The half-built apartment complex did not look like a place someone would be using as an underworld hideout. It was just…empty. At least, it appeared that way. Arthur had passed by many of them before, big frames of concrete and wood that the construction crews never seemed to actually be working on until you passed by one day and there was a brand new building there. But for most of the time they just seemed like big, empty spaces. Even in this case, knowing there were murderous vampires crawling all up and down the building, this one just came across as another big, empty space. Arthur and Saint were both studying the building from far away. Arthur didn’t know what Saint was thinking, but he himself was having trouble concentrating. It wasn’t so much that he was still drunk of hungover, but his body was exhausted from the night before and begging for rest. That, on top of the fact that this was Arthur’s plan in the first place, left him with a sense of calm. Of confidence. The plan was crazy, but it would work.

  Arthur chuckled to himself. He wondered if he really had changed. Normally he’d be nervous, tapping away or thinking about all the ways he would die here. But instead, he just felt good. He had plenty of experience dealing with vampires now, as well as your average dangerous psychopath. They could do this.

  Saint had been on the phone as they were observing, and finally hung up. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  Saint got out of the car and dragged Arthur out of it, placing handcuffs around his wrists in front of him. Arthur didn’t have any obvious wounds, but his boots and clothing were muddied and dirty like he’d been running away from something. At Saint’s suggestions they’d decided to make Arthur look the part. A vampires heightened perception, especially one as cunning as Persephone, would immediately notice the small details. So they needed everything to look as real as possible.

  They began walking towards the building, Saint striding just behind Arthur every so often poking him in the back with the barrel of his gun. Even that wasn’t causing Arthur to get anxious, despite knowing the gun was loaded. He knew Saint could handle himself, and he knew this was all for show. All he really had to worry about was if Persephone would buy it.

  The two of them already knew there was only one way in, the front gate. The fencing around the rest of the property was about eight feet high and they weren’t trying to spook the Ferals inside by coming in from some awkward angle. The building itself was eight stories built up so far, only the first few with any kind of walls or structure. Everything was bare bones, but the lower floors could protect from the outside elements. There didn’t seem to be any kind of actual wiring or piping running through just yet. Everything above that resembled a concrete jungle of pillars and beams. Arthur swore he could see the faintest of movement on the upper floors of the building, but it was too far and too dark to make out anything conclusive.

  “They see us,” Saint muttered under his breath.

  Arthur didn’t say anything. The ground underneath them turned from pavement to the crunch of gravel and sand of the construction site, and they had to avoid various piles of garbage and debris that had been left to sit since the construction contract got pulled. Just like they had figured, this place would be extremely difficult to get into unnoticed, and extremely difficult to get out of if anything went wrong. Too many floors and only a few staircases. The two of them stopped at the front gate, which was closed, but not seemingly locked. Arthur just kept his head down, and Saint poked around the gate, all the while keeping his gun trained on Arthur for effect. There didn’t seem to be any kind of gate guard present, until Saint went to press his hand on the gate to see if the lock was maybe left open. Out of the shadows, seemingly having been there the whole time, a figure emerged.

  He was gaunt, with a scraggly beard and greasy looking hair. He wore ragged, torn clothing but visibly kept a large knife strapped to his hip. The man stared at the two of them with that orange glint in his eyes.

  “What the fuck do you want?” He snarled. He either didn’t notice the handcuffs and gun, or didn’t care.

  “I’m here with a gift. For your queen,” Saint said in a mocking tone. Arthur knew Saint probably wouldn’t be able to keep all his feelings about Persephone in check. But it probably helped, no need to pretend they were friends.

  “My what?”

  Saint rolled his eyes, “Your leader, dipshit. Persephone.”

  The man snickered like a hyena. He wasn’t even attempting to hide his fangs like most vampires did. He seemed more animalistic. Untrained, unskilled. Probably unwashed, too. Everything about him reeked of a deep incompetence that was only backed by a vicious disposition, one that meant he was willing to do what others weren’t. That he didn’t care how others perceived him, all that mattered is what he wanted.

  Arthur had met normal humans that were similar, but usually still had a degree of dignity and self preservation. But this person didn’t, and some part of Arthur was disgusted by that. All the vampires he knew were well put together, polite, and driven. Professional on the outside, killers on the inside. This person was just a mangy killer. He could see why they would be good cannon fodder. He could see why a maniac like Persephone was willing to use them.

  “Who is that?” the man asked, nodding at Arthur.

  Saint raised an eyebrow, “Arthur Rowe? The human who killed Persephone’s sire? Come on man are you totally useless or what?”

  The man just stared, no hint of any kind of intelligence or recognition behind his eyes. “Huh,” was all he said.

