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elrhiarhodanTitle: The Blood of Helios - Vampire World Chapter IX - A Power To Make The World Tremble
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
elrhiarhodan
Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Sunlight Agent, Captain Peter Burke, Lt. Lauren Cruz, Lt. Clinton Jones, Lt. Diana Barrigan, Master Reese Hughes
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 4000
Summary: Vampire Peter, Shapeshifter El and Neal, who is something more than he ever expected to be. Chapter IX - A Power To Make the World Tremble. Neal goes one on one with Master Hughes, ends up ass over teakettle, and solves the mystery of The Dutchman.
All mistakes are mine. Feedback is adored.
Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII
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The Blood of Helios - Vampire World Chapter IX -A Power To Make The World Tremble
Appreciating the need not to appear weak or cowed by anyone, Neal looked the Whryccrid Master directly in his eyes and he felt the power roll off this ancient, ancient creature. It sucked the air out of his lungs and his heart began to stutter. It felt like he was dying. He did his best not to gasp, and as the edges of his vision turned black, he held out his hand and tried to introduce himself. He thought he heard someone chuckle and all of a sudden, that power was turned down, but not off; Neal could still feel it buzzing along his nerve endings, a strangely familiar sensation. He stood there, right hand extended, staring at a white-eyed vampire and he wondered precisely when he lost his mind. To his surprise, Hughes shook his hand and smiled. Sort of. The corners of his mouth seemed to briefly curve upwards and he nodded to Neal - quite possibly an indication of respect or acknowledgment of Neal’s utter audacity in standing up to him as an equal.
Hughes took his seat, the last one at the table and everyone sat down too, except for Neal. There wasn’t an extra chair for him and he stood there, lost and a little embarrassed. No one took pity on him and he started to make his way towards the door.
“Caffrey - go stand in the corner.” It was the Master, not Peter who gave the order.
“I can leave ... “
“Caffrey - when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed without question. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Neal went to the corner of the room where the tapestry was hung and tried to make himself unobtrusive. Someone snickered, Neal thought it was Cruz.
He listened attentively as the vampires ran through what seems to be ordinary, night-to-night business. It occurred to Neal that the Kiss was like a large corporation, and he idly wondered how it managed to operate so smoothly. He seemed to be the only Sunlight Agent, but he had to believe that there must be a whole army of vampire accountants and clerks and technicians to keep the books and maintain the systems that were required in this modern world.
Neal tried to keep his attention on the topic at hand - investing in mortgage backed securities, but it was impossible and his attention turned inevitably to the large Pre-Raphaelite tapestry that decorated the conference room. He looked at the faces of the knights in their armor and he chuckled silently to himself. The work was clearly Burne-Jones - and one that no one outside of the Kiss and this ruling cadre at ever seen, but the artist must have - at some point - met many of the cadre’s members, particularly Hughes and Peter and Jones and a few of the others whose names Neal could not recall. Then he found himself getting annoyed. The artwork - rare and precious and fragile - was showing signs of age - if not downright abuse. The heavy weaving was hanging without proper support and there were tears and separations across the top border, as well as signs of wear and neglect throughout.
Completely ignoring the discussions going on amongst the vampires, he took a legal pad from the stack sitting on the credenza under the tapestry and started sketching - marking off quadrants and noting the damage. He toed off his shoes and hopped on to furniture to get a better look at the tearing at the top, and become so involved he didn’t notice that the conversation around the table had come to a complete stop and everyone was looking at him.
“Neal - what the hell are you doing?” Peter’s voice startled him and he slipped on the smooth wood, falling first to one knee and then off of the chest, banging his shins on the edge, and then onto the floor, landing on his ass.
“Ouch, ouch...shit...ouch.” Neal rolled around in agony until someone lifted him up. He tried to walk off the bruising. This time, the laughter was obvious.
“Neal - would you mind explaining why you were climbing on the furniture?”
He sucked air through his teeth, trying to work past the sharp pain in his legs and his buttocks. “The tapestry - it’s a masterpiece and you’re abusing it. It...it needs to be repaired. At least there’s no directly light on it, so the colors haven’t faded.” He hopped from one leg to the other, in agony. He didn’t think anything was broken, but the pain was excruciating.
“Lieutenant Barrigan - see to him” That was Hughes and she obeyed immediately. She pushed Neal back, so he was leaning on the credenza and ran her hands over his legs. Something light and electric and sharp simmered within him and the pain simply disappeared.
He looked at the vampire, full of respect and wonder, and she grinned back at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah - what did you do to me?”
“Just fixed you a bit. Nothing to worry about.” She winked at him.
Peter cleared his throat. “Diana, Neal - this meeting isn’t over yet. And Neal...please pay attention.”
Diana slid back into her seat and Neal leaned against the credenza.
