Night's Omen

 Cherie, Annika, Evander, and Simon all sat in a circle in the generous backyard of their "childhood" home - the last home they had all lived in together before they began to go their separate ways. It was August, and they were all in varying degrees of formal clothing. The cheap metal-and-poly-blend-fabric folding chairs they sat in were ancient and soiled and creaked with every minute movement the siblings made. Nobody said anything, and there was a dim hum in the background as several yards away, family flocked inside for the buffet-like spread that had been set up in the kitchen. The windows were all open because the air conditioning had given up the ghost that morning, but nobody wanted to relocate.

 "Whoever the fuck's plan this was to have a funeral in the dead of August when it's eleventy-billion degrees outside can suck my sweaty balls," Simon said, sitting back in his chair. It creaked, hard, and his eyebrows raised as he suspected it might actually go the way of the air conditioner for a second - but nothing happened when he gave an experimental wiggle of his hips, so he waved his hand that didn't have a glass in it and raised the one with the glass to his mouth to drink.

 "Well," Evander said, a Look on his face as he tilted his head in That Way and raised his eyebrows. "I would ask that the finale to this evening is not my brother getting sucked off by the ghost of our dead father, but you know, we can see how we feel after a few drinks."

 There was a beat of silence where the mixed expressions of them all held - Cherie, as usual, looked like she was on the verge of tears, while Annika and Evander seemed mostly blank, and Simon looked angry - and for a moment, it seemed like the words were going to hang there awkwardly in the air. Cherie, however, broke unexpectedly. She cackled loudly and slapped her thigh, causing years-old mold spores from the chair to puff up from where it had rubbed into the black of her elegant dress.

 "Oh, gross!" Annika said, pointing. "Did you see that? Dude, these chairs are fucking toxic. We're probably going to to turn into those things from The Last Of Us," she said, kicking her feet out to expertly maneuver her chair in the grass and dirt and angle it away from Cherie in a dramatic fashion. She was the only one who had changed, now sporting a coral tank and a pair of cutoffs, but she had forgotten her shoes so she still wore her patent, shiny black flats. She also didn't have any socks, but she had gone upstairs and found some frilly socks in Cherie's childhood bedroom, so those were what she was working with.

 "God I hope not, because you look fucking ridiculous," Simon said, to which she lifted her leg up to model her shoe-sock combo. "Can you imagine running around trying to bite people like that? They'd think they were getting attacked by a giant seven year old."

 "We all look ridiculous," she countered. "Cherie's the only one who looks put together, as usual. I mean, of course you look so perfect on the best day of your life," she joked. "Honestly, I don't know why I'm the only one who changed."

 "Perf -  what?" Cherie said, head snapping up in confusion. Truth be told, she was dying just like the boys were. She had a lot of hair and the curl had long since fallen out since the 10 AM service. It was piled up in a messy bun but it did nothing for her. "What do you mean by that?" She felt the itch at the back of her throat for a cigarette, but refused to smoke around so much of her family, and so she took no action. She was acutely aware of exactly where her American Spirits were, though, baking in her car. Fuck.

 "Come on, we all know you hated him," Annika said, her penchant for 'just being honest' on full display. "It's fine, you can finally admit it."

 Cherie opened her mouth to say something back, but Simon cut between them with a sharp, "Stop it," and that was that. He was no stranger to the fight plucked from thin air Annika could start, and he wasn't about to pull them apart in front of the twenty or so people inside the house.

 "I'm gonna go get another drink," Cherie said, standing abruptly. Evander stood up to go with her, but she practically bared her teeth at him. "I will bring you another," she said, and the tone of her voice was enough to cause him to plant his backside down in the dirty chair without an argument. She said something under her breath that they all heard because obviously, but nobody replied as she picked her way back through the grass in her heels.

 Cherie went into the kitchen, her anger visible in a room full of supernatural creatures, but because of the circumstances nobody assumed anything further. She looked at the ice chest that held soft drinks and beers for a moment, before she realized someone was behind her, and she smiled wryly and stepped out of the way. Instead, she went for the freezer, plucking out the bottle of Crown Royal that she knew was buried in the ice. She didn't bother with a glass, and made her exit through the living room, not making eye contact with any of the extended family and friends who had come to visit. She continued down the steps of the house and out to the street, where she began the hike to her car. Thankfully she'd parked down the road a little, precisely so that if she'd wanted to make a quiet exit she could do so.

 She listened to locusts screaming in the trees as she leaned against the trunk of her black Dodge, the sweating bottle of Crown next to her with a moderate dent in it. Cigarette smoke lingered beneath her nose as she held the cigarette at her mouth, not to her lips just yet. She was listening intently to the locusts, mentally divorced from reality as the whiskey did its job, when a voice behind her caused her to jump and drop the cigarette on the ground.

 "Fuck!" she said, immediately identifying whether it was friend or foe. "William," she sighed, annoyance at her own jumpy reaction washing over her face. She knelt down to pick up the cigarette, blowing on the end of it before she took a drag.

 "Ugh," he said, but it wasn't at the habit - William had his own vices, so he wasn't about to bother Cherie with hers. "You put everything you find on the ground in your mouth, missy?" he asked, but he held an arm out to pull her into a half hug.

 "If I did, I'd probably have a much more interesting time," she said fondly. "Hello, William. Glad you could make it." She stepped away from him so that she could finish smoking, but she held the bottle out to him and he obliged.

 "Yeah, I didn't think I was going to be able to, truth be told," he admitted. He took a swig, the temperature of the whiskey cooler than he'd expected given how damp the bottle was. "Why are you out here? I looked for you all inside, but Simon said you were taking a break. Also, he had this weird like, checkered pattern on the back of his suit?"

 "Ohhhh, the chairs," she said, tilting her head back and groaning. William chuckled as she flicked the cigarette down the street and scrubbed her face, trying to compose her thoughts. "Yeah, I put myself in time out. Annika is... being her usual pleasant self," she admitted.

 "She always has been able to get under your skin," he acknowledged. He leaned on the car next to her. "What'd she say now?" He looked down at her, waiting for whatever new drama Annika had conjured up now. It was always something with her.

 "She said that I looked 'so perfect' on the 'best day of my life' and then when I asked what she meant by that, she said, 'we all know you hated him'. Like who the fuck says that, out loud?" She hadn't been worked up when she'd started talking, but as she explained the situation she began to raise her voice, and her nose grew red as her eyes became watery. "Like what does that mean? What he fuck does that mean? Sorry I didn't have the best relationship with the guy who cheated on my mom and then brought a whole ass new sibling home? Dude, that shit fucked me up as a kid. Do you know, heh, do you know - " she continued, rummaging in her handbag that had been on the trunk of the car to locate another cigarette, which she screwed into her lips and lit, taking a short drag that gave William no space to interrupt. "Do you know that I had to go to therapy over that? Yeah, they said it did some moral injury to my psyche. My fucking psyche. Oh my god, why is she like this!"

 "Ohhhh boy," William said, brows raised as he realized he'd hit a vein with his simple question. "Well," he started, trying to think of the right thing to say. "Don't you think it would take a fucked up person to say something like that?" he asked.

 Cherie drew in a breath to speak but didn't say anything. That made sense, actually, as much as she didn't want to admit it. She sighed, shakily - fortunately she hadn't gone into full sobs, but she was crying, and she didn't know if it was sadness or anger or both.

 "You all got a number done on you," he said gently. "You daddy was no friend of mine, Cherie. But he was your daddy, and that's why you don't hear me talk poorly about him. But he was not a good man. He may not have beat y'all, and he always kept you clothed and fed, but the people who came here largely are here because of y'all, not him."

 "Yeah, I guess," she said. She looked at him, lip quivering. "What if we're all really fucked up, actually?"

 William sighed. "Cherie, I have known you since you were a kit. You may have trust issues, but I have seen fucked up once or thrice on my time around this world doing what I do, and I promise, you lot are not it. Those three shored their emotions up tighter than a noose, you just didn't, that's all. There's no damage because you let yourself feel feelings," he said gently. "Also, you said 'fuck' at least seven times since we've been standing here, and you never curse so I think maybe the day and the alcohol are getting the better of you."

 Cherie sighed. "Maybe," she said. Then she made a face and nodded. "Probably, yeah," she laughed. "I really did say fuck a lot, huh?"

 "Yes you did. It's one of the ways I know you're not sober. You're usually a one-curse a day girl. But when you start drinkin' and smokin', this little filthy mouth comes right out."

 "Yeah," she agreed. "You know what's funny?"

 "What's that?" he asked.