  “Jesus. Look, this person here is very important to your boss. Take us to her.”

  The man just continued to stare. “Who’re you?”

  “Santiago. Flores. She’ll know. Just fucking go.”

  It was clear the Feral wasn’t registering most if any of this. Whatever was…wrong, with this person, clearly inhibited his capability to understand the finer points of the game that was being played. Saint clearly noticed that too as the Feral continued to stand there, looking like he was barely present.

  Saint’s hand shot out lightning fast and snagged the mans collar through the fence, forcefully yanking him into it. “Look you fucking asshole, go find Persephone. NOW. Tell her who I brought, and maybe she won’t rip your head off for being such a dumbass!”

  Saint let go and the man stumbled a foot back, teeth bared, finally having been woken up from what half-awake state he was in. His fangs were bared, and Arthur saw his nails were more like sharp claws. But after a moment, the Feral just began to cackle in their faces, before disappearing into the darkness.

  “What a fucking idiot. Maybe I overestimated her,” Saint mused.

  Arthur didn’t say anything. Just kept playing the part of the confused, scared prisoner. They waited for nearly ten minutes until finally the Feral returned, this time with another. This second person was much more well dressed and taken care of. He looked nothing like a Feral, but more like a Soldado, maybe. He wore a full suit, small glasses, and his hair was combed and gelled. He gave Arthur and Saint a look over, suspicion in his eyes as he tried to determine exactly what all this was about. Clearly the Feral hadn’t passed the message well enough.

  “You’re Santiago Flores,” he said in a quiet, composed tone. Arthur caught a hint of yet another European accent, wondering how many Vampires were originally even from America.

  “That’s right. And this is Arthur Rowe. We want to talk to Persephone.”

  “Why?” the man asked bluntly. “You took a big risk coming here.”

  “That’s right. The people I work for want this whole thing to end. They know what Persephone wants, and we’re just trying to keep the peace. If one stupid human is all it takes, that’s fine by us.”

  The main raised an eyebrow at him. Arthur muttered something about being called stupid and Saint roughly cracked him across the face. Arthur gasped as his lip split and blood spattered across his shirt. That wasn’t something they had discussed before him, but he restrained himself from saying anything that would blow their cover. But it apparently helped.

  The man stared at Arthur, then nodded at Saint. “You, walk in front. Any sudden movements and they’ll rip you to pieces,” the man said. Arthur just now noticed that there were three of the Ferals all standing obscured by shadow, who had just now made their presence known. Altogether their stench was much more prominent, some variety mixture of terrible scents Arthur couldn’t quite distinguish.

  The man opened up the gate and let them walk in. Immediately the three Ferals surrounded them like hungry dogs, eyeing them like fresh meat. The other man began to direct them, pointing them in the direction of the building. Although there were walls and ceilings implemented here, the building was still completely empty as they’d guessed. On the first floor there were about six more of the Ferals, standing guard at various points of entry and egress. They were lazing around, sitting in folding chairs, picking their teeth, watching videos on a TV they’d brought in and stood up on some cinder blocks, powered by a small generator. In the middle of the room was a table completely blood stained, and what looked like a fresh corpse torn to pieces on top of it.

  Apparently they had just eaten. Arthur grimaced. His disdain towards these people grew even more, and even more he felt that not only they were doing the right thing, but he wanted to actively remove these people from society. Even if it was just vampiric society, their actions and consequences still spread into the normal world and the longer people like this were around, the longer normal humans would fall prey to them.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  As they made their way to a set of stairs, all of the floors going up were more of the same. More Ferals, more bodies, more disgusting and appalling living arrangements with ratty mattresses and makeshift black tarp walls that had been taped up on the sides of the building to prevent sunlight from coming in. The entire place felt like some sort of disgusting slaughterhouse that hadn’t been inspected by anyone official, ever. And as far as they knew, the Ferals had only been here for a few months. This was all temporary. Arthur shuddered to think what their more permanent living situations were like, if they even had one.

  As they reached the fourth floor, the man directed them off the stairs into the main structure again. This floor was much cleaner, with numerous tables, desks, chairs, a few actual coffins made from wood, something he thought was just a cliche. Arthur figured some vampires liked the traditional things. There were even some rugs and nicer furnishings, as well as other electrical devices plugged into surge protectors with long running wires. It was just the necessities, and very obviously temporary, but still a fairly impressive operation for what it was. As Arthur was looking around, he heard a very, very familiar voice he hadn’t heard in a long, long time.

  “Ah, so it’s true.”