Hughes continued the meeting. “The last item for today is the on-going problem we have with counterfeiting. The human authorities are getting rather agitated, and I am also concerned about our failure to lock down the source of the fake Canadian currency. The bills are too good - they seem to have authentic security measures, but they are definitely made from counterfeit plates.” Hughes passed around a sealed envelope containing the suspect currency. When it got to the vampire sitting in front of Neal, she was courteous enough to offer it to him to look at. He smiled at her and took the envelope.
“Does anyone have a loupe or a magnifying glass?” Lieutenant Jones tossed him a loupe and completely oblivious to the fact that he was once again the cynosure of all of the eyes in the room, Neal walked over to a bright floor lamp to examine the fake bill. After several minutes, the silence was almost deadly, but Neal didn’t notice.
“Mr. Caffrey...do you have anything?” The irritation in the Master’s voice was palpable.
“Actually, yes. I think I know who made this counterfeit.” Now, Neal let the silence in the room work for him. He licked his lips, enjoying the drama of the moment.
“Neal, are you going to enlighten us?” This was from Peter, who seemed to be doing his best to remain nonchalant.
“It’s the Dutchman.”
“We know that.” Hughes grumbled.
“But do you know who the Dutchman is?” Neal motioned for Peter to come look at the bill.
“No, but apparently you do.” Peter got up and joined Neal at the lamp.
“Do you see the little CH under Sir Robert Borden’s chin? Just at the edge of the white collar?” Neal handed the envelop and the loupe to Peter.
“Hmmmm, yeah. I do.”
“The CH stands for Curtis Hagen. He had wanted me to do some of the engraving for this, but I turned the job down. I had other plans at the time.” Neal smiled sourly, his other plans were the ones that landed him in captivity.
“And where can we find this Curtis Hagen?” That was from Hughes.
“The last time I saw him, he had a set up on the docks, but I doubt he’s still there. I can try to find out.” Neal thought that one old friend in particular would have the information he needed.
“Good.” Hughes turned to Peter. “You know what needs to be done.” At that, everyone stood as the Master left the room.
Neal enjoyed a warm glow from the satisfaction of his contribution, he just hoped that Mozzie would be able to located Hagen and they could shut him down quickly. The man had a temper and an ego, and Neal never regretted declining his job offer, even though the work could have been quite lucrative, or more likely, Hagen would have killed him when the engravings were finished. He didn’t forget about the damaged tapestry though, as he went to retrieve the legal pad with his repair notes. Moz would be able to help him with this too. He had connections throughout the brownie community, and there was no one better to repair this work of art and put the necessary protective spells on it to keep it from getting damaged anew.
“Strange how you knew exactly who the counterfeiter was. We’ve been trying to get a handle on this guy for years.” Neal had noticed Lieutenant Cruz came up from behind him, her “scent” was distinctive, and hostility radiated from her like a hot flame. He thought it best to ignore her. She didn’t let him.
“Tell us, Caffrey...what was it like to spend ten years in a Vampire-run detention center? Did you have fun avoiding the feral weres and the clanless vampires?” Lieutenant Jones tried to shush her, but she waved him off. Her voice was slurred, as if she were drunk, but Neal couldn’t help but notice that in addition to the deep bruising, her pupils were unevenly dilated. Cruz was badly hurt, which surprised Neal - given how vampires were supposed to be immune from injury, and that some of them had the ability to heal others. But her question was obnoxious and the end of his captivity too recent for him to just brush it off.
He turned to face her and got close up into her space, a threat gesture if ever there was one. “You want to know what it was like? I’ll be happy to explain. Imagine, if you will, living in a glass box in a land of eternal sunlight. There is no shade, no clouds, nothing to protect you from the rays of the sun except for a small two-foot by two-foot patch of shadow. If you move from that square, you’ll burst into flames. That’s what it was like for me living in an iron cage, in darkness for the last ten years.” Neal’s voice was low and his tone vicious, but he took no satisfaction in Cruz’s gasp or that she ran from the room in angry humiliation. He took no satisfaction in the nasty chuckles of the other vampires when Cruz walked into the doorframe, her eyesight clearly compromised by her head injury.
Diana, the vampire who had healed Neal’s bruises a short while ago, went to go after Cruz, but Jones held her back. “The Captain said she’s got to heal on her own.”
The Captain, who watched the entire exchange, smiled grimly. He couldn’t say that he took no satisfaction from Neal’s heated reaction to Cruz’ question, nor her abrupt and clumsy exit. “Neal, with me. The rest of you - you have your orders for the night.”
Neal tore off the top page of the legal pad and shoved it in his pocket. While he had been sticking his foot in his mouth constantly, his sense of timing certainly wasn’t impaired and he didn’t expect the Captain to be interested in the tapestry repairs when he needed Neal’s help to shut down a counterfeiter. He was startled when Peter held out his hand.
