[i]August 31, 2016, Wednesday Night[/i]

Her hair was a few shades too auburn for his taste but he could persuade her to change that, to dye it a rich walnut brown that liked best. The young woman’s oval face was a bit too freckled and she lacked the slight overbite that had endeared him to his late wife’s shy smile. A little too tall and thin, though he could ignore that for now, it was her eyes that drew him in. Dazzling in the sunset, hazel brown turning to gold the way he remembered. She was wearing a loose flowing skirt that fell to her knees, conservative enough but when the light shone from behind he could see the outline of her hips and slender legs through the gauzy fabric. 

Darek watched her from the shadows, waiting until the sun had finished dropping beyond the water. He could see she was relaxed, enjoying the evening breeze carrying the tang of the sea, her aura glowing around her pale as starlight. She carried a phone, ubiquitous in this decade but in her other hand she gripped a brochure like the ones they offered at hotels. A tourist. 

Sidling up to her, he rested his elbows on the pier as the leather of his jacket creaking slightly. “A storm is coming.” 

The girl snapped her head around, noticing him there and he could see her aura flicker yellow and gold with nervousness. He took what seemed to be a deep breath and projected his presence upon her. He smiled a little, a slight dimple creasing his left cheek and he raised his eyebrows just enough to seem amused but concerned. 

She started to relax, smiling a little though he could sense she was still unsettled by his sudden appearance. “What do you mean?” 

Her voice was soft and the accent southern but not local. She was looking him now and he could see her eyes, indeed they were that honey hazel that he sought after. His own grey eyes lit up with hunger and he had to force himself to not over do it and frighten her. Tilting his head, he gestured to the crimson glow of the few clouds, “Isn’t that how it goes? A red sky at night...”

“A sailor’s delight,” she answered him with a slight chuckle, “You have it backwards.” 

Darek shrugged his broad shoulders and huffed a laugh, running a hand through his thick wavy hair, “You are correct, I never was much one for sailing. I prefer to keep my feet on dry land.” 

“That must be hard if you live here,” she replied, her interest now turned fully towards him. “If you do, I mean.”

He looked her in the eyes, now turned to face her, still leaning an elbow on the wooden beam. “I do, born and raised. And do you do much sailing, wherever it is you’re from?”

It was not much of a lie, he was indeed reborn here, not too far from where he stood speaking to this girl that looked so much like Ruth. Her eyes especially and that was the hardest feature to match as his late wife had a rather unique shade of hazel. 
She laughed, tossing her auburn hair back over her shoulder, tilting her head just so that Darek’s gaze fell on her slender white throat. The graceful tendon under taut pale skin met her collarbone and he could practically see her pulse speed up. 

“You got me, I’m a tourist,” she said, fanning herself a few times with her brochure, “No, I don’t do any sailing in Nashville.”

“Ah, you are far from home. How are you liking our fair city?” he asked, bouncing his gaze from her neck to her eyes once more.

She canted her hips, reaching to twirl a lock of her long hair, “I think it’s very lovely...I’m Lauren, by the way. So what do you do?” 

He could see her aura soften to a cream color more relaxed now, but still there was that edge of apprehension which suited him just fine. “Darek. I’m an artist of sorts.”

Lauren laughed, her fingers touching her lips as if to suppress the reaction, “Let me guess, are you going to ask me to come up to your room to see your sketches?” 

Darek licked his lips slightly and grinned, “No not exactly, I’m not that kind of artist. Graphic arts, animation. Computers.”

She leaned now against the beam, tossing her hair back once more. Her interest obvious to even a casual observer let alone the vampire inhaling her scent into dead lungs. Darek met her eyes, radiating his power towards her, watching her eyes grow more luminous as she reacted.

The young woman bit her lower lip and then replied, “You don’t look like a computer nerd.”

He merely raised an eyebrow at that, “What does a computer nerd look like?”

“Uh, not like you,” Lauren blushed and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. He could see the nervousness flickering in her aura and something else. Lust. Desire. All good signs.

“Lauren, where are you staying?” he asked suddenly, his grey eyes holding her honey colored gaze.

Blinking, she looked as if she surprised herself by answering right away, “At the Marriot...why?”

Darek moved a little closer, leaning down to whisper in a low voice. He could feel her shiver as his hand brushed down her arm, “Because I hear they have terrible continental breakfasts and I can make a mean omelet.”

