THE RAIN HAS BEGUN AGAIN. The lounge is a private building of red brick on a corner of Ninth Street. He doesn't make it a habit to linger in the Night District beyond what is necessary. It's fancier than the crowded nightclub and questionable businesses only a few streets down.

He's fairly certain the inconspicuous building of black brick that he walks past to reach the steps leading up to the lounge's entry door is a front for some sort of business dealing in debauchery. He caught a glimpse of a man and woman on his arm entering from an alleyway. She was dressed quite skimpily, even with the chill of the evening and the freezing rain faintly pattering the pavement.

As he ascends the stone steps, his phone vibrates in his jacket pocket. He opens the door at the same time that he takes out the device. A notification that says, Gianna, is taking up the screen, and he taps the screen to open the message, stepping inside. 

The warmth of the building's interior wafts against his cold skin from the short walk from where he'd parked his car a street over.

He's never frequented a lounge. It's a nice place. Tasteful orange lighting. Crimson carpeting throughout, olive-green wallpaper, and dark wood half panels. There's a hallway up ahead that veers to the left, and past that, he can see that there's a larger room with seating, low partitions to create an air of privacy, and a bar. Just like the nightclubs he's passed on the way here, the late hour has filled this place with men and women dressed in evening wear. Most of them are vampires. He can sense his kind. There are a few humans.

He lingers in the foyer near a potted plant of thick leaves that nearly towers to his height and focuses on his phone.

Gianna has texted him sporadically since she left the hotel room, asking him to kill Dallas. She asked for him to allow her to kill Dallas. She even offered to ride him until he needed a hip replacement.

He ignored them all.

Gianna's message reads: I'm in place. Bastard will want a private room. Make sure it's the one with the big ass window facing the street.

His arrival has drawn attention, so he doesn't have time to answer beyond quickly tapping the recent emoticons as a reply and sending a thumbs up.

He stuffs his phone into his pocket and stares stoically at a man with slick-backed hair who's sauntered up to him with a fraudulent smile.

The man smooths a palm down his perfectly pressed black shirt. His brown eyes look at Kiernan's attire, and he doesn't seem impressed, his smile straining slightly. "Good evening."

Kiernan doesn't blame the reaction, nor does he care. He hadn't tried purposefully, because frankly, the thought of dressing nicely for a meeting with Dallas makes him want to die.

He's kept casual, in his dark jacket that can hide the bulk of the gun he has holstered to his lower back, his jeans, and a button-up black shirt that costs him more than he'd like to admit.

"Your name, sir?"

"Kiernan Moreno."

"Oh, yes!" The man's smile widens, just as fake, but with a twinge of fear that twitches the edges and fills the air with the spice of his vulnerability. "You're expected." He gestures to the hallway. "Just down there, if you will. The door is at the far end, to the right."

He peers down the hallway. There are flanking, closed oak doors all the way to the end. He sees the door in question, and it's facing the wrong way. It'll put him in a room without any windows. He'd bet the deed to his house that there are enough men inside to overtake him and placate Dallas's foolish pride.

He turns back to the man who's watching him warily. "I'll take a room with a window facing the street."

"Sir, I..." The man swallows. He seems to find a semblance of intelligence under the scrutiny of Kiernan's cold glare because he bows his head slightly and smiles shakily. "I'll inform Dallas that you'll be waiting in room three, sir."

"Tell him I expect him to come alone."

"Right away, sir."

The room has a sectional couch of glossy brown leather that takes up the lower space of two dark wood-panelled walls. The small chandelier above spills warm light. There's a large square table that takes up much of the meagre floor space, low enough for knees to bump the filigreed edging. This is not a place he'd choose to hold a meeting. It's too cramped.

He's taken a strategic position on the couch with his back to the large casement window after opening the black drapes wide. The lights are low enough to not give anyone on the street a full glimpse of the room's inhabitants.

