of power for yourself. Only you seem to know what ails him, after all. Tell us, Calista. What will we find when we get to his chambers?'

Calista couldn't help but part her lips.

'I ... I ....' her words cut short because the vampire in front of her stumbled.

She could feel Lindsey's power of summons free her, as the violinist lost all concentration. A soft cry replaced her words as the vampire collapsed and his beloved violin touched the floor.

'¡Qué carajos!' Adora rushed to the dweller's side as the other circled. One by one, they came to the realization that they were watching one of their own succumb to something as vulgar as death. 'Don't touch the violin, it's poisoned!' the vampire warned the Coven.

'It's ludicrous! He can surely come back from this. I don't see the need to be so dramatic!' Henry pursed his lips as soon as he uttered the words.

Lindsey's skin was growing ashen, and decay was setting in at a fast pace.

'Stop it!'... Adora had no time for questions. Death was evident. Her dark eyes pleaded to the dancer. 'This flesh will give. He has no host. Está perdido, lost to us. Oudeis, please!'

'Seal his Ka, his true being inside this rotting body. Send him back to his mistress. There are no gods for me to plead to. The realm of mirrors awaits him.' ... more words than he had uttered in a hundred years. And he found them not as dispassionate as he thought they would be.

Adora broke the seal of a small pouch that hung from her neck. The smell of cayenne and pink pepper was made evident. She sealed Lindsey's lips with a spice paste pronouncing his spirit bound to his mortal body.

'How convenient!' Calista couldn't help wailing. 'What else did you bring in your little woodlands burlap? Something exotic enough to kill the undead?'

'I will forgive you, because I'm under your roof, and because it's not my place to judge if your grief is real, lady Calista. All I know is you should show him the mercy of sending him back. Let Nueva Orleans set the course ...'

Cara Mia also cried, calmly at first, holding onto Henry who was accounting for motives among their peers in silence.

The delusional vampire started laughing in a frenzied manor as if possessed by something ... more than what already is. 'Ciao, Lindsey. If we live enough, we will see you in another face and another body. If we live, because who are we to deny, that if a Prince falls, the Kingdom is not also rendered to ashes?'

A fair point if all was open and clear ... if ...