"This should last you a month," Patrick handed the package containing several quarts of blood to the waiting Vampire. "If something unforeseen happens then you can come back for more."

Robert Larson took the parcel gratefully, "Thank you leader. And what should I do about the other matter?"

Retreating behind the great oak desk in his study, Patrick sat. He had heard much about this Abraham Stoker. An interesting character, Stoker's mind had somehow drawn conclusions about their race that most people overlooked. But now the man was asking questions...too many questions.

"With regards to Stoker, do nothing," Patrick said as he leaned back in his chair.

"But leader...I...I do not mean to question your decisions, but Mr. Stoker has been exciting many influential Londoners with tales of Vampires, should we not clear his mind?" 

Under normal circumstances, Patrick would have been annoyed at the questioning of his decision, but he was in a very good mood this afternoon. Violet, the name played in his mind. She was an extraordinary creature. Standing in the spotlight on the hay strewn floors of the circus, she had played her violin and awed them all. Though she dressed like an alluring wood nymph, she had the regal air of a queen and so much passion... When she kissed him, his breath had caught in his throat. Who would have thought lips could taste so sweet? That a moan could sound so entrancing?

Her reaction when the tightrope walker barged into the room had surprised him more than the unexpected kiss. The wild gypsy who had thrown herself into his embrace had been replaced by a cold maiden. Her behaviour made no sense, but it had intrigued him. She was a mystery and he had the feeling he would find great pleasure in uncovering her secrets.

Pushing pleasurable thoughts aside, Patrick regarded Robert.

"You are young, Robert, but I assume you have heard of the Age of Vampire Slayers?" The question was rhetorical. Every Vampire knew of the horrific age where Vampires were tracked and murdered by humans who viewed their mere existence as a threat.

"Yes leader, I know of it," the young Vampire acknowledged.

"Then you must also know of what was done to ensure such an age would never come again."

Patrick watched Robert shift his weight from one foot to another. "The leaders of the time gave the order to feed humans with tales of our race?"

"Exactly," Patrick agreed, "Outrageous tales, tales that made the Vampire race one that a human could only consider mythological. In their minds Vampires became flying, shape shifting creatures that are scared of crosses, holy water and garlic."

    "They think we can not stand the sun, too," Robert added with some derision.

    "Yes and these beliefs are precisely why our human neighbours do not suspect us of being anything other than human." Standing up, Patrick moved to the large window that overlooked Park lane, "Not only will we leave Abraham Stoker in peace, we will feed him all manner of stories. He may write his book, or play, whatever it is that he wishes to do and I will make sure that he gets published."

    "Stupid humans," Robert snorted. "They are so easy to manipulate!"

    Patrick frowned as he watched a carriage roll by. Many Vampires he knew shared Robert's sentiments concerning the human race. These young Vampires forgot that humans were their brothers and that they all came from the same roots.

    "You may leave. And Robert, I would advise you not to underestimate the Human race."

    Robert bowed, "Yes Leader." A moment later the boy was gone.

    Satisfied that he was done with the day's work, Patrick aligned the papers on his desk and then left the house.

    Walking down the cobblestone streets, he looked up at the sky. It had turned a dark blue, the heavy clouds ready to release their moisture. On nights like this one, he found himself yearning for the highlands where the stars would decorate the sky. London was a beguiling city, an exciting city, but it's pollution and smog left the moon and stars to ones imagination.

    Coming to an old building with a small red door, Patrick stopped and knocked.    

    Name. The soundless question came to him clearly in his mind.

    Patrick Bruce.

    The door opened swiftly to reveal a bowing doorman.

    "Welcome leader."

    Patrick inclined his head and walked passed the man into the dimly lit hallway. Voices rose above a violin playing a soulful melody. The music was beautiful, but did not move like Violet's had.

    Violet. He was thinking of her again. He had thought of her the whole day.

    The short hallway opened up to a large room with high ceilings. Settees were strewn across the space as well as a few small tables and chairs. The middle of the room was occupied by a large divan, the ottoman style mattress attracting several of the more experimental couples.

    Patrick saw Ismail and headed towards the mahogany bar where he sat. The club was scattered with Vampires, most of them looking as though they had begun their festivities a long while ago. Dozens of females sent him eager glances, but stopped short of approaching; while vampire women were free to chose any male partner for their pleasure, Leaders were exceptions.

    "It seems a little early for this type of entertainment." Patrick commented as he sat on the barstool beside the Ottoman.

    "They have been serving frogs blood," his friend said by way of explanation.

    Raising a brow, Patrick looked around once more. Four blondes lay on the divan, dressed like most of the other females, in sheer black dresses that left nothing to the imagination. Their eyes were closed in ecstasy, their lips inviting as several male Vampires watched them.

    "That would account for the earliness of the hour," Patrick nodded. Frogs blood had a curious effect on Vampires; it excited their sexuality and heightened their senses like no other substance seemed to do. Other than human blood of course, which could turn the most civil Vampire into an animal. "Perhaps we should have some?"

    Ismail regarded him with horror, "I think not Highlander."

    Patrick had only been joking. He was no fan of the induced high, nor the inevitable low that followed indulging in the aphrodisiac, but his friend's vehement reaction was a little strange.

    "Did you have a bad experience with it?"

The Ottoman nodded slowly, then reached for the glass of blood in front of him, "Yes, a terrible experience."

Terrible? Patrick's brows rose in surprise. He had never heard his friend use that term to describe an event. Ismail was the most composed man he knew, stout in his mystic beliefs about the world and strong in both body and mind. It was commonly believed that while Prince Alexander Kourakin was the best fighter in the world, Ismail had the strongest mind.