“Show it to me.”
“What?”
“The notes you made on the damage to the tapestry. It’s been bothering me for years, but it always slips my mind when I leave the conference room.”
Neal handed him the notes. “Did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” The Captain smiled. It wasn’t malicious. It was ... affectionate. “Everyone had a completely different expectation of you. You’ll do well here.”
“Different expectations?” Neal was intrigued.
“I don’t think they were expecting Neal Caffrey, Art Lover and Climber of Furniture. Let’s just say, you’re our little ray of sunshine.” Peter chuckled at the joke. Little did Neal know. He looked at the notes and handed them back to Neal. “Can you take care of this?”
“I think so. I’ll let you know if I run into trouble with it.”
“Oh, I am sure you will.” Peter sounded absurdly pleased.
“So, what now?”
“We find Hagen and put a stop to him. Tell me what you know.”
“Well, like I said, he approached me about ten years ago to do some of the engraving on the Canadian $100. He said he had a source within the Canadian treasury that would get him the security threads and another source for the paper. He wanted me to do the plates for back of the currency.”
“Why did you turn him down?”
“Hagen has a way of reneging on the payment terms in his contracts. I figured that it would be easier to say ‘no’ than to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
“And you were working on a little engraving project your own.”
Neal grimaced. He hated being reminded of his most spectacular failure. He changed the subject. “I have a friend who may be able to find Hagen for you.”
“Who?” Peter was curious. Neal had spent a decade in captivity and had practically no visitors and there were no other means of communication into or out of the detention center. For a human, ten years was a long time to remain friends without having some form of contact.
“Oh, no one I think you’d know.” Neal smiled and said nothing more.
Peter let the matter drop. For now. “I’ll have a studio set up for you by tomorrow night; you’ll work here with us until the enamels are finished. Any problems with that?” The question wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact.
“What about the Sunlight Agent stuff? Collecting the rents and the tithes and the tributes, the negotiations and the arm twisting? Or am I now your personal artist-in-residence, Captain?” Leaning back against the wall, Neal grinned at Peter, cocky and self assured.
“Jimmy’s on vacation - visiting with his grandchildren in the old country. You’ll pick that up when he gets back. In the meantime, I want to keep a close eye on you. I’ve got the feeling you attract trouble like my wife does.” Peter scrubbed a hand across his mouth, in an attempt to hide his smile, but he couldn’t control the sudden white blaze of his eyes as he reacted to the casually challenging and assertive sexuality in Neal’s pose.
Neal felt that almost-familiar jolt at the power evident in Peter’s eyes. Unlike his earlier reaction to the Master’s challenging display, he felt his body practically quiver with suppressed desire. This could be embarrassing, especially if he was going to be sequestered with the Captain on a regular basis.
Peter gestured for Neal to follow him back to his office.
After a few steps, Neal stopped. “Captain, Peter - a question.”
Peter closed his eyes in exasperation. “What, Neal?
“Lunch, dinner, maybe coffee? A bathroom. You can’t tell me that there isn’t any accommodations for dinner? Maybe a bureau filled with snacks? Even if I’m the only human around, certainly some of the other preternaturals need to eat and do their business?”
“You’re going to be a real pain, Caffrey. You know that - right?” There was no rancor in the Captain’s voice, only fond exasperation. “There is a men’s room in the North Tower, next to the dining room, two floors down. If the food’s not to your taste, I’m sure June’s staff will be able to have something for you to take with you. I may even be able to dig up a lunch box for you - would you prefer Bugs Bunny or The Roadrunner to hold your peanut butter and jelly?”
Neal snickered, “What, no Porky Pig?”
“Nope, that one’s mine. It’s got the matching thermos.” Peter gave as good as he got and just stared at Neal until they both burst out laughing.
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Neal followed the Captain’s directions and found the dining room. No one looked up as he went in and took a small table in the corner. There were a few humans (as best as he could tell), as well as an assortment of preternatural creatures, including a quartet of brownies, a phookah sitting with something that had the body of a woman and the head and wings of a raven (Neal made a note to himself to ask June about that one), and a cluster of vampires, a few of whom Neal recognized from the meeting, but thankfully, that group did not include the bad-mannered Lt. Cruz.
He ordered a small assortment of sushi and a bottle of warm sake, and handed the menu back to the kitsune who was servicing his table. Neal ate quickly and neatly, but the sake was probably not a good idea - the alcohol went right to his head, and he didn’t think twice about signing the chit with Captain Burke’s name. He wondered if he should leave a tip for the kitsune, and decided that he’d rather risk an insult over generosity than appear stingy.