 Cherie looked him dead in his eyes. "I get it from my daddy," she said, mimicking his accent.

 "Alright, well, clearly you feel better since you got jokes now," he said, reaching out to jab her in the side. "Come on, let's walk back up. I saw a few cars go by, maybe the house is less crowded now. And less hot, lord Jesus why did your A/C break today of all days?"

 "God hated dad too, I guess," she offered, linking arms with him as they began walking back up the street to the house.

 

"Can I ask you something without you getting mad" Cory said, leaning forward on the dark wood of his aunt's kitchen table. He was seated atop a chair with a shaggy off-white cushion on it, something that looked more like it should be on the floor in front of a fireplace than on a chair, but it somehow complimented the decor. Across from him sat Rosalind, perched on a wooden bench that didn't match the wood of the table. It was like her entire home had been decorated by some fairy-cabin-cottage-aesthetic-loving Brownie. Cory had never seen anything quite like it. Nothing matched, but everything somehow went together.

Rosalind nodded, reaching for the tall glass of ice water she'd brought out for them to have with dinner. Cory had, of course, timed this loaded question when her mouth was full, knowing she wouldn't have a chance to shoot back an answer. Of course, that wasn't her style, but since he was only just getting to know her for the past few months, he assumed she was more like his father than she really was.

"Why don't you and dad talk? I mean, I understand what happened when you were younger, that there's bad blood. I know that sounds like I'm drastically summarizing, but what I mean is, like. I don't know. He's not... all bad. He tries. I think, especially with the way things are now - " he stuttered, then shrugged. "I haven't always been the best son, and I was pretty hard on him. Some of it was deserved, but you know, I'm trying. And mom and him can be in the same room now, you know. I just thought, maybe... " he trailed off, looking down at his plate. Cory had all the makings of a grown Fae, but he was still adolescent in so many ways. At the moment, the scene was more like a teenager talking to an adult than two Fae on equal footing.

Rosalind set her glass down, and said simply, "Hm." She knew the question would come eventually. When he'd first showed up at her doorstep it had been unsurprising; Cory had been following her around for weeks, trying to work up the courage to approach her. Emma had warned her he might, because to the knowledge of absolutely nobody, she still kept up with her ex-husband's estranged sister. She'd told her Cory had started asking questions about their family history, and the Unseelie side had been shockingly less full of scandal than he anticipated. She had told him that the Seelie court was far more clandestine with information than hers had ever been, which naturally inspired him to go digging around all sorts of family history documents. Rosalind had known it would only be a matter of time.

"I'm not like - please don't think this is me pressuring you to, you know, talk to him or anything," Cory said, attempting to talk and fill the empty space that hung between them.

His need to not sit in silence and let people have their thoughts made Rosalind laugh. "You are your father's son," she said with a wry smile and a shake of her head. She reached out now, not for the glass of water she had, but for a wine glass that had until this point sat unattended, and pulled it towards her by the stem. "Hand me that?" she said, gesturing to a bottle of red wine behind him on the kitchen counter. He, with his massive reach, barely had to turn in his chair to seize the bottle, and he handed it to her wordlessly.

Rosalind grunted in thanks, popping the cork with ease and allowing the room to continue to hang in pause while she filled her glass about halfway. Once she had done that, she took a long drink of it, then sighed. "I understand that you aren't pressuring me," she said, knowing that reassuring this boy who was still in development mode was probably paramount. It was clear, without him even having said anything, that he and Alistair had a tense relationship. When he said they were both trying to do better, she understood from Emma, and from his own indications whether he realized it or not, how recent that change was. This kid had only ever known instability. Rosalind could relate.

"And I don't feel like by you being naturally curious that I am obligated to act in any way that would be harmful to me. But, Cory, as much as my brother and you are working towards healing and mending your relationship, he and I do not have that same common goal." It felt strange to say it out loud. She had always known there was never any going back, but so much time had passed that she rarely probed at those feelings.

"Never?" Cory asked. He looked more confused than disappointed, though that was probably there, too.

"Never is a long time to our kind," she said, "but I don't foresee any future where that changes. And I don't want to give you false hope by saying otherwise."

Cory sat with that information for a moment, like he hadn't expected her to be so direct with it. Alistair was so much more diplomatic and tended not to answer things except in roundabout ways. He was truly a product of his court. Rosalind might have been, too, if she'd stayed, but she was so divorced from that reality that she didn't know if she'd ever be able to go back (this wasn't an entirely true assessment; she had been able to slip right into the steely coldness that was the Seelie way as effortlessly as ever when confronted with threats from Taranis).

"I guess I had just hoped maybe there was some thing that you could hear or know, or something he could say that would make you come back," he admitted. "And, it does suck to hear that there isn't. I just..." he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "I wanted to have a family."

"Cory," she said, her voice flat. "You do have a family."

"Well, I don't think it's fair that you should feel like you can't come home, you know? I want a more better family," he spat.

Rosalind tried not to laugh, but her expression made Cory laugh at the way he'd phrased that, and so she did. "Just because Alistair and I don't speak doesn't mean that I will ever stop being your aunt, or loving you so much, Cormac. I am so very glad that you found me. Nothing, no time or distance, can erase our blood. We are still family, even if it's not all in one place and as perfect as you'd have hoped."

Cory got up from the chair and came to sit next to her. "I just don't want dad to find out and run you off, again," he said. His facial expression was hard, but she could see his eyes get a little glassy, and she held her arms out to him, where he swiftly dove in, more reminiscent of a child hugging a parent than the rigid teen he was.

  Rosalind almost told him that Alistair physically couldn't, but realized that it wouldn't do any good. "He won't," she assured her nephew, patting his back gently as they hugged.

Rosalind's kitchen was what one would describe as 'cozy'. The cabinets had glass windows where one could see the neatly lined rows of mugs, cups, plates and bowls, and the weathered white paint on the wood seemed brighter somehow against the myriad of plants that hung from various spaces in the room. A string of off-white lights (fairy lights, they were called, ironically) were pinned over the window at the sink and beyond, giving the space a pleasant warm glow. There was only a single hanging light fixture positioned directly over the table providing light at the moment, where Rosalind currently sat, papers with notes on them strewn about as she worked in near-silence. The only sound came from the rain as it tapped against the skylight; sometimes loud, sometimes not. Currently, it was a steady drizzle, but rolling thunder in the distance suggested that peace may not last for very long.

She set her pen down after a while, sitting back on the stool to stretch. How long had she been working? She must've lost track of time, but she was going over notes for her newest greenhouse additions. As the seasons changed, so did availability, and she needed to ensure that she was stocked up on what she wanted before she had to resort to going against the natural order of things. It wasn't that she couldn't, but she preferred not to. Rosalind felt that too many of her kind didn't respect the things they wielded dominion over, and it lead them down paths of destruction in the end. Honestly, it was not hard to tell that she was royalty - Rosalind had a way of looking down on others, even other Fae, and it was something that had been ingrained into her from birth. And that was a long time ago. 

Rosalind got up finally, going to the cabinet to get a mug for some tea. As she closed it, she caught movement in the reflection of the glass on the door, and whipped around quickly, mug released as both of her hands raised. The ceramic shattered against something and every plant in the kitchen was tensed and strained, a violent overgrowth just moments from bursting out of their pots.

"That was a little dramatic, don't you think?" Taranis asked, arms up to shield himself against the mug unsuccessfully. He lowered his first, brushing himself off. "You throw a lot harder than I recall," he said smoothly.

"Why are you in my house? Uninvited?" she asked, emphasizing that his presence had not been requested. She still didn't lower her hands, but the green in her eyes became less vibrant, the colour returning to the hazel they usually were.

Taranis chuckled. "Well, your policy, as I recall it, is that I am always welcome, so I didn't think I needed an invitation. Certainly didn't think I'd be received quite so violently," he added.

"My policy is that all Fae are welcome, Taranis. Not you exclusively," she said. She did drop her hands then, realizing that if he meant to start a fight it would have already started. "What do you want?" she asked with a sigh, hand raised now as if to say 'what the fuck'. She walked past him to the small pantry and pulled a broom out from it, ushering him out of the way so she could sweep up her mug.

"Just thought I'd pop by for a visit is all," he said, narrowly avoiding getting smacked with the broom as she began aggressively sweeping. "Do you want me to fix that for you, or - Oh, okay then," he said, as she stared directly at him and dumped the dust pan into the trash and let the lid slap down as loudly as possible.

"That act may work on some of the younger Fae, but I'm not them," she reminded him. "Now come on, what do you want?"

