The night ticked slowly by as Thomas perused the library for a few minutes. Long enough for all the little ones to scurry along. To the untrained eye Thomas was merely looking at books when in reality he was testing the air for new scents. On his trips away from London they would acquire new members from time to time and it was always fun to follow up on the interesting scents. Striding past the stairs to the attic he picked up a more or less familiar scent, Burek, the german Vampiress. He could never remember the mad ones name. Continuing along he continued to scent: huckleberry, vanilla, vinegar, cinnamon. He stopped. That was a new one. 

Backtracking to the bookshelves Thomas investigated. The scent was thickest here. Fascinating. This was a new one and something totally unique. At Least as much as he could remember this scent was unique. [i]Do I investigate the nest? or Do I investigate the trail…[/i] Decisions, decisions, decisions. Thomas considered before he walked back and picked up his cane and scarf. Wrapping the scarf he walked out of the front of the apothecary. Carriage or no carriage? No carriage, it was easier to track on foot and besides the trail was running cold and it was easier to move quickly on foot to adjust accordingly. 

With that Thomas disappeared into the night, time for a hunt. London was always a fun place to track; easier than Istanbul and Shanghai but still fun. 

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The red light district. Thomas stood on a rooftop inhaling slowly; taking in the surroundings as he continued to trail the new smell. He’d taken one of the books from the shelves where the scent was strongest. Inhaling again he scented once again. There it was, in the street headed towards a high class whore house? Interesting. “The plot thickens…” With a hop he fell the three stories to the street. Landing in a light crouch he swept into the street tilting his head to scent more. Still there...wait...that was something else there. [i]Burek.[/i] Unbidden the image of the mad german swept into his mind, while hardly an unpleasant image the thought of the personality he knew was hidden underneath. 

Stalking towards the door Thomas finally noticed the figure outside the door which confirmed his suspicions about the whole investigations. It was the working corpse that followed the Mad One around. Thomas seriously doubted that this individual had the mental capacity to remember him but at the same time it was always possible he did. No matter. Thomas pulled the scarf up over his lower face and walked towards the door. Gliding past Greg like a night breeze. 

It felt good to be this old and an infected, it had its perks. 

Cabaret Voltaire, hardly his usual haunt but the crest on his overcoat made people generally step aside; after all his family line was over 700 years old. Thomas snickered at that. It was amazing that no one had noticed that the heirs looked so much alike. Thomas had made sure to sufficiently change his appearance over the years, slowly greying his hair and receding from the public eye before re emerging as the new heir of the Craven family name. It was always fun to change like that. The mannerisms of course had to change as well which was always more of a pain. That and every time a damned monarch changed he had to relearn that too. Which also meant that slip ups like “Old Richard” were out as well; the repetitive names didn’t help either. 

Finding himself a seat he inhaled slowly, oh yes. All the scents were here too. Scanning the crowd he positioned himself well away from other patrons, and with a clear view of the whole room. It was becoming difficult to pick out the scent of cinnamon with the scent of sex and all the living singing blood in the room. Thomas watched as one of the dressed up whores was lead off the block; two hundred pounds was not bad at all.

The next girl that the proprietor introduced was wholly out of place. The scent of cinnamon rolling off her was overwhelming. Thomas’ eyes narrowed at this discovery. Then they narrowed further as he could just barely pick out the edges of what appeared to be a brand on her neck. Then the bidding started. Ten, fifteen. The girl was fidgeting, Thomas could all but hear her heartbeat and see her squirm and sweat. [i]You wanted to know and you have your answer, planning on doing anything fun?[/i]

[color=blue]Two hundred and fifty pounds.[/color]

The room went dead silent at the sound of Sir Craven’s inticing and yet frightening voice ringing out with an outrageous amount for the girl. Heads turned to look at the bidder only to meet ice blue eyes, catch the crest on his lapel before turning away. No one wanted to get involved with the House of Craven, there were strange rumors, no one wanted to find out the truth. Thomas sat back with a wolfish smile on his face. Now time to see exactly who had appeared in his absence over the last decade. Who was this girl, why was she here and why was the Mad One here

[@Viciousmarrow] [@lovely complex] [@BlackPanther]