  When she spoke, she commanded the room. All of the Ferals went silent, slinking nearby in the shadows with bated breath. Her own men, the ones wearing the nicer clothing, stood silently too. They didn’t stand too close to her, but close enough that if anything happened they could spring into action. Persephone herself looked more or less the same as she did some time ago. Short cut bob, form fitting, professional business clothing that came across as a little more masculine than feminine. Tall, thin, sharp face that was marred by a permanent scowl.

  It was easy to see why she was able to draw such respect from humans. And Arthur didn’t really want to find out what sort of vampiric powers she had to command a bunch of vampires like this lurking under her cool exterior. Whatever it was, it was enough to get a gang of hooligan Ferals and her own people to work together seamlessly. Maybe she didn’t even need supernatural tricks, because her stony glare at Arthur was enough to make him want to slink into the shadows as well. Instead, he nervously glanced at Saint, hoping he had already sent whatever signal he needed in order to start the attack. They wouldn’t know until the very last moments of the plan, because all of Saints crew were using weapons that wouldn’t make any indication of an attack; small calibre weapons with suppressors, knives, knuckles those sorts of things. Saint looked calm and composed as usual so it was difficult to tell.

  “You must be Persephone,” he said. “And you must know who I am.”

  Persephone studied him before replying. Her voice was calm, with the thinnest layer of venom underneath. “Indeed. Yet I don’t know who you represent. You claim this is coming from Bartolome Strissa?”

  Arthur’s eyes furrowed, How did she not know?

  Saint nodded, keeping a grip on one of Arthur’s arms. “That’s right.”

  Without missing a beat she said, “If that’s the case, then why didn’t he come here himself instead of sending you? Clearly this is important to him.”

  “What makes you think this is enough to warrant his attention? I don’t know how it works for you, but he trusts his people, and so here I am. If you refuse to talk to me, this isn’t going to work.”

  “So you say,” she replied. “Yet, I’m not convinced. In fact, this entire thing is fishy.

  The only reason I let you up here is because you can’t be stupid enough to try to attack us in a stronghold like this. In fact, I think it would behoove me to tear your throat out and make him watch, before drinking his blood,” she said, indicating Arthur.

  Arthur swallowed. Saint sighed, “You could. You could also risk the wrath of the Bartolome. And if you know anything about anything, which it seems like you do, you know he casts long shadows over Longely. You might even elude him for a while. Slip through unseen as you have been for the past year. Leave the city, call on contacts, go elsewhere. But he’s not one who forgets, I can guarantee that. He will hound you, forever. You will live the rest of your dead life looking over your shoulder. Personally, not something I’d want to deal with.” Saint shrugged.

  Persephone snorted, flicking her hair with a hand. “I could care less about what you want, or your idle threats. You see, I think your master doesn’t actually trust you that much at all, otherwise you probably wouldn’t be here.”

  “Why’s that?”

  A wicked grin crept across her face, “Because if he did tell you anything, you’d know you’re fucking with the wrong people. No matter what happens here tonight, you aren’t getting out of this cleanly.”

  “What?” Arthur asked. Persephone raised an eyebrow. Arthur grimaced, half expecting Saint to hit him again, but it seemed like Saint was as confused as he was at this point.

  “Oh? You were unaware?” Persephone said with a sly grin. “Looks like they’ve been keeping you in the dark, unsurprisingly. See, Bartolome isn’t actually a real authority here in Longley. In fact, his relationship with the people who are in authority isn’t so good. He, and by extension you,” she said, motioning to Saint, “Are here on leash. And as it turns out, that leash is getting shorter every day. So you’re either desperate as hell, or something else is going on.”

  Arthur shook his head, “I, I don’t understand.”

  This time Saint did hit him again, harder than the last time. Blood spattered across the concrete floor, causing almost all eyes in the room to lock onto Arthur. However, the only thing Arthur was interested in was that right before he got hit, Persephone had made some sort of expression he couldn’t read.

  Saint spoke now, his voice still cool. “Look, the fact of the matter is that I’m here now. Whether you believe Bartolome sent me is irrelevant. What we want is to make it very, very clear that we don’t want any problems while we’re here, and this is how we’re doing it.”

  Persephone raised an eyebrow, “While you’re here? From what I understand, you should be long gone by now.”

  It took Saint half a second too long to answer. Arthur realized that if their cover wasn’t already blown, it was going to be blown very quickly. What Arthur also was trying to figure out was what Persephone had just asked. Why were the Soldado’s still here? He looked at Saint. Arthur could see his jaw was tight, gritting his teeth. At this point, he just prayed the Soldado’s were well on their way.

  Persephone snorted, shook her head. “Everything I was told about you was true. You’re always a step behind, Santiago.”

  Saint’s expression turned from concern to anger immediately. Arthur took a step away from him. He pulled at the cuffs on his wrists, unable to get any kind of leverage. He knew Saint had the key on him and would unlock him once the shooting started, but at this point he wasn’t sure they’d even make it that far.