He stared at her for a moment in silence. On one hand, it was irritating that she felt the need to inform him who she was; he was older than her kingdom, older than most of Fae written history. And yet, of all the royals, and Seelie, he'd dealt with over the years that were long lost, she was probably one of the ones he had the most... amicable thoughts about. It wasn't a friendship by any means, but Taranis respected someone who knew what they were about, and Sorcha Blackwood, or whatever she chose to call herself these days, definitely knew what she was about.

"Alright, I need a f-", he started, and then stopped himself. He shook his head, a wry smile on his face, and then looked back at her, fixing his green eyes firmly on her. "I need some assistance, Rosalind. If you're willing."

"Hmm, you really almost fucked up there, for a second," she said, smirking. "Wouldn't want a repeat of the last time you asked someone for the f-word, would we?" She folded her arms, but didn't come any closer to him.

"Yes, I don't need any reminders," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Will you sit with me?"

"Sit with you?" she parroted.

"Yes, sit with me. And talk. Discuss this thing I may have need for. I'll make it worth your time, even if you say no," he offered. He held his hand out, gesturing to the stool that she'd been sitting in.

"I always feel like I'm in talks for a bargain with the devil when you ask me to sit and talk with you," she said pointedly. Rosalind felt no need to hold back from him; she never did with anyone. The reason they came to her was usually for healing, which typically meant they were not coming from a position of power. With Taranis, obviously that was not the case, however it didn't change that critical way she stared at him or how she chose to speak.

"Lucky for us, we don't believe in the devil," he said. "Now please, sit?"

Katya stared down at her hands, sitting quietly at the end of the bar. She was lucky that Darren had told Ash it was fine if she came back in. She had a lot of people to apologize to, but she'd saved him for last. Not because it was hard - it was hard, but more because she'd realized that he had genuinely been a friend to her this entire time. It wasn't her ability. It had taken a lot of therapy to realize that, but she realized it.

"Hey," he said, leaning against the counter across from her, his stance casual. He had a bar towel over his left shoulder, and she wrinkled her nose at the heavy scent of floral mixture. With Anthony gone, Cerberus had taken over barback duties from time to time, and that man loved him some Fabuloso. "Welcome back." He gave her his characteristic half-smile, and she saw it didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Yeah, about that," she said, dipping her head again for a second. She looked up, nodding, the unsure expression she'd worn shifting to one of resolve. "Listen. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. For the whole mind control thing and being a bad friend. And, just, everything. I've had a lot of time to think, and deal, and I had to get a lot of help - "

"Yeah, I feel like when Raphael is the one shipping you and your, arguably worse, sibling to grief counseling and extended therapy for immortal beings, maybe you missed a few buddy checks along the way," he said, squinting.

"Yes," she sighed. "I know. I should have been honest and just told you I wasn't coping, but I didn't - I don't know, I didn't want to look weak," she admitted.

Darren snorted, then shifted his balance, facing her more as he leaned onto the counter with his arms. "Katya, I have never, and will never, see you as weak. You are one of the strongest people I know. Asking for help isn't weak," he added. "Anyways, Ash gave me like a month off after everything was said and done, paid, so, you kind of hooked me up with a free vacation." A grin broke out on his face.

She sat back a little, mouth dropping open. "You're not mad?" she asked, unable to hide her surprise.

"Yeah, I mean, I was mad. I got over it, though. I think it probably helped that I was already your friend, so I had a little empathy there. The leopards were pretty pissed off," he said absently, shrugging.

"Yeah, strangely they accepted my apology pretty quickly. I guess they had their own grief thing going on," she muttered. "I'm glad you're my friend. My actual friend, with free will," she added, reaching out to put her hand over his.

"Me too," he replied. "Especially the bit about the free will." He paused. "You know you're really lucky you walked out of that," he said, lowering his voice a little. He didn't exactly want to advertise; the bar was crowded, and there was a steady din going on, but even still. Nobody really needed the details. "I talked to Persephone, and I guess... Justin politely requested that anyone problematic get handled."

She leaned in a little. "Raphael had mentioned, but he was with Sasha and I, putting as much distance as possible between him and... that," she said. Midnight, one of the many thats that was going around. "What do you mean, politely requested? Is it official guild hits? Or something else?"

"Something else. Look, I didn't get much, but what I did get, was that Stefan and Patryk are like, cleaning up." He reached up to scratch his eyebrow with his thumb, glancing around again as he spoke. "And I think Christian is on board with it. Weirdest crossover ever, right?"

"Yeah, it's like... kind of blowing my mind. But, then again," she said, shrugging, "Raphael let Narkisa go. Kept his word, cut her loose. Sasha has taken the mantle of responsibility and, honestly, somehow I ended up the bad one - however briefly. It's very twilight zone," she admitted. "Anyways, I'm better now, I think. And," she added, looking not so subtly over her shoulder where a certain redhead sat," I've got one last person to talk to."

Darren grinned. "Do you need a little liquid courage?" he asked, making a face at her.

She laughed. "You take that twinkle out of your eyes right now, mister," she warned, sliding off of the bar stool. "Gotta do this one free and clear. No booze, no power."

"Well, hopefully he's not an idiot, and I will hear the rest of the story at a later date. Go get 'em, tiger, " he said, turning. He stopped, mid-turn, and then winced. "Too soon?"

"Nah," she said, waving him off. She took a deep breath, something totally unnecessary, but habitual for Katya all the same. Okay, she thought. Here we go. And with that, she walked towards the booth where the Fae sat. Fortunately, both of his sisters were absent and occupied - Whitney was talking to a good-looking guy that had on glasses she didn't necessarily recognize, while Roxy was chalking a pool stick and watching as another Fae laid down money on the corner of the table.

"Hey," she said, realizing he'd clocked her as she was on the approach. She gave a half wave, and then immediately thrust her hands behind her back, because she didn't really know what to do with them at the moment.

"Oh, hey," he said, his voice friendly. He turned his body in the booth so he was fully facing her. "Katya, right? How are you doing? I checked on you after, but they said you weren't taking visitors, so..."

"Yeah, it's a rule the first few weeks. Supernatural detox is kind of intense," she said, forcing a laugh. "It was only my first stint, but I'm pretty sure it's the last. I am officially armed with the tools to help support my emotional needs," she said, reciting something that had been repeated over and over while she'd been there.

"That's good to hear," he said, and his laugh was genuine. "I know it seems like bullshit, but holding it in - well, you've seen how it goes. Sometimes when you're around for a really long time, you forgot how much power you actually have."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," she said, finally moving one of her hands forward, hazarding to the guess.

He nodded. "Yeah, unfortunately. If you think vampires are volatile, you've never met Fae." He smiled, shaking his head. "I'm not talking shit on my own kind, of course, but it's no secret we can fly off the handle if you hit the right combos."

"Well, at least I wasn't the only basket case you've ever handled, then," she said.

He waved his hand. "God, no. Far from it. I'm sorry I basically had to pin your arms by your side and cool you down, by the way. I don't like doing that without, you know, consent."

"No, no no - god, I came over here to apologize to you, not the other way around," she said quickly, laughing. "Listen,  I - do you want to go out sometime? Like, just for coffee. Or, dinner?"

Roshan looked at her, and then looked at the floor and sighed before looking back up. "You know, Katya, that sounds like it would be a really good time, but...  no."

She couldn't hide the shock on her face, and frankly, she didn't even try. "What?" she asked, brows furrowing in confusion. "I mean - I'm sorry, I must have misread, I totally thought that night before, you had been hitting on me, and - oh god, this is - I did not anticipate rejection," she admitted, a wicked case of motormouth.

"Hey, hey," he said, standing quickly. He took her hands, which surprised her, but she didn't fight him on it. "Listen. You're - beautiful. And, honestly, I kind of hate that I'm telling you no right now, but you just went through a lot, and the first time we met, you got a heavy dose of what I can do, and it's not exactly something I like to build a foundation off of."

"Right, because then you never know if someone is around for you, or for the magic," she said. Her voice was flat, but she understood. God, did she understand.

"Yeah, that's exactly it," he said, his voice gentle. He gave her a sincere smile, slowly letting her hands go. "I would have loved to, though."

She nodded, and made to leave, but hesitated, and turned back around. "Do you think you'd ever reconsider?" she asked.