Head still spinning, he exited the dining room and found himself completely lost. Without any windows, and branching corridors decorated in the same luxurious manner, Neal couldn’t get his bearings and wandered until he found a staircase, the one he hoped was the one that would take him back to Captain Burke’s offices. Halfway up the first flight of stairs, he got a whiff of something, of someone. Lieutenant Lauren Cruz.
She was sitting on the landing, head in her hand, her posture one of utter defeat, and she didn’t look up when Neal approached. He wondered if he should say anything. It went against his nature to be on bad terms with others. Neal liked people, and he liked people to like him. This vampire’s hostility was puzzling and uncomfortable.
“Are you okay?” He stood a few steps below and would have been eye level if she could be bothered to look up at him.
Lauren didn’t bother, she just muttered, “Why do you care?”
“Well, you’re hurt. That’s why.”
“Not your problem, felon.” She practically hissed that last word, unfortunately the slurring and uneven cadence undermined the effect of her invective.
“And why should that bother you. Whryccrid or not, you aren’t exactly a bunch of law abiding citizens.”
At this, Lauren finally looked at him, her bruised face set and angry, her misdilated eyes trying to flash with power, but only raising a milky film which quickly drained. “You understand nothing ... you’re just a dirty, thieving criminal. You aren’t fit to lick the Captain’s boots.”
Ahhh, so that was the way of things. Neal sat down beside her. “I’m no threat to you. You’ll be here long after I’m dead and dust.”
She turned and smirked at him. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Neal couldn’t resist adding. “If you heal before your brain bleeds out. I wonder if the pressure inside your skull will result in permanent damage. Somehow, I don’t think the Captain is going to keep you around if you’re permanently impaired.”
Lauren choked on a little sob. “You’re mean.”
“So are you.”
They sat there for a few minutes, each saying nothing. Finally, Neal broke the silence. “What happened to you?”
“I was stupid. Arrogant.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t shock me. What did you do?”
“I wanted to impress the Captain, and I didn’t wear any armor during a kendo practice.”
“He beat the snot out of you, right?”
Lauren sniffed. “That’s a lovely way to put it, but yes. He warned me, he told me to put my armor on, I refused and he hit me as hard as if I was fully protected. I deserve everything I got.”
“I thought vampires were immune to long-lasting injuries. I though you could heal yourself immediately.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and muttered. “I’ve been suspended from The Gift as punishment. I won’t heal properly without it.”
“The Gift?” Neal hoped Lauren wouldn’t clam up now - this was all new information for him, and he could see that she was considering whether or not to answer his question. Neal gave her one of his most sincere smiles.
Lauren continued. “The Gift is the blood exchange between a senior and a subordinate vampire - usually between maker and offspring, but the Captain is not my maker, and I haven’t been here for enough cycles to have become fully absorbed within this Kiss.”
An “ah ha” moment. That is why Lauren smelled different. “So, without taking the Captain’s blood, you’ll starve?” A startling thought occurred to Neal - he was sitting alone with a potentially hungry vampire.
“No - The Gift is not about sustenance. It’s about power. The exchange shares power, and well - usually between members of a cadre, sharing is more than just the blood exchange.” Lauren’s voice stumbled on that last bit of information, and it wasn’t because she was slurring her words.
Neal’s eyes widened. “You have sex with the Captain? But ... he’s married. And I’ve met his wife. She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d tolerate that.”
“Forget your human morality. Vampires have to be polyamorous - sex and pleasure are part of feeding. But sex is not just for pleasure within the cadre. It - orgasm - reinforces the oaths and bindings.” Lauren rolled her neck, a classic move to ease a headache. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this. But it doesn’t matter. The Captain’s going to send me home anyway. He thinks that I don’t belong here.”
Neal felt a little sorry for the lieutenant - she was obviously unhappy and didn’t know how to fix the situation. “Can’t you apologize?”
“And appear weak?”
Neal, who barely knew Captain Burke, instinctively understood that he wouldn’t view an apology as a display of weakness, and that he was expecting his subordinate to apologize and put the incident behind them. “So, you’re sort of like a drained battery - and until the Captain lets you back in to The Gift, you won’t heal.”
“I’d heal if the Captain let me partake of The Gift from any of the other cadre members, but I’ve been forbidden. But the Captain’s so powerful, I’d heal if he just fed me his blood.”
“Feeding from humans won’t help at all?”
“No, but now that you mention it ... I am a little hungry. A light snack sounds good about now.”
Neal eased himself up and away from Lauren, hoping that her debilitated condition would slow her down enough that he could get to safety. “Just so you know, my contract with the Captain - with the Kiss, is pretty clear about blood compulsion. I don’t have to let you feed from me.”
Lauren licked her lips and Neal shivered at the sight of her emerging fangs. “Felon - I’ve got nothing to lose. I can make this very pleasurable for you, if you don’t run.”