  “Wait,” Arthur said hurriedly. “Why…why do you want to kill me? I’m not the one that killed your sire.”

  Saint glared at him, but it did was Arthur had intended, which was get Persephone’s attention.

  “Is that what you think?” Persephone pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes. She shook her head, then laughed. “Wow. You’re a bunch of fucking amateurs aren’t you?”

  Saint took one step forward, and as he did guns were already drawn. The Ferals met his stride, and Persephone’s men had small sub-machine guns held at a low ready, waiting to unload if needed. Persephone held up a hand, and all parties halted.

  “I don’t know whatever stupid game you’re playing right now, but it stops here. Believe it or not, I’m not a vindictive person, so I’ll give the both of you one single chance to walk out of here alive. And I won’t ask twice.”

  Arthur looked at Saint, who was still staring at Persephone with fury in his eyes, waiting.

  “Tell me what Bartolome Strissa is planning with Longley.”

  Saint didn’t move. He didn’t speak, didn’t reach for his gun, didn’t try anything funny. But, Arthur could see the slightest grimace had come over Saint’s face, the kind of expression that someone has only when they’ve been caught with their hand in a cookie jar. Arthur gave him a questioning look, but Saint wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

  Persephone grinned again. “I knew it. I mean really, who do you think you are?” She just shook her head, like a scolding parent disappointed in their children. “Regardless, this ends now. We’ll let Bartolome know exactly what we think of his little coup attempt by sending your head to him on a platter.”

  There was a cry from the floor below. Persephone’s head snapped in that direction, and one of her own men was already heading to check it out. Before any else could react, Saint pushed Arthur so hard he skidded across the stone floor ten feet away, clothes tearing underneath. Persephone whipped her head back to him, but Saint already had a gun out. Within seconds, the entire floor erupted into chaos.

  Saints men poured through the stairwell roaring and yelling, weapons at the ready as they charged at the Ferals and Persephone’s men. It seemed like their original assessment of potential weaponry was correct, but even with only small calibre weapons, mostly semi-automatic, a storm of gunfire erupted. Arthur looked behind him for Saint as his hands locked against the cuffs when he tried to call, but Saint was no longer where he was just standing. Arthur cursed over the gunfire, doing his best to awkwardly crawl as far away as possible from the center of the room.

  He shimmied along the floor the best he could with restrained hands, in a very inelegant manner, but wasn’t concerned about what he looked like right now. A stray bullet whizzed over his head and splintered a nearby table sending wood chips into his face. Moments later something heavy crashed into him, sending him sprawling out in pain. He groaned as he rolled over, trying to figure out what had just slammed into him. It was a Feral, hissing as he stood back up having just been thrown by someone or something into Arthur, apparently by mistake.

  Arthur didn’t spend a moment longer than he had to assessing the moment, instead turning around again and trying to squirm away. He didn’t get far, as he felt something snag his ankle.

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?!” the Feral snarled. As Arthur turned around, the vampire was dragging him back by his ankle like he was a length of rope, before lifting him up by his collar. The vampires breath was rancid and hot, his eyes bloodshot with fury.

  Arthur headbutted the creature. It hurt Arthur more than it hurt the vampire, clearly, because Arthur’s head flared in hot pain while the Feral only staggered for a moment. It didn’t even make the vampire drop Arthur, he just laughed maniacally in response. Arthur began to kick and try to beat him with his cuffed wrists. He was making contact, but the vampire’s heightened fortitude and dead flesh weren’t responding in any way that mattered. The Feral laughed a psychotic, hysterical laugh as he kept Arthur aloft with one hand. He pulled his other hand back, flattening his palm as to make his long, dirty claws into a spear, pointing them at Arthur’s heart.

  Arthur’s eyes went wide. He cried out and struggled harder, but the vampire was too strong, it felt like he was in an iron grip. Arthur yelled for Saint, praying the man would hear him and save him, only now considering how stupid it had been to cuff him in the first place. Just as the Feral pulled his elbow back to strike, the two of them went sprawling again as one of the Soldado’s tackled the Feral from behind, sending all three careening across the floor.

  Arthur fell out of the Ferals grip with the momentum, stumbling backwards quickly before losing his balance. He had no time to react, or move, only a split second realization he would have no control over his body for the next few seconds. The last thing he saw was the Soldado plunging a huge knife into the chest of the Feral, as Arthur’s momentum carried him. There was a tearing sound as Arthur fell into the tarp wall on the edge of the building, wires and debris underneath his feet tripping him. In less than a few seconds, Arthur was falling.

  The last thing he saw was the ground, four stories below, approaching fast. He didn’t even have time to scream.