Roshan glanced up, aware very suddenly that Whitney and Roxy were both staring at him. Roxy had her pool stick behind her head and over her shoulders, and her blue eyes were practically on fire with what she was seeing. She also saw Blaise scratch on his last shot, and stuck her hand swiftly into the pocket before he could sneak the cue ball back out, saying something harsh to him while never breaking eye contact with her brother. Roxy, clearly, thought he was a fucking idiot. He looked from her to Whitney, whose face he couldn't quite read. He saw her eyes widen and her gaze jump from him to the vampire and back.

"I would need to think about it," he said. "Honestly."

"Okay, that's fair. Maybe I'll see you around," Katya said. She nodded, and turned, going back to the bar.

"So, how'd it go?" Darren asked, sliding back over to her. "Do you have a wedding date set?"

"He said no," she replied, looking up at him.

"What?" Darren squawked, unable to contain his shock.

"Yeah," she replied, motioning for that drink now. "Something about.. ability making it hard to tell what people were really after."

"Wow, that's something you, very specifically, can relate to," he said, back to her as he poured. He turned around and set the glass down in front of her, dropping a cherry in it.

"The irony is not lost on me, believe me," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I'll be back to check on you later," Darren said, and left her with her drink to sit in a frustrated silence.

She was at the point in the drink where it was less alcohol and more ice when a tap on her shoulder roused her from her pity party. She looked up, surprised to see Roshan standing there. "Hey," she said, and she was happy, but confused. "Did you come to tell me you reject my offer and you think we'd be better friends?" she asked.

Roshan grinned. "Why, is that what you want to hear? Because, what I was going to say was, I think maybe we could do dinner next week, but if you'd prefer the other route, I guess I can - "

"I'll be there," she said, cutting him off with a laugh. "Of course, I'll be there."

He nodded. "Wonderful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to have to go break up a fight before it starts," he explained, nodding to Roxy and Blaise, who were getting loud over a supposed glamour on a pool shot. "I told you, volatile."

They pulled up to the house because every time Patryk had tried to phase from the SUV, one of those fucking Fae had grabbed his arm. For the trouble, the SUV received a massive dent in the door, one he heard Stefan laugh at as he got out to survey the damage. "Since you all insisted on coming along," Patryk said, speaking through clenched teeth, because now he was good and pissed, "get accountability of every single thing coming out of that house. I don't know how many are in there, but they might need help. Use your - whatever the fuck you have," he said, gesturing to them with a sprinkling motion.

"Use my Salt Bae?" Whitney quipped.

"Not now," Stefan warned her, and all the humour that the vampire had held in his voice previously was gone. He shook his head at her, and she rolled her eyes, slapping her hands at her sides.

"Right, I got it. We'll be the medical tent," she said with a sigh.

"And you," Patryk said, pointing a finger directly at Roshan. "No support, this time. Stay out here, with them. Stefan and I will handle this."

Roshan held his hands up. "I'm not trying to get involved!" he protested. "But, I did hear your boss say try not to like, you know," he said, making a noise and running his finger across his neck. "I could actually help with that."

"Didn't you rip a guy's head off?" Roxy asked, shifting her body weight from foot to foot in the wet grass of the yard. "Just - we'll watch him, guys," she assured them, reaching out and clamping down on her brother's shoulder. She rolled her eyes, holding him in place as he fought back. "I'm stronger than you are, Roshan," she reminded him.

Neither vampire stood around to hear how that argument was going to go, instead walking directly to the house. "You get the cats. I'll take Katya," Patryk said. He saw Stefan nod out of the side of his vision, and paused at the top step, turning to him. "I'm gonna try," he said.

"Not hard, though," Stefan countered.

"Probably not," he admitted.

"Don't blame you," the shaggy blonde said. "Alright, let's do this." And with a quick motion, he drew his knee to his chest, then kicked out, planting his boot firmly on the door. It practically exploded off of the hinges.

"Jesus, what's Santos been putting in your Wheaties?" Patryk asked, looking with surprise at Stefan. Stefan only offered him a casual shrug in return, then stepped directly into the foyer of the house. He heard footsteps, but was thankful when it was Darren he saw, whose face was filled with relief.

"Oh, thank god," he breathed. "I'm holding on by a thread." And he looked it, honestly. Patryk hadn't seen Darren in a while, because he'd been absent from the bar - for obvious reasons - but also because he hadn't been around when Patryk had been there.

"Come on, we're here to get you guys out," Stefan said, extending his arm towards the door. "Where is everyone else?" He didn't miss the confused look on Darren's face, and rolled his eyes. "Where are they?" he asked again, prompting the cat from his momentary daze of seeing what he'd known as a terror in Midnight as one of the good guys.

"Upstairs. Derek came down to trade out with Serena. She was breaking. There's three more," he explained, his voice shaky. He gave them their names and ages. "Erik, Serena, Derek and I were the most resistant to her power, so we've been trading out, trying to keep the kids from getting completely brainwashed. It's getting really hard," he admitted. "I don't understand. She was our friend."

"She's not your friend, anymore," Patryk said. Something dark passed over his eyes, and Darren just nodded, passing his hand through his dark mop of hair.

"Go out to them," Stefan told him. "And do not come back here. They'll help you. I'll go get the others," he assured him.

"Serena - she's my twin," Darren said, and he stopped, unsure of what he meant to say after that.

"I understand, boy," Stefan said, his voice lacking the harshness it had previously. "I'll get her out. Go over there, now," he pressed. When the cat ran from the house, Stefan looked back at Patryk. "Won't she be able to roll you?"

"Just go get the others," Patryk said, not answering his question. Stefan didn't know if it was because he didn't honestly know, or because he didn't care. He couldn't say he'd bet on either, as both answer was characteristically Patryk. He went up the stairs quickly, vanishing from the sight of the other vampire.

Patryk rounded the corner, coming into a tense scene. Katya was holding onto Derek, and he could see from her grip that the boy was in pain, but he was making a pretty good show of not reacting to it. "Let him go," he told her, like he'd simply told someone to put something down.

"No," she said, anger reflected on her pretty face. "He's my family, he's staying with me," she insisted.

"No," Patryk said, tone like he was speaking to a child. "He's my family, and you're going to let him go, or I'm going to make you."

To Derek's surprise, Katya did let go, but he felt a wave of power come from her that almost knocked him on his ass. He stumbled away from the sudden release of her grip, using the momentum to get as far away as he could from her in the process. Given that Kiyoshi had made him feel like he was being physically ripped into a few dozen pieces, low-crawling across a carpeted dining room floor wasn't above him if it meant getting to safety. He scrambled to his feet as he made it about even with Patryk, and then hesitated.

"Run," Patryk told him, the command issued before another, much more harsh, wave of power rolled across.

Derek ran, surprised that Stefan snatched him as his foot passed the threshold of the front door. "Go to them, now," he urged. He had known Katya would use her power to try and stop this coup, and was incredibly thankful for the trio of Pixies who had essentially created a zone where her magic did not reach. No, she'd be calling none of her prisoners back to her this night.

"You're gonna make me?" she asked, tilting her head. She reached out, shoving the table out of her way, and it slid across the carpet and into the wall with a crash. It was a display of power that might have intimidated a human, but to another vampire, it was nothing. "You are a child compared to me. You couldn't make me do anything," she said, her chin raised.

"I'm older than I look," Patryk said, and though it was cryptic to Katya, it was a bluff. In truth, he'd just heard it from Roshan so many times, it had become reflexive. Of course, she wouldn't know that.

She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms. "I could make you," she told him, her smoky voice dangerously low. "I can feel it in you, cat. I could rip it out of you, right here, right now," she threatened.

Patryk stared at her, his expression unphased. Oh, he could definitely feel her bearing down on him, trying to get him to shift, but someone far worse than her had already played that game with him - and failed. "You could try," he told her. "But it didn't work out too well for the last one of you who tried to make me do anything," he said. He had a knife in his hand, then, and his grip on it tightened. "I guess I'll tell Christian I did try," he said. "But I draw the line at being made to do things against my will."

Something he said made Katya snap. She inhaled sharply, and then began sobbing. "You're right - no, you're right, you're right," she said suddenly. She held her hand out, then sank down to her knees on the carpet. It was sudden, but Patryk didn't change his focus any. "Please, please kill me," she said, gulping. She was hysterical, now. "Please, I need you to - this isn't me, I can't - I did those things, these people are my friends, and I - Oh my god, I don't deserve to still be here, it should be Tanya, it shouldn't be me".

Patryk took a step forward, ready to oblige her, but that fucking fairy got in front of him, holding his hands up and waving them wildly.

"Wait!" he shouted. "Wait, wait, wait, Patryk, wait," he said.