He drapes an arm over the wide back of the couch and dares a casual glance at the window and the buildings across. There's a good chance there are cameras in here, so he feigns boredom.

There's a wine store, but its roof is flat and conspicuous. 

There's a high building with a pair of closed shops, street-level, and luxury apartments above. That could work. From his vantage point, he can't see anything on the roof past the rain and shadows, except for the outline of a rather large ventilation unit.

His phone vibrates. He knows who it will be before he takes it from his pocket.

I could kill you right now. But lucky for you, you're looking too sexy for a bullet.

He doesn't answer, sending a glare out the window, and immediately receives messages in quick succession.

I caught sight of Dallas in the adjacent room. He's not happy. Red faced. Funny as hell.

You totally stepped on his balls.

He hit the shit out of that waiter who greeted you.

There's a lull between texts, but before he can reply, because Gianna apparently types at lightning speed, his phone vibrates again.

He's coming.

Another.

I've got you.

Kiernan shoves his phone back into his jacket. He forces his posture to take on practiced casualness, keeping his arm on the back of the couch, and lifts his chin.

He can hear heavy footfalls approaching from down the hallway, and then the door opens. He nearly breaks his composure with a cocky grin when he sees that Gianna is right about the red face, but resists.

Dallas is a towering man, and he has enough natural bulk to nearly fill the doorway. He's used to people cowering at his approach. His black hair is styled immaculately. 

The vampire stuffs his hands into the pockets of his fitted black trousers, pulling the lapels of his grey suit jacket back, and the white shirt he wears underneath has its collar undone, giving a glimpse of a smooth chest and silver chain. 

Dallas's ice-blue eyes never leave Kiernan's face as he steps into the room.

"Good evening," Kiernan greets coolly. He can practically taste the animosity stirring in the air between them. His rapidly beating heart is thudding out of sync with Dallas's, which drums just as loudly.

Dallas kicks the door closed with the sole of his shoe. The wall shakes.

Then the vampire smiles brightly and shows why he's kept their coven from strife for over a decade in a city of cutthroats.

"Hey, boss." Dallas has a deep baritone voice that demands attention. "How is my city treating you?"

"Fine."

"No trouble?"

Kiernan would rather drown in a river of ice than hold small talk with this man. "Why am I here, Dallas? My patience is waning."

Dallas smiles wider. "I have some information that could help you." He takes his hands from his pockets before sauntering over and casually sitting close by, in the curve of the sectional.

The vampire spreads his legs wide, and his knee bumps Kiernan's thigh. "I'm being kind. A friend to a friend."

"Tell me." Kiernan tries to remain impartial to Dallas's knee, but his composure doesn't last, and he shifts his leg away. He nearly signals Gia to blow Dallas's head off at the dark grin the vampire gives at the show of vulnerability.

"You're always so..." Dallas says lowly. He drapes his arms over the back of the couch, giving Kiernan a once-over that has vivid fantasies of the man's grisly murder flashing through his mind. "Do you ever relax?"

"No."

"Never, boss?"

"The information. Now."

Dallas hums. "After, would you stay for a while? We could get to know each other."

Kiernan glares, and Dallas smiles wider.

The only thing Dallas wants to get to know is his position at Gabriel's side and his body in various positions of debauchery, most likely videotaped for blackmail.

He knows that hungry glint in Dallas's eyes and what it means for his well-being to be under such scrutiny. He'd be a fool to drink anything given by this man. Even taking blood would be risky. He wouldn't put it past Dallas to drug a human for a chance to get a leg over on him.

"It's only an offer," Dallas says, his deep voice rumbling. He sighs at Kiernan's glare. "I have an informant in the police. Human. He was very useful."

"Was?"

"He's dead. I would have sent you to him, but he was killed last month in a shootout." Dallas sits forward, elbows on his knees. The blue signet ring of their coven on his forefinger glints under the chandelier's low lighting. "See, there's something you have to understand, boss."

"And what is that?"