Lauren gaped at him, her lips opening and closing as if to protest but then she just blushed again and smiled, glancing down. He could see his effect working on her and he pushed her a little more, slipping his hand up her shoulder to brush through her reddish hair. He wondered briefly how soon he could get her to dye it.

[i]September 9th, 2016, Friday Night[/i]

Darek brushed her rich brown hair back from her neck, neatly wiping away the smear of blood left from his feeding. It had not taken more than a week to bring the girl at the docks into his life. She was enthralled, but even before she had tasted his blood she had dyed her hair to please him. She was eager and naive for a passionate love affair in the romantic city, so Darek gave her what she wanted and in turn, she surrendered all to him. 

He rose from the couch, waving her off, “I’ve got to get the gallery. Bring Sylvia along with you.”

Without a word of protest, Lauren went to fetch the other thrall. Darek adjusted his tie by feel, knowing it was straight and he put his dinner jacket on. His sire, Miss Cora Finch, always insisted on such formalities she was well known for her southern charm. The vampire grimaced at that and rubbed a hand along his jaw. He was freshly shaved as Coral liked, his thrall Sylvia had a fine hand with a straight razor. 

The two young women walked behind him as they entered the gallery, both wearing red retro style dresses, their dark hair up in neat twists with bangs framing their lovely faces. Darek spotted his sire Cora across the room, her vivid ginger hair and alabaster skin unmistakable. She wore blue tonight, never red as she claimed it clashed with her hair. 

“Darek!” she drawled, smiling her practiced charming smile as she beckoned him. She stood with a knot of men, humans as he watched their pale auras change to shades of pale yellow as he approached and he detected spikes of green as the men noticed the girls. Envy, tension, and intimidation radiated off of them as his presence was felt. 

"Gentlemen, this is Darek Birch, he is the one that donated that lovely painting done by his famous grand uncle, Dariusz Brzezcki,” Cora gushed, pulling Darek to her side by winding her arm into his. “Truly a revolutionary talent of his days, wouldn’t you say?”

The older man merely grunted and drank from his champagne glass but the younger man who wore glasses nodded and rattled off some of the usual critiques of his old art work. Darek glanced at the painting, it was one of his done in the style he had painted with during the 1950s. Bold strokes and dark hard colors, he had finished it two years ago at Cora’s insistence she needed new ‘findings’ of his art. The stark painting about the alienation of youth from war and mass culture. The tragic figure centered in the middle was a huddled young woman, screaming soundlessly surrounded by faceless humanoid figures, all turned away.

The haunting eyes were shade of golden hazel and he had to look away, focusing on the next question, “Ah, it was something I found in the attic under some oil cloths.”

A typical answer, why Dariusz Brzezcki’s new works were found every year or so. There were less and less, despite Cora nagging him to paint more. He worried that it would draw too much attention and someone would investigate the ages of the paintings, perhaps call them frauds. He wanted little for money and did not desire the attention but Cora Finch did and Darek was obliged to the vampire to do her bidding. 

“Are you two sisters or something?” the older man finally spoke, his eyes on the young women. Both were brunettes with hazel eyes, though the taller and more slender had golden brown while the shorter curvier had a tint of green. Only Darek really noticed that difference, it made it hard for him to choose between the thralls, Sylvia being shaped more like his late wife and Lauren had the right eye color. Both were beautiful and he felt a twinge of hunger just looking at them, despite his recent feeding. 

The girls shook their heads simultaneously, their long pony tails grazing pale shoulders as the light scent of lavender could be detected as they did. Darek blinked, his grey eyes darkening slightly. Ruth always wore lavender. He remembered smelling it that night on the docks, despite the stink of the bay. At that thought he struggled to maintain his presence next to Cora, his teeth grinding and the men suddenly looked at each other, their auras spiking with orange as fear shot through them. 

His sire gripped him harder, shooting him a look and her greater power soothed the men and they began to speak about prices. Of course, she was selling his painting. He held his glass of champagne but did not drink, his thralls taking small measured sips but their eyes hardly left him. 

“I think I need to step out for some air,” he said after they had finally settled on a price. Two hundred thousand dollars for a fraud. He could not help but think of it that way, the men were paying for a piece of history that was made only two years prior, even if it was by the same hand. 

Cora looked at him, “Don’t take long, they want you to sign the papers as well. Certifying the authenticity.”