"Kid, are you out of your fucking mind?" Patryk growled. Fuck it, he'd slice him, too. The Fae would recover. Patryk advanced, only to be met with a sharp shock as he felt himself suddenly and wholly in pain for a long second. He yelled out in surprise, dropping the knife, but made quick work of reaching for it again.

"Hey!" Whitney yelled, her voice echoing from where she stood in the doorway. "Don't threaten my brother, or the next time, it's not just gonna hurt," she warned. Fuck, were they ganging up on him, now?

"Patryk, I know you're all 'I am vengeance' or whatever right now but dude, trust me, I am uniquely qualified for this very, very specific scenario. Okay? Just trust me," Roshan said. He backed away from Patryk, and he did look sorry that the dude had met the wrong end of a little bit of lightning. He turned back to the vampire who was a mess on the floor, holding his hands out like he was trying to tame a wild animal.

"Katya, is that your name? Hey, you remember me? We met a few hours ago, and I - "

"God damnit, kid!" Patryk roared at him, getting back up. "You'd better figure it the fuck out, because you've got about thirty seconds before I don't give a fuck what your sisters have in store for me," he warned.

"Shit," Roshan said, looking from Patryk and back to the girl on the floor. "Listen, this isn't going to make a lot of sense, and normally I like to get to know someone before I, uh, do this, but - oh fuck it," he said. He pushed out with his power, hard, directing it right at her. She stopped crying almost immediately, and with that, the sudden stoppage of her oppressive power. It felt like the area, which had previously been something like being vacuum sealed, suddenly popped, and outside, all of the cats, despite being in the no-no zone, felt sudden relief.

Patryk, who had felt the crushing weight on his chest of her power, was left only with the lingering sting from Whitney's magic. He shook it off, pointing at her with his knife. "She had my family," he said, his voice still thick with anger.

"And she's not going to do it again," he said, still at arm's length from her, crouched down. "Are you?"

She looked up, face red and eyes swollen from crying. "No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry - please tell them I'm sorry, I couldn't control it," she said, speaking quickly, tripping over her own words.

"It's okay, shh, stop, stop," Roshan said, inching closer to her. "It's over, okay? I stopped it, you're okay."

Patryk walked out of the house in a daze, though wholeheartedly unsatisfied because he'd really wanted to kill something. It was quickly forgotten when Derek spotted him and darted over, not too manly at all to hug his 'uncle'. Patryk gripped the boy tightly, looking around him at Stefan, who only nodded to him in return.  He released Derek, walking through the throng of cats and going straight for Whitney, who immediately jumped up, holding her hands up in surrender.

"His gift is emotions," she said quickly, backing up until she felt the metal of the SUV. "He really was equipped for this one. More than before. He's way better at that than he is at, you know, decapitation," she added, a nervous laugh following. When Patryk was still silent, she kept talking, trying to fill the space. "Look, I'm sorry I bolted you, but you cannot fuck with my brother," she said, shaking her head.

"I told you all to stay out of the way," he said finally. He turned from her, obviously having nothing for the rest of it, and Whitney had to hide her smirk because she knew she'd won. He looked at Roxy as he walked past her, not missing the daggers she had for him, either. Truthfully, Patryk was burning mad that he hadn't been able to kill the vampire. As far as he was concerned, there was no room for any abuse of power like that anymore.

"You know, sometimes there is a way around it," Stefan said, as though he had read his mind.

"And sometimes there shouldn't be," Patryk said flatly. He watched as Roshan walked with Katya out of the house, guiding her to the car that held Sasha and Raphael, who had assured Stefan they were taking her somewhere to get her better. Whatever that meant, he didn't know, and he didn't fucking care. "The wrong ones get to walk away far too often."

"Maybe," Stefan admitted. He glanced at Patryk. "But to a lot of people, we've been the Wrong Ones."

Patryk didn't say anything, just nodded a little.

Katya sat at the bar, and by now this had become her routine. She would drink until she couldn't feel anything anymore, and then she'd - well, she didn't really know. On some level, she knew she was doing something horrible, but she wouldn't let herself acknowledge it. At home, she had quite the menagerie. Friends. Though, they weren't really her friends, were they? No, they were there because she'd called them to her, and they stayed around because she told them to. She wasn't actively harming any of them, she was just keeping herself company with them. After all, why shouldn't she?

She felt warmth next to her, and it broke her from her reflections. She looked over, cattish eyes narrowed at whoever decided to get so close to her. She didn't even take the time to get a pull off him, instead her mouth only doing something that could be described as angry.

"Hey, so - " he began.

"Kill yourself," she barked, cutting him off. She turned away from him and looked up at Cerberus, who was watching the interaction with surprise. He knew Katya had been in a bad way since - well, since everything had gone to shit, but he'd never seen her talk like that to someone before. Except Raphael, but that didn't really count.

"Noooo problem," he said, glancing up with sympathy - yes, sympathy, which he was capable of on occasion - at the guy she'd just snubbed. He had no idea what he'd wanted to say to her, but whatever it was, he'd taken the hint immediately. A point in his favor, at least, though to be fair, Hellcat's Hollow was known for a clientele that knew how to back off. It was not the norm that Cerberus was used to, but he appreciated the low level of force he needed to use, on the rare instance where it was needed.

"So, you know that guy, or..." he asked. He had the advantage of having known Katya for a while, and so he was more able to dodge some of her biting remarks.

"No," she said, taking the receipt from him and signing it. She held it back out to him. "And I don't want to. I don't want to know anyone."

"You know me," he said, his voice going up like he was offering her a suggestion.

"Whatever," she said, pushing away from the bar. "Just tip yourself. I don't care," she said, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket as she made for the door. She didn't look back, or at anyone else, for that matter. It was pretty clear that whatever Katya was looking for, she wasn't finding it there.

Cerberus glanced back over at the table where the man who'd tried to shoot his shot had returned to, and couldn't help but laugh. He clocked that little shit Whitney first, mostly because he heard her before he saw her. Next to her, her sister, who was no better. The man sat across from them, and if colouring was any suggestion, they were related. Damn. Katya was in so deep that even a Fae's charm wouldn't work on her?

Cerberus was right, of course, but Katya wasn't there to tell him. She had phased most of the way home already, though she stopped about a quarter mile out, preferring to walk. The air was cold and wet, but she didn't really feel it, because she didn't really feel anything. That hadn't even been the alcohol, or the little boost that she'd had in it, and it hadn't been the random human she'd fed from, either, though it certainly hadn't hurt her any. She just never felt full. She was smart enough to know what it meant to be fed, and so she wasn't out there gorging herself on blood like some tick on the back of an animal, drinking until it burst, but still, there was something inside her that she couldn't fill, and she couldn't figure out what.

The door to her home opened before she was able to put the key in the lock, and she was greeted by Serena Liten. "Hey! You're back early! We made dinner. We waited, but - we figured you wouldn't be home for a while, so we already started." She wrung her hands nervously.

"It's fine, Serena," Katya said, stepping past her. Inside the large house, several cats roamed. Darren was in the kitchen, currently arguing with Derek over a wishbone and how exactly the best method of breaking it was, while Summer, Seth and Tristan all ate, ignoring the debate. "Wow, looks like quite a spread," she said, smiling.

"Yeah, sorry - are you sure you don't want any?" Serena asked, her hand lightly resting on Katya's shoulder.

"No, it's really fine," she said, nodding. "I already ate. Trust me, I'm fine," she added. She stepped out from her friend's caring touch, uncomfortable by the exchange. "Where's Erik?" she asked, feigning a brightness to her voice that she didn't feel.

"He said he got a call from work, but he'd be back soon," Darren said, glancing up.

"He left?" Katya said. "I told him to wait for me." Her posture straightened. "When did he leave?"

The room got quiet in a way that was tangibly awkward, and Katya crossed her arms. "When did he leave? Summer?" Her voice had changed, more authoritative than it had been a moment prior.

"A few hours ago," the girl said, still looking down at her plate. "He's a hunter, Katya. He can't - "

"I know what he is," she snapped, cutting Summer off. "Fuck," she hissed. Of course her hold on him would have waned first. She could only guess who might be next. She had established relationships with Darren and Serena prior to this, so telling them to come play house had been easy. The leopards, maybe? She didn't know.

"Katya, we have to go back to our lives, eventually," the snow leopard said quietly. He'd stopped fighting Darren for the wishbone, and walked towards her, his hands up. "We love being here with you, but we do have families to go back to."

"NO!" she yelled. "I am your family. You have to stay here, with me. You have to love me," she said, stomping her foot for emphasis, looking like a child throwing a tantrum. "I say when you leave. Not anyone else. Not Erik! Me!"