"I have a deal of sorts. Friendly terms." Dallas smiles, giving a glimpse of his fangs. "I assist the human police in the city with crimes that they'd otherwise not have the capacity to deal with. In turn, they help me by providing information I'd otherwise not be privy to without resorting to violence." His gaze darkens. "That deal only stays strong if we keep them in the loop."

"You're asking me to go to the human police and involve them in my investigation?" Kiernan scoffs. "Why would I care about your deal?"

Dallas sits back, glaring. "They have information. That's why. They've been investigating these attacks."

Kiernan averts his gaze. The last thing he wants to do is deal with the police, but he only has a few weeks before the gala. He'd be a fool to not exercise all possible avenues to catch the perpetrator.

"They have a new sergeant that knows about our kind." Dallas shifts, and once again, his knee grazes Kiernan's thigh. The vampire pretends to not notice the deadly glare he's receiving for his impudence. "Alexander Cross. He's been running the investigation. I've told him you're going to meet him tomorrow morning. Just a heads-up, he's an asshole."

"Where?"

Dallas cocks an eyebrow, clearly focused on his shoe that's rubbing Kiernan's ankle. If he held any intelligence in his thick head, he'd see that Kiernan's lack of movement is a warning, not an opening for him to continue.

"Where is the meeting, Dallas?"

"A park." Dallas shifts forward with a dark grin.

Kiernan follows the motion backwards. He might be older than Dallas by a large margin and thus stronger, heightened by Gabriel's blood he'd taken last night. But Dallas has a towering advantage in his height and bulk that could make a fight difficult. Especially in close quarters as they are.

Dallas continues, "The big one, a few blocks away from Gabriel's auction house." Imogen's auction house. "He said he'd be there around noon."

"I'll meet with him."

Dallas purrs, "Thanks, boss."

Kiernan averts his gaze, feeling the familiar overwhelm from dealing with volatile men like Dallas.

He begins to rise, but there's a large hand clamping heavily on his thigh. 

He looks at Dallas sharply.

He's met with the heart-stopping sight of Dallas and his giant form coming for him with blue eyes, nearly black, and a hungry grin.

The back of a hand cracks across his face.

Fuck.

He shakes his head to rid himself of the blackness in his vision. He's groggy, and his senses are slowly sharpening. He instinctively shoves at the weight, pinning him to the couch's deep cushioning.

He hears Dallas's baritone laugh from afar, his ears ringing.

He knows why Dallas is still alive, holding him down with a palm covering his mouth and nose, the other pressing down on his throat, effectively cutting off his air. They're out of view of the window, just below the framing.

Dallas growls, "You know how it works. Seize power, yeah? I'm so fucking sick of this city. I should be in Fawnhill. And there you are, Gabriel's second. Everything will be yours if he dies, and he just lets you prance around unguarded."

Kiernan grabs Dallas's wrist, trying to tug the palm away from his face, but he's growing weak, his lungs burning, and his fingers numb. He must have fallen unconscious. The pitiful struggling doesn't do anything except darken Dallas's gaze further.

Dallas leans closer and hot, eager breath that smells of alcohol fans Kiernan's cheek. "I'm not going to kill you." He nips at Kiernan's ear. "You'll be singing me praises after tonight. Don't worry, baby."

His fingers shake from lack of air and deep panic at the feeling of Dallas humping his thigh. He slides a hand between the couch and his lower back, forgoing the gun he's lying on uncomfortably.

He grabs the knife sheathed there instead.

He's not stupid. He foresaw an attack but hadn't thought Dallas would be so daring to try this with potential witnesses.

As his vision blackens, he shoves the entire four inches of blade into Dallas's flank. The vampire rears back with a strangled noise of pain.

He rips the knife free, warm blood dripping down his fingers.

He stabs Dallas in the thigh so deeply that some of the knife's hilt follows the blade in.

Dallas scrambles to sit up, cursing. Kiernan helps him along with a growling kick to his stomach.

There's a loud crack in the glass of the window.