Neal was fast, but Lauren, even injured was faster and he found himself pressed against the wall, her slim body grinding against him and her hands tearing at his shirt and tie. Neal tried to struggle, but a strange, aching lassitude overcame him and he closed his eyes. Then, without warning, Lauren was pulled off of him.
“Neal - are you okay?” It was Peter and his voice was urgent, worried, angry. He blinked and felt his own will return.
“I think so.”
“I am going to kill her.” Peter’s eyes were blazing and Neal could see an aura of power coruscating around him, like a halo. Lauren began to gag, her breath rasping, her eyes turning red as they filled with blood, which poured out of her nose and ears too.
Neal was horrified - whatever Lauren had tried to do, she didn’t deserve this.
Go To Chapter X - Honor, Justice and Fate
Author:
elrhiarhodan Fandom: White Collar
Rating: R
Characters: Neal Caffrey, Sunlight Agent, Captain Peter Burke, Lt. Lauren Cruz, Lt. Clinton Jones, Lt. Diana Barrigan, Master Reese Hughes
Spoilers: None
Warnings/Triggers: None
Word Count: ~ 4000
Summary: Vampire Peter, Shapeshifter El and Neal, who is something more than he ever expected to be. Chapter IX - A Power To Make the World Tremble. Neal goes one on one with Master Hughes, ends up ass over teakettle, and solves the mystery of The Dutchman.
All mistakes are mine. Feedback is adored.
Prologue | Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII
Appreciating the need not to appear weak or cowed by anyone, Neal looked the Whryccrid Master directly in his eyes and he felt the power roll off this ancient, ancient creature. It sucked the air out of his lungs and his heart began to stutter. It felt like he was dying. He did his best not to gasp, and as the edges of his vision turned black, he held out his hand and tried to introduce himself. He thought he heard someone chuckle and all of a sudden, that power was turned down, but not off; Neal could still feel it buzzing along his nerve endings, a strangely familiar sensation. He stood there, right hand extended, staring at a white-eyed vampire and he wondered precisely when he lost his mind. To his surprise, Hughes shook his hand and smiled. Sort of. The corners of his mouth seemed to briefly curve upwards and he nodded to Neal - quite possibly an indication of respect or acknowledgment of Neal’s utter audacity in standing up to him as an equal.
Hughes took his seat, the last one at the table and everyone sat down too, except for Neal. There wasn’t an extra chair for him and he stood there, lost and a little embarrassed. No one took pity on him and he started to make his way towards the door.
“Caffrey - go stand in the corner.” It was the Master, not Peter who gave the order.
“I can leave ... “
“Caffrey - when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed without question. Don’t make me repeat myself.” Neal went to the corner of the room where the tapestry was hung and tried to make himself unobtrusive. Someone snickered, Neal thought it was Cruz.
He listened attentively as the vampires ran through what seems to be ordinary, night-to-night business. It occurred to Neal that the Kiss was like a large corporation, and he idly wondered how it managed to operate so smoothly. He seemed to be the only Sunlight Agent, but he had to believe that there must be a whole army of vampire accountants and clerks and technicians to keep the books and maintain the systems that were required in this modern world.
Neal tried to keep his attention on the topic at hand - investing in mortgage backed securities, but it was impossible and his attention turned inevitably to the large Pre-Raphaelite tapestry that decorated the conference room. He looked at the faces of the knights in their armor and he chuckled silently to himself. The work was clearly Burne-Jones - and one that no one outside of the Kiss and this ruling cadre at ever seen, but the artist must have - at some point - met many of the cadre’s members, particularly Hughes and Peter and Jones and a few of the others whose names Neal could not recall. Then he found himself getting annoyed. The artwork - rare and precious and fragile - was showing signs of age - if not downright abuse. The heavy weaving was hanging without proper support and there were tears and separations across the top border, as well as signs of wear and neglect throughout.
Completely ignoring the discussions going on amongst the vampires, he took a legal pad from the stack sitting on the credenza under the tapestry and started sketching - marking off quadrants and noting the damage. He toed off his shoes and hopped on to furniture to get a better look at the tearing at the top, and become so involved he didn’t notice that the conversation around the table had come to a complete stop and everyone was looking at him.
“Neal - what the hell are you doing?” Peter’s voice startled him and he slipped on the smooth wood, falling first to one knee and then off of the chest, banging his shins on the edge, and then onto the floor, landing on his ass.
“Ouch, ouch...shit...ouch.” Neal rolled around in agony until someone lifted him up. He tried to walk off the bruising. This time, the laughter was obvious.
“Neal - would you mind explaining why you were climbing on the furniture?”
He sucked air through his teeth, trying to work past the sharp pain in his legs and his buttocks. “The tapestry - it’s a masterpiece and you’re abusing it. It...it needs to be repaired. At least there’s no directly light on it, so the colors haven’t faded.” He hopped from one leg to the other, in agony. He didn’t think anything was broken, but the pain was excruciating.