"Okay!" Derek said, dropping immediately into the closest chair. "Okay, Katya. We won't leave, okay? Just - calm down."

"I am calm," she shouted, her tear-streaked face suggesting exactly the opposite. "Where is Erik? I want Erik!" she cried out, covering her face and dropping to the floor in a seated position.

Serena was immediately at her side, taking her into a hug. She looked over at her twin, her eyes communicating very clearly that he needed to get Erik, because this was only going to get worse. "It's okay, Katya, it's okay," she soothed, jerking her head towards the door at her brother. "Darren is gonna find Erik for you, okay? I'm sure he was just checking in for work and he didn't mean to be gone so long, he would never leave you. We'd never leave you. We're your family, we'd never leave you," she assured her.

At the glance she threw the rest of the cats in the room, they all slowly got up and cleared out, realizing that it might still be a fight ahead of them if they meant to make it out of that house anytime soon. "God, I hope Darren gets help," Seth said softly. "I have no power with her, and I do not like it."

"Yeah, no shit," Derek said, guiding the duo and their dark-haired friend up the stairs and away from that time bomb. "I've been in a situation like this before. Physically, way worse. But this takes the cake for the mind-fuck of the century," he snapped.

---

At the Frost guildhouse, Erik sat in Christian's office, practically detoxing off of the hold that Katya had on him. It had only broken after she'd demanded he tell her he loved her, and for whatever reason, that had done the exact opposite of what she'd wanted it to, and he'd just - he still couldn't explain it, but he was grateful for whatever had happened. He supposed it had something to do with the way his second form had come about, because the others in that house showed no signs of breaking quite as easily. Some had it worse than others, but overall, the status was not good. They were all aware of what was happening, and when they showed signs of resisting, she just laid it on harder.

"What do you mean, Derek is being held at Katya's house?" Christian asked, sitting forward in his chair. Oh, he'd heard what Erik had said, but he wanted to make crystal clear that he understood what he'd said. This was a vampire that had been helpful to them all in the past, and though he wasn't above killing her, he wanted to make sure he knew why he was doing it. Especially so nobody could fight him on his logic.

"Man, she's really fucked up. I killed Pandora, Pandora killed one of her sisters, she's just grieving, and very poorly," he said.

"Am I hearing you incorrectly, or are you defending her?" Christian asked.

"I'm not - fuck, I'm not defending her actions, man. I'm just saying that this is super out of character for her, and - "

"She's holding cats hostage, Erik," Christian said sharply.

Erik was quiet for a second, and Christian could tell that he was doing the math in his head. "Yeah. She is," he agreed. "There's a way to do it without putting her down. I know there is," he insisted.

Christian nodded. "If there is, then that's the route we'll go. But, Erik, no promises. Derek is in there," he said, and that was all he needed to say, because Erik understood that no favors were on the table in terms of what little family the man had left.

"Yeah. Yeah, no, I understand. I want to go, with whoever you send - "

"Absolutely not," Christian said, cutting him off. "She already rolled you once. I get that you broke out of it, and I'm very thankful you did, but I'm past taking chances. You will be the first to know, as soon as it's over, however it ends." Christian watched as the man nodded, and he stood the same time Erik did, extending his hand out to him. "I know it's hard," he told him. "But this is the way it needs to be, now."

As Erik left the office, Christian picked up his phone. "Found Derek," he said, his voice betraying the fatigue behind it. "You'll never guess where."

Patryk held a hand up, silencing Roshan as he began to ask him for the second time what he wanted. He, Stefan, Roshan, and his two sisters, were all in the car, and Roshan wouldn't shut the fuck up until they got Taco Bell. "Hold on, Christian," he said. He lowered the phone, and then leaned across the seat and put his face two inches from the Fae's. "If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to rip your other arm off," he warned. He slowly leaned back into his seat and held the phone back up, never once taking his eyes off Roshan. "Alright, where is he?"

"Katya's. Along with, apparently, quite a few other cats. Seems she's been playing pretend with them."

"Pretend? Like, sex stuff?" Patryk asked, making a face. The car had been quiet before, but it was DEAD silent now. Even Stefan looked up from the back seat, sandwiched between the two Herald sisters who had been trying to read his palm, or whatever the fuck they'd said.

"No, thank god, because this would be going a vastly different way if it had. Remember how I told you that after Bacchus got wasted, two more ancients went down in short order right after? Well, her creator was one of them. Took one of the sisters with her, too."

"Right, the wolf girl," he said, idly scratching the stubble on his chin as he scrubbed his memory for those conversations.

"Well, guess she's not the only person unable to cope with the death of loved ones," Christian said, and there was a tone to his voice that Patryk didn't like. "Except she didn't have the good sense to just turn it off like I did."

"I'll handle it," Patryk said.

"Try the method where we don't lose someone who, up until a few weeks ago, apparently, was an ally," Christian told him.

"I'll try," Patryk said, and it was understood that he would, but he was probably not going to try that hard. He hung up the phone, then stared at Roshan. "Change of plans. No Taco Baco or whatever the fuck you called it. I need to go somewhere."

Patryk's laughter cut through the cold air. He laid on his back in the blood-soaked snow, the sound echoing off into the night. Fuck, but he was in pain. He'd almost gotten a bite taken out of him, too, but he remembered the warning Stefan gave him, and so he'd managed to avoid it by wearing fucking chainmail. He'd been burning up the entire time, too, but he knew it would pay off - and it had. Timozel had gone in to take a piece out of him given the first opportunity, and it hadn't worked out in his favor. It didn't necessarily give Patryk the upper-hand, but it had been another thing they could take away from that fucker.  It was now laying in the snow next to him, leaving Patryk shirtless, as the first thing he'd done as soon as the fight was over was take the shit off.

About thirty feet away, Roshan squatted down, sucking in air as quickly as he could get it. Vampires had always been pretty low on the rung, but Rajz had been... something else entirely. He was supernaturally strong - like, more than normal. He'd been glad that he hadn't agreed to let them dose him with that junk blood to lure Rajz into taking a bite, because he could see it going one of two ways, and neither of them were good for him. Still, he was adrenalized in a way he'd never felt before. He'd killed before, but never - like that.

"So what... what do you do with them after you kill them, usually?" he asked, his voice still shaky.

"Usually?" Stefan asked. He looked a little worse for wear, but he wasn't showing any signs of duress - more like, irritation. "Cut the heads off, burn the bodies. I mean, you already ripped his off, though, so I'd say we're making good time."

"I'm sorry, should I have let him continue whaling on you?" Roshan asked, a hand up at Stefan's tone. "It isn't like I wanted to. I just - I don't know. Reacted."

"Hell of a reaction, kid," Stefan said, clicking his tongue.

"I'm literally like, five times your age, dude," Roshan said, his voice tired.

They walked to where Timozel's body was, Patryk having gone to retrieve something from the back of the SUV. Unlike Stefan, Patryk looked like he'd received some battle damage. But also unlike Stefan, he didn't seem irritated. He seemed... like he was in his element. He glanced over at Roshan, a grin on his face.

  "Dude, where is your shirt?" Roshan demanded.

"You know what they call me?" he asked, wiping his bloodied face with the back of his hand like a child smearing chocolate on his face, ignoring Roshan's question.

"Oh, god, here we go," Stefan said, rolling his eyes. "I'll leave you two to your... devices," he said, his voice dripping with distaste. He turned, illuminated by the headlights, and walked back towards the vehicle.

"No, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me," Roshan said, rocking to his feet. He walked over to where Patryk was though, hating to admit he was a little curious. The man crouched down over Timozel's body. "Jesus," he said. "You fucking splattered this dude."

Patryk glanced up, grinning. "He almost splattered me," he admitted. "But, thanks to your little vial of fairy dust, tipped that scale. Stefan threw it right in his mouth when he was yelling. I wanted to laugh, but there was no time."

"Well, you took off your clothes and howled into the snow right after, so, I guess it worked out," Roshan said. He knelt down on the other side of the body. "I know I'm gonna fucking hate myself for this, but... what do they call you?" he asked flatly. He saw Patryk take out a pair of pliers and nearly shat. "Whoa, man. I was just kidding about the Mengele stuff earlier," he rushed.

"They call me," Patryk said, ignoring Roshan's sudden case of motor-mouth as he "whoa whoa whoa'd" him, and thrust the pliers into the dead vampire's mouth, taking hold firmly of a fang. "The Dentist. And do you know why?" he asked, giving a hard yank.