Dallas falls back, gritting his teeth and clutching his chest. "Fucking, Gia! You bitch!" He shifts down, nearly off the couch, so he's not in view of the window.

He scoffs when Kiernan sits up with a deadly glare, rubbing at his throat. Dallas snarls, "Fuck you! It's the way of our world!"

Kiernan rises, resisting the tremble of his legs and forcing himself to stand steady. He takes his gun from its holster under his jacket and clicks the safety before pointing the barrel at Dallas.

He ignores Dallas cursing him and takes out his phone, hitting the call button.

The bullet has left a perfect hole in the thin glass. Fortunately, it looks like the shot didn't draw attention. There are no screams or telltale sounds of chaos.

It rings a few times and then goes through. From the other end, Gabriel says immediately, "No, Kiernan. I stand by what I said early this evening."

"He attacked me."

A pause. "Are you alright?"

No. "Yes."

"Then, no."

"Let me kill him."

"No."

"He attacked me, Gabriel."

A pause, longer than the last. "Brilliant! Fucking brilliant!" He growls, "Tell the fool to come to me. Tonight. I will deal with it."

Dallas pales, and it's not from blood loss. He grips the bloody hilt of the blade that's stuck in his thigh with shaking fingers but doesn't remove the weapon.

"Of course."

"You have an hour with him," Gabriel says sternly. "I want him alive, Kiernan." He pauses and then says, softer, "Are you...truly alright?"

"Yes."

"Call me tomorrow evening."

Kiernan doesn't bother with a goodbye, hanging up.

He tosses his phone onto the low table and nears, slapping Dallas's fingers away and gripping the hilt of the knife, tugging it out.

Dallas bites back a shout, cursing.

The vampire does shout when the knife is shoved into his shoulder.

"Look at me," Kiernan snarls, gripping Dallas's jaw with bloody fingers. "Gianna's off-limits. Put your hands on her, and I'll make you beg for death."

He growls at Dallas's glare and grabs the knife, ripping it free and shoving the sharp edge between Dallas's legs. The high noise of shock and pain the man makes stills his hand from emasculating the vampire entirely.

Dallas strangles, "Yes." He cries out when the knife is shoved harder. "Yes! Gia's off limits!"

Kiernan removes the knife. Dallas shuts his legs with a soft noise of distress. He takes his time to close the curtains and lock the door.

He bends over Dallas, sprawled on the couch, bleeding heavily. "I get you for a whole hour." He smirks and can see the delicious moment when the ice blue of the man's eyes darkens with fear. "Don't worry, baby, we'll get to know each other really well."

The quiet section of the park is admittedly pleasantly relaxing. There's a soft soughing of the wind through the trees. Across the expanse of mowed grass on the other side of the stone pathway, there's ripples of a cool breeze blowing over a pond of blue water.

There was a time when he would never feel the warmth of the sun.

Now, it's much more acceptable in vampire society to have a human schedule. Most vampires he knows personally still sleep during the day and are awake in the evening. Gabriel, for example, has never wavered on this. But when Kiernan has a choice on the matter, he enjoys the day even if he feels sluggish and slow, the vampire blood in his veins rebelling.

He'd received a text early this morning from an unknown number. The text simply told him to meet on a specific bench at the east end of the parkland at noon today. He'd arrived early to scout the area and realized quickly that the effort went to waste.

At this time and on a weekday, the park is full of people. He'd had to drive for longer than he'd like to find a parking spot. He ended up ultimately leaving his car a few blocks down and walking the rest of the way.

He hears the man's approach from the curve of the pathway that leads out of the park. The other way leads deeper into the forestry. He keeps his gaze on the pond, where a group of ducks dive beneath the water's surface.

There's a distinct sound that accompanies someone running or walking at a fast pace. This could simply be someone taking their time to enjoy the relaxing atmosphere. But he knows to follow his instincts. They've kept him alive for many years. And they're telling him that this person with a calm heartbeat who drops themselves onto the bench beside him is Alexander Cross.