    The silence stretched out between them as a redheaded bartender approached their corner.

    "I'm waiting for the story of the terrible experience..." Patrick glanced at the eager looking female, then pointed at Ismail's glass: "I'll have whatever he's having."

    "Yes leader." The bartender batted her eyelashes as she shifted away.

    "So...?" he prompted.

"You won't let this go, will you?" Ismail asked with a sigh.

"Not a chance."

    "I met a beautiful woman in the Highlands, on the way to visit you one summer," Ismail spoke hurriedly, as if he wanted to get the unhappy memory out as quickly as possible. "We met one morning as I rode away from the Inn I was staying in. She was out for a ride. I asked if I could accompany her. She was so delightful, I decided to stay at the inn for a few more days." Ismail took a deep breath, his eyes had a faraway look. "We rode together every morning for near a fortnight, never exchanging names, never speaking of anything of a personal nature. We would meet, ride across the countryside and part."

    Patrick watched Ismail as the Ottoman stared down into his glass of blood.

    "I fancied myself in love with her, but I knew nothing would come of it. After visiting you, I had to return to the Empire, I had spent too long in Britain already. So on our last ride, I told her I would be leaving the next day. She said nothing in response, not even a farewell. When I returned to the Inn I was upset. Fate would have it that two of your Clan's men were passing through that evening, and they had frogs blood with them. They insisted I should drink with them. I agreed."

    Patrick waited as Ismail drank deeply.

    "Later that night, she came to the Inn. I don't know why she sought me out; I was beyond rational thought by then. The blood was clouding my judgment...She followed me to my room. It was wrong, I knew it even as we took pleasure from each other's bodies. And then she was screaming, scrambling to get away from me. My eyes must have changed, or perhaps my fangs grew with the effects of the blood. I can't be sure. I know I did not hurt her, but I scared her. She was terrified when she left my room, so I let her go, not wanting to scare her more than I already had."

    "Did you see her again after that?" Patrick asked. He could see how badly his friend felt and wished he could say something to relieve his mind.

    "No. I didn't know her name or where she lived. I waited at the spot we would meet for our morning rides, I wanted to fix things, to make things better somehow, but she never came. I couldn't find her. I have never seen such fear in female eyes Highlander. My shame has no bounds."

    "Well good evening gentlemen!" Prince Mikhail Belanov appeared behind their seats, his habitual smile on his countenance. He was the only human in existence who was given permission to enter the Vampire world; a leniency afforded him due to his kinship with the Blessed one. He glanced about, spotting several Vampire couples enjoying each others bodies, "And a very good evening it appears to be."

    "You have appalling timing Belanov," Patrick grumbled.

"Sorry?" Mikhail began, but Ismail distracted him by laying a hand on the young man's shoulder.

    "Does the Blessed one know you're here?" Ismail teased. He had lost his distracted air and was all smiles. 

    "Why would Angelica need to know I'm here?" Mikhail asked with feigned innocence. Both Patrick and Ismail had been lectured by Mikhail's sister after the first time the young human visited a Vampire club. 'He will never settle down if he continues to peruse these places with you two!' Angelica had complained one evening as the three of them sat in her drawing room.

    "Good," Patrick smiled, "I'm looking forward to delivering the news so I can watch you receive a tongue lashing."

    "If you tell her when I'm not around, I'll have your head Highlander," Ismail warned. "The Blessed one has been in a foul mood all week because of this here fool. I've received several lectures on his account."

    "Oh come, gentlemen, why so vindictive?" Mikhail grinned, "I am sure you deserved those lectures Ismail...well at least some of them."

    Ismail raised a brow and Patrick laughed.

    "Mikhail, I believe Ismail and I are going to play yes-men to your sister from now on when she starts in on us about your marital status." Thanking the bartender, Patrick lifted the glass of blood to his lips and drank.

    "Oh, come, and what does my marital status have to do with you two?" Mikhail complained as he asked for a glass of brandy for himself.

    Ismail shrugged, "Apparently we are bad influences."

    "Ismail, you are not married, but I haven't seen you touch a woman in as long as I've known you. There isn't a whiff of scandal about you, how are you meant to be a bad influence?" Mikhail wanted to know.

    "That is what I keep telling your sister," Ismail acknowledged. "But of course, the Highlander here has enough women for the both of us, so I am blamed by mere association."

    Patrick laughed at Ismail's suffering expression, "Come now, someone needs to keep the ladies happy. And with you playing at celibacy, I'm just doing my part to keep the balances in order."

    Mikhail grunted as he looked around the club again, "Angelica has little reason to worry, I can't possibly get myself into trouble here. Every woman in this place is making eyes at Patrick, even the ones with partners! If you were not a Clan Leader, you would have many enemies."

    Not bothering to look around, Patrick shrugged, "Jealousy is for the weak."

    Ismail shook his head pitying both of the men beside him, "I hope for both your sakes that one day you find a woman that will set you to rights."

    Violet. Her name popped into Patrick's head unbidden as Mikhail laughed the comment off. Patrick doubted he would ever find a woman that would hold his attention longer than a fortnight, but the black haired witch with the olive skin and haunting green eyes could most assuredly amuse him for a while.

He closed his eyes as he lifted his glass to his lips. He could still remember the feel her soft curves pressing against his body as she pulled his head down to kiss him. What had prompted her to do that when she knew nothing of him? Was it because he had saved her from that lion? Patrick supposed that gratitude of that sort led to spurts of strange behaviour.

Lady Violin. Who was she?

One of these days, he was going to have to visit the circus again.