"Oh, god," Roshan said, squinting. "Because you pull out their teeth like a creepy serial killer who keeps trophies?"

"You know, Roshan, pulling his fangs out as a trinket for the man whose family he ordered killed is a far cry from removing his head with my bare hands," Patryk said, gesturing with the tool that held a tooth firmly in its grasp. "And anyways, I thought you had a sword," he said, making a face as he went for the second fang.

"I do," Roshan said hotly. "I just... didn't bring it."

He glanced up as Stefan walked by them, muttering something that Roshan didn't quite make out but sounded an awful lot like, "And I'm the actual Nazi," and casually squirting lighter fluid on the body as he passed. "Hurry up, Dentist. Don't want to keep Justin waiting," he said, making his way through the snow to the other, headless, body.

"You think he wants Rajz's head?" Patryk asked, glancing up. It was a serious question.

"No, Patryk, I do not think he wants Rajz's head," Stefan replied, his back to them. The bottle made a sound as he squeezed it harshly.

"Do you want it?" he said, looking at Roshan.

"I really don't," Roshan said.

"Suit yourself," the bloodied vampire said, standing and dusting the snow off of himself. He looked down at the dead vampire for a long moment in silence, and Roshan opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it, and closed it. He didn't need to use his fairy sense to get the impression that something way more serious was occurring in the silence than he'd initially thought. Patryk glanced up to Stefan. "I'll burn this one," he said, and Roshan got the impression he should walk away, so he did.

"Hey man, what's up with that?" Roshan asked, walking next to Stefan as the vampire looked around for the discarded head. "Here, let me... I think I threw it over here," he said, jogging to the woodline to retrieve the, ugh, discarded head. "Yeah, it's... I found it," he called, waving him over.

"Just kick it," Stefan called back.

"You want me to what?"

"Kick it! Like a football. Or, soccer ball. Like a fucking ball, just kick it to me," he said, his voice growing more irritated by the minute. He sounded like a parent telling their child how to complete a simple task. "Do you want to kick it or pick it up, kid?" he demanded, dropping his hands by his side, looking more the part of the frustrated parent now.

Roshan kicked the head over to Stefan, hard, but was completely not surprised when the vampire stepped out with his foot and stopped it. He looked up at the sky and pretended he didn't here the sound that came after. When he looked back down, Stefan was right in front of him, and caused him to jump back, letting out a yell. "Dude!" he yelled.

"You did good work out here, tonight. I know you don't think much of vampire business; in fact, I get the impression you'd have stayed out of it entirely if Patryk hadn't tricked you - "

"Convinced me, " Roshan cut in.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, kid," Stefan said. "Either way."

Roshan laughed a little. "You don't think I'm a kill stealing jackass?" he challenged, brow raised.

"Kill-stealing - you play way too much Call of Duty," Stefan said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah? Because I get the impression that if I'd have jumped in on ol' Timo there, Patryk would have skewered me right along with him," he said, nodding to where the other vampire stood. Stefan turned to look, and they both watched as Patryk stood silently over the burning body, bloody fist clenched tightly around the teeth he'd retrieved.

"That..." Stefan said, lowering his head. "That is a man who is on the extinction list, and two closer to zero, thanks to Timozel's decision-making."

"Is that why he's so.... intense?" Roshan asked. He knew he smelled something strange about him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. And, he hadn't seen him shift at all, because he'd been too busy... yeah.

"Huh? Oh, no, he's always been that way. Long as I've known him, anyways. Still... I hope this brings him peace."

"I've been alive a really, really long time, man," Roshan said, his voice lacking the usual attitude. "And I'm here to tell you... it usually doesn't."

Stefan smiled at him, and there was something serene on his face. "Not for all of us," he agreed. He reached out, patting Roshan on the shoulder. "But for some." He ignored the face Roshan made at the sudden touching moment. "Now, come on. Let's get out of here and get cleaned up. Your hands are filthy, you know that? Well, that's what happens, I guess, when you rip someone's head off," he said with a chuckle.

"God, don't remind me," the Fae muttered. He put his hand to his mouth, cupping it to shout. "Patryk, put on your fucking shirt!"

Patryk wasn't one for waiting around, and he'd given the contact until he finished the cigarette before he was heading back to the hotel. Stefan said he couldn't vouch for the legitimacy of whoever the person was, but he said that he'd heard the name 'around', and knew the person might be inclined to help him. The other vampire had gone out to get some supplies - what, Patryk didn't ask, but he was under the impression that the two were of one mind about what was to come next. So here he stood, in the dead of winter in Berlin, leaning against a broken street light at the building across from a warehouse that had been turned into a club. The loud thud-thud-thud of music practically shook the air immediately outside it, and his mind wandered to different times.

"Gross, doesn't that shit bother your like, animal side, or whatever?" a voice said, genuinely startling Patryk, who prided himself on being situationally aware.

To his credit, he didn't whip around like he wanted to, instead turning slowly, and giving the man who spoke a quick up and down. Fae. He could smell it on him. Old, too, but he couldn't tell how very. With Fae, it was hard to tell, so he treated them all like they were dangerous, because typically, they were. He'd been smart enough to approach him from the back, which suggested he'd been sizing the vampire up before he said anything at all. Smart.

"No," he said, and didn't offer anything further. Instead, he flicked it at the Fae, for the folly of getting the drop on him.

"Hey!" Roshan snapped, smacking the cigarette but away. He ignored the sting on his hand, and it faded as quickly as it came. "Alright, asshole, I came here because I was told you needed some help, but clearly you've got it all worked out, whatever it is you're up to, so I'll just leave you to it." He straightened the dark blue button-down shirt he wore, rolling his eyes and turning around. "Fucking vampires," he hissed, stepping off the sidewalk and stepping into the slush on the street, headed towards the front of the club. "All the goddamn same."

"So temperamental," Patryk teased. "Silly Fae. All the same."

Roshan said something awful in his native tongue, then turned. He smiled at the vampire, but it did not meet his eyes, and it was clearly insincere. "Psychological warfare, that's new. Usually you guys just try to knock me around and get a bite."

"Is that right?" Patryk said, brow arching. Something the Fae said had given him an idea, but he didn't ruminate on it. He pushed off of the post, uncrossing his arms. "Heard two in particular have been giving you a really good knocking around, lately. Know anything about that? Don't worry," he said, holding a hand up preemptively. "I'm not a friend. Not to them."

"Yeah, not to me either, I'm sure," he said under his breath. "And, man, fuck those guys," Roshan said, waving a hand. "Ever since Midnight fell over there, shit has been crazy here. When a little birdie got back to me and said there might be some folks coming through to handle the issue, I thought I'd offer my services. But, I can tell from looking at you that you're just as psychotic as they are, though, I'd take a trebuchet launching flaming boulders at me over those assholes killing all my customers and trying to turn me into a quarter pounder." He thrust his hands into the pockets of his trousers, shrugging.

Patryk rolled his eyes. "Why are Fae so dramatic?" he muttered. "I think we can use your services, particularly because I heard a rumour you have something that might fuck up magic ability."

Roshan made a face, but he was interested. "I might," he said, stepping out of the street and back onto the sidewalk. He still kept a healthy distance from the vampire. "But that's pretty vague." He glanced around, then looked back at Patryk, dropping his voice. "What exactly do you need it to do?"

The vampire studied him for a second, and then understood that he was offering to make something specific, without saying as much. "It needs to be able to neutralize that ice scheisse that Timozel can do. Can you do it?"

The Fae sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. "God, you're gonna get me fuckin' killed, aren't you?" he said.

"So that's a yes," Patryk replied.

"Yeah. Yes. Yes, I can make something like that. There are some limitations, but - "

"Good. You can tell me about them on the way," Patryk said, taking his arm firmly. He made to phase out, but immediately phased back in, feeling like he'd been kicked squarely in the gut. He let Roshan go in order to catch himself on the icy sidewalk, falling and making an undignified wretching noise.

"Oh, yeah," Roshan said, laughing a little. "You can't just, uh, grab one of my kind and try to do the vanishing thing. We're like fuckin' anchors, man. If we don't wanna go, we're not going." He paused, watching Patryk. "Man, you do not deal with Fae a lot, do you bud? Hey, looks like I found one of your limitations, speaking of."

Patryk made to wretch again, still dry heaving. "You could have warned me first," he snarled, pushing up off the sidewalk, only to double over as another wave hit him. "Fucking pest," he spat.