Nothing is said.

Kiernan slowly looks to his left and to the man who's smirking at him cockily. Black hair, mussed, and deep brown eyes. He has an elbow resting on the back of the wooden bench, and his grey jacket pulls taut at his biceps. He's slouched casually, but if he stood, he'd be significantly taller. 

Maybe near Dallas's height.

He loathes the pang of unease that settles to churn his stomach at the thought of last night. He'd drank the blood the hotel provides this morning, and he has to resist vomiting onto the stone of the pathway at their feet.

Kiernan says coolly, "Alexander, I presume."

"Could be."

Kiernan looks off at the pond. A mallard duck is flapping its wings. "And I could be Kiernan Moreno."

He flinches at the large hand that suddenly lingers close to his face. He blinks dumbly for a moment before realizing what is being offered. He reluctantly takes hold of the man's fingers, and they shake hands.

He stares deep into the man's eyes, trying to see what he's hungering for. Most men are quite obvious in their wants, but he can't gain a read on anything except a flicker of smugness in the deep brown.

"I was just messing with you." The man grins. "Alexander Cross."

Kiernan forces an amicable smile. "It's a pleasure."

Alexander retakes his hand and retakes his casual posture, leaning heavily on his bent elbow that's resting against the back of the bench.

The man spreads his legs, knee-bumping Kiernan's thigh, but it's not a power trip like Dallas. He seems to have a hard time sitting without shifting slightly. It's mildly distracting.

"So," Alexander says. "I've had my guys looking into these attacks, the ones that know about all this, vampires and everything else."

"What information?"

"All in due time," Alexander says, sticking his hand into the pocket of his jacket and taking out a long piece of gum wrapped in foil. He takes his time unwrapping and shoving it into his mouth. "Let's go over everything we know tonight."

"Tonight?"

Alexander smiles. "Yeah. Tonight. I've been told by the big guy up top that we're partners until you're out of the city."

"Dallas?"

Kiernan wants to kick himself the moment he lets the name slip. Of course, it's not Dallas's order. The vampire is in Fawnhill, suffering whatever punishment Gabriel has concocted for stepping out of line. He won't be back for days.

"My boss," Alexander says, chewing his gum, "and your boss, Gabriel. They've got a deal going on. I don't really care about the particulars. I just follow orders, and I've been told to not let you out of my sight."

Kiernan looks back to the ducks in the water and mutters, "Fuck."

Alexander laughs. "Shit, dude. I'm not that bad."

There's no use answering because this man will not understand. He doesn't play nice with others. And if Alexander has been told to not let him out of his sight, that presumably means all hours. He hasn't held a person's presence for more than a day without breaks in decades. He'd like to keep it that way.

He flexes his fingers into fists to conceal their tremor.

Alexander rises from the bench and gives him a pinched look that he can't decipher. "Let's get to work." He pulls the sleeve of his jacket up to peer at the watch around his wrist. "They're probably ready for us by now."

Kiernan frowns. "Who?"

"That building on Richard Street. The one you guys use as a blood bank. It was attacked last night."

Kiernan rises from the bench abruptly. "I didn't hear about this."

The blood banks are owned by the Ashwood coven. That means three covens have officially been attacked. This could entice a war or the council to come in personally and seize power under the guise of protection. Gabriel would lose more than their coven can afford.

Alexander's eyes flash dark, and for a human, he's admittedly intimidating. "No, you didn't. We've kept it under wraps. Your kind has started a lot of shit since this began, and it'll just get worse every time information about a new attack gets out."

"That's not the deal."

The man grins at Kiernan's glare, flashing white teeth. "Maybe not, but you're with me now, partner. I'll keep you informed." He flicks his head down the path, turning away. "Come on. I'll walk slowly so you can keep up."

Kiernan glares at the man's departing back. He follows at a reluctantly slow pace and decides he loathes Alexander Cross.