“Lieutenant Barrigan - see to him” That was Hughes and she obeyed immediately. She pushed Neal back, so he was leaning on the credenza and ran her hands over his legs. Something light and electric and sharp simmered within him and the pain simply disappeared.
He looked at the vampire, full of respect and wonder, and she grinned back at him. “You okay?”
“Yeah - what did you do to me?”
“Just fixed you a bit. Nothing to worry about.” She winked at him.
Peter cleared his throat. “Diana, Neal - this meeting isn’t over yet. And Neal...please pay attention.”
Diana slid back into her seat and Neal leaned against the credenza.
Hughes continued the meeting. “The last item for today is the on-going problem we have with counterfeiting. The human authorities are getting rather agitated, and I am also concerned about our failure to lock down the source of the fake Canadian currency. The bills are too good - they seem to have authentic security measures, but they are definitely made from counterfeit plates.” Hughes passed around a sealed envelope containing the suspect currency. When it got to the vampire sitting in front of Neal, she was courteous enough to offer it to him to look at. He smiled at her and took the envelope.
“Does anyone have a loupe or a magnifying glass?” Lieutenant Jones tossed him a loupe and completely oblivious to the fact that he was once again the cynosure of all of the eyes in the room, Neal walked over to a bright floor lamp to examine the fake bill. After several minutes, the silence was almost deadly, but Neal didn’t notice.
“Mr. Caffrey...do you have anything?” The irritation in the Master’s voice was palpable.
“Actually, yes. I think I know who made this counterfeit.” Now, Neal let the silence in the room work for him. He licked his lips, enjoying the drama of the moment.
“Neal, are you going to enlighten us?” This was from Peter, who seemed to be doing his best to remain nonchalant.
“It’s the Dutchman.”
“We know that.” Hughes grumbled.
“But do you know who the Dutchman is?” Neal motioned for Peter to come look at the bill.
“No, but apparently you do.” Peter got up and joined Neal at the lamp.
“Do you see the little CH under Sir Robert Borden’s chin? Just at the edge of the white collar?” Neal handed the envelop and the loupe to Peter.
“Hmmmm, yeah. I do.”
“The CH stands for Curtis Hagen. He had wanted me to do some of the engraving for this, but I turned the job down. I had other plans at the time.” Neal smiled sourly, his other plans were the ones that landed him in captivity.
“And where can we find this Curtis Hagen?” That was from Hughes.
“The last time I saw him, he had a set up on the docks, but I doubt he’s still there. I can try to find out.” Neal thought that one old friend in particular would have the information he needed.
“Good.” Hughes turned to Peter. “You know what needs to be done.” At that, everyone stood as the Master left the room.
Neal enjoyed a warm glow from the satisfaction of his contribution, he just hoped that Mozzie would be able to located Hagen and they could shut him down quickly. The man had a temper and an ego, and Neal never regretted declining his job offer, even though the work could have been quite lucrative, or more likely, Hagen would have killed him when the engravings were finished. He didn’t forget about the damaged tapestry though, as he went to retrieve the legal pad with his repair notes. Moz would be able to help him with this too. He had connections throughout the brownie community, and there was no one better to repair this work of art and put the necessary protective spells on it to keep it from getting damaged anew.
“Strange how you knew exactly who the counterfeiter was. We’ve been trying to get a handle on this guy for years.” Neal had noticed Lieutenant Cruz came up from behind him, her “scent” was distinctive, and hostility radiated from her like a hot flame. He thought it best to ignore her. She didn’t let him.
“Tell us, Caffrey...what was it like to spend ten years in a Vampire-run detention center? Did you have fun avoiding the feral weres and the clanless vampires?” Lieutenant Jones tried to shush her, but she waved him off. Her voice was slurred, as if she were drunk, but Neal couldn’t help but notice that in addition to the deep bruising, her pupils were unevenly dilated. Cruz was badly hurt, which surprised Neal - given how vampires were supposed to be immune from injury, and that some of them had the ability to heal others. But her question was obnoxious and the end of his captivity too recent for him to just brush it off.
He turned to face her and got close up into her space, a threat gesture if ever there was one. “You want to know what it was like? I’ll be happy to explain. Imagine, if you will, living in a glass box in a land of eternal sunlight. There is no shade, no clouds, nothing to protect you from the rays of the sun except for a small two-foot by two-foot patch of shadow. If you move from that square, you’ll burst into flames. That’s what it was like for me living in an iron cage, in darkness for the last ten years.” Neal’s voice was low and his tone vicious, but he took no satisfaction in Cruz’s gasp or that she ran from the room in angry humiliation. He took no satisfaction in the nasty chuckles of the other vampires when Cruz walked into the doorframe, her eyesight clearly compromised by her head injury.