"Yeah... I could have," Roshan agreed. "Anyways, no offense, but I'm not going to go anywhere with you. I'll meet you in two days, back here. In the meantime, don't just go around grabbing strange men in Germany, dude. It's weird, and frankly, your whole - " Roshan waved his hands around at Patryk, who was finally upright again, "like, scary Waffen-SS thing, it's super off-putting."

"Waffen-SS," Patryk exclaimed, brows going up as his voice rose in shock.

"Yeah, man! Tall, blonde, scary, long dark coat?" Roshan snapped, heading back across the street. "You're not personable!" He disappeared into the club, the thud thud thud drowning out whatever he yelled out as the door swung shut.

"Jesus," Patryk said, preparing to phase again. "You are really not going to like my partner." And with a small chuckle and a shake of his head towards the disbelief of the situation in which he existed currently, he was gone.

Patryk sipped the beer, hazel eyes combing the crowd in the somewhat dim room. Holiday parties weren't exactly his scene, but he agreed with Christian that he needed to be seen more. For one, it was a symbol of strength for Frost, and two, it was personal that they made a good showing of not being crippled by the losses in their families, however distant it was for Patryk. He had always considered himself scarce, but the reality that his species was dwindling into near-extinction now was a cold truth, and one that was a little more present in his thoughts than it had been before. He wasn't old by any stretch of the imagination, especially when standing in a room with Tristes who had been around long enough to have met Jesus (maybe, he wasn't sure, but he suspected someone there had been), but Patryk had a way about him that was uncommon for younger vampires. It was reminiscent of the one who had recently left Midnight, Stefan, though he didn't know that. But still, Patryk had gained ground as a heavyweight all the same, and he could sense the questions others had when they were introduced to him, all the while with his own echoing thoughts in his head about how rarity made prices on their heads higher.

He caught a familiar face in Capricia, and nodded to her, turning and pretending he didn't see her wave him over. Honestly, he understood that they needed to interact with everyone, but he was still coming off of his own adventures. He'd left after Christian had, and though he had been checking up on him periodically, he'd been doing some work of his own, too. Axel was the only one that really knew what he'd been up to - not that he knew any details, himself - it was more so there was some accountability in the event that things at Frost went sideways again. Fortunately, they hadn't. Unfortunately, things had gone sideways everywhere else, and Patryk found himself putting together 'The Bacchus Problem' along with 'The Phoenix Problem' and 'The Fae Problem'. Fae problems he knew, but the other two were news to him. And these were just the ones that had been big enough they'd gotten names. There were still smaller bombs dropping left and right.

Patryk wasn't one to get overwhelmed, but there was almost too much happening. He felt the noise start to go quiet as his brain just automatically began tuning everything around him out, a response to overstimulation that vampires got pretty much from day one, but just before it all tapered down to a soft hum, he heard someone exclaim his name and felt the sensation of a hand clapping on his shoulder. He turned, slowly (he thought), but it still came off as sudden. Fortunately, Axel was used to it.

"There you are," he said. The man fixed his blue eyes on Patryk, brows furrowed for a moment. It was like he had a sixth sense about his hunters. "Come over to the balcony, have a drink with us and get some fresh air," he offered. When Patryk held up his empty bottle, Axel shook his head. "Oh, we've got plenty. Come on, follow me."

Wordlessly, Patryk followed him to the large patio outside, taking a pause to appreciate how much more slowly things were moving there. He noticed that the handful of people out there weren't even bundled up, and it dawned on him that it was unusually warm for December. He snorted to himself, laughing at something nobody else could see. He'd been in Germany two days prior, digging his SUV out of the snow angrily. What a change.

"Patryk, you've met my daughter, Heidi, and her boyfriend, Russell," Axel said, gesturing to the good-looking couple.

"Of course, though it's been a while," he admitted, giving a nod to them.

"Hey, man, long time," another voice chimed in, coming to stand at the high-top. Jared Bastian held his hand out, and Patryk took it firmly. "When did you get back?" He ignored the brevity with which Patryk spoke. The vampire had always been like that, honestly.

"Oh, I've been around for a while now," Patryk said. "Few weeks, at least." He paused, eyes flicking to a blonde that stood slightly behind Jared, looking at her phone. "Who's your friend?"

"Ah, this is Amber," he said, stepping away and forcing her forward. "Amber, Patryk Verona," he said.

Vampire, Patryk could see that immediately. But she had a strange energy about her, like she was not quite right somehow. It wasn't the vampire in him that sensed this, either, it was all the cat. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he took her hand all the same. "Nice to meet you," he said, and though his voice sounded casual, it held attention and lacked sincerity.

"Your name sounds like a character from a storybook," she said, tilting her head at him. She laughed a little, then took an offered glass of champagne from Jared.

"Does it?" he asked, raising his brows.

"It's better than his nickname," Heidi said, wrestling a lighter away from Russell, who proudly proclaimed that he didn't need it anyways, and proceeded to set something on fire with no perceived source. Whatever it was got promptly smacked out of his hand by Axel, who said something sternly. The three of them began some heated debate that Patryk tuned out.

"Where's your accent from?" Amber asked, before Heidi's question fully registered. "What's your nickname?"

"My, full of questions, your friend is, Bastian," Patryk said. Jared only offered a shrug in return.

"Say I'm new," Amber suggested, shrugging. He put her at at least a hundred, but it was a soft hundred.

"You don't seem new," he challenged. They stared at eachother for a long moment.

"Don't steal my date," Jared warned, putting a hand between them. He was only kidding, but he also wanted to get a sense of whatever tension he was feeling - and it was all from Patryk's side, apparently. Dude just didn't like people in his space.

"He's not," Amber said, again, laughing. "Don't be so serious, Jared. And anyways, where's Ryan? Don't forget to tell him you annihilated his trivia record," she reminded. It was like a light went off in Jared's head, and he blinked.

"Oh shit, I do have to go gloat. I'll be right back," he said, turning on a heel. He spun back around, pointing at them both. "Be nice," he warned, though the warning was solely to Patryk, and they both knew it.

"So what's your nickname?" Amber asked again. She tilted her head, waiting for an answer, and studied him with her large doe-like eyes. She was all angles, like some sort of creature. She looked Fae, but she definitely wasn't.

"What's your bloodline?" Patryk asked back, voice smooth. He'd pinned down what that scent was, finally.

"You first," she said simply, and raised her glass to her lips, taking a long sip. She never took her eyes off of him, and though it was aimed to look unsettling, Patryk wasn't moved to any degree.

"The Dentist," he replied.

"Pandora," she said in return.

Patryk opened his mouth to call absolute bullshit, but she held her hand up.

"Jared's the only other one I've seen around here, and I'm helping keep him on the straight and narrow. You guys don't know the ins and outs," she said sharply. "Well, you might, but hunters typically don't. So. I'm a Pandora as far as anyone who isn't us is concerned. My job is just making sure he knows his limits," she finished. He could see that she wasn't lying about that, at least, especially by the way her posture changed when she confided in him.

"Okay," Patryk nodded. "Any more of you I see, I kill," he warned. "I know where you come from. Not dealing with that shit again." And he was serious.

"Ah," Amber said, as though she suddenly understood more of the picture. "That explains the accent."

"A fucking infection is what you are," he said, his voice dropping an octave, but still that smooth tone.

"Well, maybe if you could go back in time and undo a blood curse, we'd all be better off. But, Mr. Dentist, I'm going to guess time travel isn't your superpower, so let's just - " she advised, waving her hand in a gesture that clearly meant for him to bring it down. "Good to see you're from the old country, though," she said sarcastically.

There was another long moment of silence between them as they stood, watching Axel, Heidi, Russell, and a handful of other newcomers on the balcony laughing and joking and carrying on about with the goal in mind to have one night with no worry. Axel had made eye contact with Patryk briefly over his daughter's head, and he'd received a nod that told him the man was good where he was for the moment. Finally, Amber opened her mouth again. "So, why do they call you the Dentist?" she prompted, turning to look at him.

"You're better off not knowing," Patryk said, and she got the impression that it was his honest answer. "Look, here's Jared. And Ryan. Try not to eat him," he said darkly, glancing at her.

"Gross," Amber said. "I'm a vegetarian." When Patryk gave her a blank stare, she rolled her eyes. "Heidi's a little more my type," she said, her expression clearly exasperated.

"Don't eat her, either, then," he said sharply, pushing off of the table and leaving her there to roll her eyes again. He held his hand out to Ryan in greeting, who he'd somehow missed seeing all night until just now. "Hey man," he acknowledged. "Let's go find Capri and Connor. I want you to stand next to him super close so he has to look up to talk to you," Patryk said, causing Ryan to choke on his drink as he stifled a laugh.