He nodded and slipped out of her grip, the two thralls automatically following him. He held his hand up, “Stay, have something to eat. I need a few moments alone.”

Sylvia and Lauren halted and turned back to the buffet table where most people were gathered, nibbling on fresh exotic fruit and expensive French pastries. Darek left the gallery, passing by a knot of people smoking. He stepped out into the garden to get away from the acrid stench of cigarettes, where the night blooming jasmine scent was heavy. There was a time where he smoked, he had picked it up back in Poland, the war was hell on the nerves and even the mild comfort of nicotine had been a blessing when he could find it. Ruth did not like the smell so he had quit and now he could not inhale even if he wanted to. His head snapped around at the sound of footsteps in the gravel, his lips curled in a snarl as moonlight glinted off exposed fangs for the briefest moment.

A young woman stood before him, unperturbed by the sight of Darek and handed him an envelope. Composing himself, the vampire noticed the woman had not been at the gallery and was dressed more for a midnight sail than a cocktail party. He also noted the dull eyed lack of reaction that marked her as a thrall. 

His scalp prickled when he saw the seal and he tucked it away for later. Darek returned to the party though the curiosity over the letter burned in his mind. When the vampire returned to the party, the painting being carefully wrapped to be shipped to their law office downtown, Cora turned to him. 

“You seem distracted, darlin’,” she cooed, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “You did very well, a nice chunk of change for the gallery and everyone else. Your take will be deposited as soon as the check clears.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied automatically, his fingers curling against his palm as she touched him. “I should be going, I’ve got work to do.”

Cora laughed lightly, “Need a good night’s sleep? Stay a bit longer, I’ve missed your company.”

Unable to resist, he stayed and she drew him off to the side. Cora kissed his cheek and whispered, “You’re distracted and I want to know why.”

Darek stiffened, turning his head slightly, “No reason, I just have a project I’m falling behind on.”

“Why do you insist on playing around with those stupid games, it’s a waste of your talent. I want another painting ‘found’ by the end of the month, Darek. Give me something that will bring in big money like tonight. Why don’t you paint something about the war, people love that tragic stuff.”

He grit his teeth, his lips twitched in a smile, “I’ll see what I can do, Miss Finch.” 

“Do so,” Cora turned, her hair fiery against her royal blue gown. “I have little patience and though you are a favorite, you’ve been testing it lately. Leave off of those insipid graphics and get back to real art.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his hand slipping into the pocket of his jacket, fingering the envelope. “May I go then? I’ll need to order supplies.” 

She waved him off with a twiddle of her fingers, “Take your twins with you, I don’t like them.”

Cora wrinkled her nose in distaste at the thralls, “Doesn’t that make three now? You’ll drain yourself. Get rid of one of them.”

“Only two,” Darek corrected, his grey eyes flickering, “Maggie is gone. Remember?”

“Oh, right,” Cora exclaimed, “I forgot about that one. Got tired of her then?”

Darek merely turned his head, glancing at the two women waiting, “Something like that, I know my limits.”

“Good man,” she patted his arm, “Go on then, I’ll see you at the end of the month.”

He left quickly, eager to get away from the cloying talons of his sire. Once he was home, he locked himself in his office, the darkened room glowing from the screens of his pair computers. Sitting down, he took out the envelope, flipping it over and reading it again. Finally curiosity won over and he bit into the pad of his thumb, smearing the blood along the seal. 

[i]September 10th, 2016, Saturday Night [/i]

Darek strolled down to the warehouses, his grey eyes wary as he found the one marked DOCK 15. He was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, the sleeves snug on his biceps and lean hard chest. Turning towards the lighted area, he spotted the dull eyed thrall and a man dressed in khakis who smiled congenially at Darek. 

He waved him over, “Welcome! Come right in, please.”

Darek paused, taking in the man’s aura but it was calm and white, tinged with grey. Running hand through his dark tousled hair, he passed the thralls and stepped into the room. He looked at the woman with bleached hair, her aura prickling violet spiking out from her slender form. Darek  took a seat beside her, leaning back to stretch his long legs out. His gaze turned to the hooded vampire, his deep purple aura wrapped tightly around him almost like a shadow. There were both wary and curious, as he was. If it was some sort of setup or trap, he could not sense it from any of the people present. 

He leaned his elbows on the arms of the chair, steepling his fingers as he watched the doorway for the next arrival.