Diana, the vampire who had healed Neal’s bruises a short while ago, went to go after Cruz, but Jones held her back. “The Captain said she’s got to heal on her own.”
The Captain, who watched the entire exchange, smiled grimly. He couldn’t say that he took no satisfaction from Neal’s heated reaction to Cruz’ question, nor her abrupt and clumsy exit. “Neal, with me. The rest of you - you have your orders for the night.”
Neal tore off the top page of the legal pad and shoved it in his pocket. While he had been sticking his foot in his mouth constantly, his sense of timing certainly wasn’t impaired and he didn’t expect the Captain to be interested in the tapestry repairs when he needed Neal’s help to shut down a counterfeiter. He was startled when Peter held out his hand.
“Show it to me.”
“What?”
“The notes you made on the damage to the tapestry. It’s been bothering me for years, but it always slips my mind when I leave the conference room.”
Neal handed him the notes. “Did I make a complete fool of myself?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” The Captain smiled. It wasn’t malicious. It was ... affectionate. “Everyone had a completely different expectation of you. You’ll do well here.”
“Different expectations?” Neal was intrigued.
“I don’t think they were expecting Neal Caffrey, Art Lover and Climber of Furniture. Let’s just say, you’re our little ray of sunshine.” Peter chuckled at the joke. Little did Neal know. He looked at the notes and handed them back to Neal. “Can you take care of this?”
“I think so. I’ll let you know if I run into trouble with it.”
“Oh, I am sure you will.” Peter sounded absurdly pleased.
“So, what now?”
“We find Hagen and put a stop to him. Tell me what you know.”
“Well, like I said, he approached me about ten years ago to do some of the engraving on the Canadian $100. He said he had a source within the Canadian treasury that would get him the security threads and another source for the paper. He wanted me to do the plates for back of the currency.”
“Why did you turn him down?”
“Hagen has a way of reneging on the payment terms in his contracts. I figured that it would be easier to say ‘no’ than to be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.”
“And you were working on a little engraving project your own.”
Neal grimaced. He hated being reminded of his most spectacular failure. He changed the subject. “I have a friend who may be able to find Hagen for you.”
“Who?” Peter was curious. Neal had spent a decade in captivity and had practically no visitors and there were no other means of communication into or out of the detention center. For a human, ten years was a long time to remain friends without having some form of contact.
“Oh, no one I think you’d know.” Neal smiled and said nothing more.
Peter let the matter drop. For now. “I’ll have a studio set up for you by tomorrow night; you’ll work here with us until the enamels are finished. Any problems with that?” The question wasn’t so much a question as a statement of fact.
“What about the Sunlight Agent stuff? Collecting the rents and the tithes and the tributes, the negotiations and the arm twisting? Or am I now your personal artist-in-residence, Captain?” Leaning back against the wall, Neal grinned at Peter, cocky and self assured.
“Jimmy’s on vacation - visiting with his grandchildren in the old country. You’ll pick that up when he gets back. In the meantime, I want to keep a close eye on you. I’ve got the feeling you attract trouble like my wife does.” Peter scrubbed a hand across his mouth, in an attempt to hide his smile, but he couldn’t control the sudden white blaze of his eyes as he reacted to the casually challenging and assertive sexuality in Neal’s pose.
Neal felt that almost-familiar jolt at the power evident in Peter’s eyes. Unlike his earlier reaction to the Master’s challenging display, he felt his body practically quiver with suppressed desire. This could be embarrassing, especially if he was going to be sequestered with the Captain on a regular basis.
Peter gestured for Neal to follow him back to his office.
After a few steps, Neal stopped. “Captain, Peter - a question.”
Peter closed his eyes in exasperation. “What, Neal?
“Lunch, dinner, maybe coffee? A bathroom. You can’t tell me that there isn’t any accommodations for dinner? Maybe a bureau filled with snacks? Even if I’m the only human around, certainly some of the other preternaturals need to eat and do their business?”
“You’re going to be a real pain, Caffrey. You know that - right?” There was no rancor in the Captain’s voice, only fond exasperation. “There is a men’s room in the North Tower, next to the dining room, two floors down. If the food’s not to your taste, I’m sure June’s staff will be able to have something for you to take with you. I may even be able to dig up a lunch box for you - would you prefer Bugs Bunny or The Roadrunner to hold your peanut butter and jelly?”
Neal snickered, “What, no Porky Pig?”
“Nope, that one’s mine. It’s got the matching thermos.” Peter gave as good as he got and just stared at Neal until they both burst out laughing.
Neal followed the Captain’s directions and found the dining room. No one looked up as he went in and took a small table in the corner. There were a few humans (as best as he could tell), as well as an assortment of preternatural creatures, including a quartet of brownies, a phookah sitting with something that had the body of a woman and the head and wings of a raven (Neal made a note to himself to ask June about that one), and a cluster of vampires, a few of whom Neal recognized from the meeting, but thankfully, that group did not include the bad-mannered Lt. Cruz.
He ordered a small assortment of sushi and a bottle of warm sake, and handed the menu back to the kitsune who was servicing his table. Neal ate quickly and neatly, but the sake was probably not a good idea - the alcohol went right to his head, and he didn’t think twice about signing the chit with Captain Burke’s name. He wondered if he should leave a tip for the kitsune, and decided that he’d rather risk an insult over generosity than appear stingy.
Head still spinning, he exited the dining room and found himself completely lost. Without any windows, and branching corridors decorated in the same luxurious manner, Neal couldn’t get his bearings and wandered until he found a staircase, the one he hoped was the one that would take him back to Captain Burke’s offices. Halfway up the first flight of stairs, he got a whiff of something, of someone. Lieutenant Lauren Cruz.
She was sitting on the landing, head in her hand, her posture one of utter defeat, and she didn’t look up when Neal approached. He wondered if he should say anything. It went against his nature to be on bad terms with others. Neal liked people, and he liked people to like him. This vampire’s hostility was puzzling and uncomfortable.
“Are you okay?” He stood a few steps below and would have been eye level if she could be bothered to look up at him.
Lauren didn’t bother, she just muttered, “Why do you care?”
“Well, you’re hurt. That’s why.”
“Not your problem, felon.” She practically hissed that last word, unfortunately the slurring and uneven cadence undermined the effect of her invective.
“And why should that bother you. Whryccrid or not, you aren’t exactly a bunch of law abiding citizens.”
At this, Lauren finally looked at him, her bruised face set and angry, her misdilated eyes trying to flash with power, but only raising a milky film which quickly drained. “You understand nothing ... you’re just a dirty, thieving criminal. You aren’t fit to lick the Captain’s boots.”
Ahhh, so that was the way of things. Neal sat down beside her. “I’m no threat to you. You’ll be here long after I’m dead and dust.”
She turned and smirked at him. “Yeah, that’s true.”
Neal couldn’t resist adding. “If you heal before your brain bleeds out. I wonder if the pressure inside your skull will result in permanent damage. Somehow, I don’t think the Captain is going to keep you around if you’re permanently impaired.”
Lauren choked on a little sob. “You’re mean.”
“So are you.”
They sat there for a few minutes, each saying nothing. Finally, Neal broke the silence. “What happened to you?”
“I was stupid. Arrogant.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t shock me. What did you do?”
“I wanted to impress the Captain, and I didn’t wear any armor during a kendo practice.”
“He beat the snot out of you, right?”
Lauren sniffed. “That’s a lovely way to put it, but yes. He warned me, he told me to put my armor on, I refused and he hit me as hard as if I was fully protected. I deserve everything I got.”
“I thought vampires were immune to long-lasting injuries. I though you could heal yourself immediately.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and muttered. “I’ve been suspended from The Gift as punishment. I won’t heal properly without it.”
“The Gift?” Neal hoped Lauren wouldn’t clam up now - this was all new information for him, and he could see that she was considering whether or not to answer his question. Neal gave her one of his most sincere smiles.
Lauren continued. “The Gift is the blood exchange between a senior and a subordinate vampire - usually between maker and offspring, but the Captain is not my maker, and I haven’t been here for enough cycles to have become fully absorbed within this Kiss.”
An “ah ha” moment. That is why Lauren smelled different. “So, without taking the Captain’s blood, you’ll starve?” A startling thought occurred to Neal - he was sitting alone with a potentially hungry vampire.
“No - The Gift is not about sustenance. It’s about power. The exchange shares power, and well - usually between members of a cadre, sharing is more than just the blood exchange.” Lauren’s voice stumbled on that last bit of information, and it wasn’t because she was slurring her words.
Neal’s eyes widened. “You have sex with the Captain? But ... he’s married. And I’ve met his wife. She doesn’t seem like the kind of woman who’d tolerate that.”
“Forget your human morality. Vampires have to be polyamorous - sex and pleasure are part of feeding. But sex is not just for pleasure within the cadre. It - orgasm - reinforces the oaths and bindings.” Lauren rolled her neck, a classic move to ease a headache. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you any of this. But it doesn’t matter. The Captain’s going to send me home anyway. He thinks that I don’t belong here.”
Neal felt a little sorry for the lieutenant - she was obviously unhappy and didn’t know how to fix the situation. “Can’t you apologize?”
“And appear weak?”
Neal, who barely knew Captain Burke, instinctively understood that he wouldn’t view an apology as a display of weakness, and that he was expecting his subordinate to apologize and put the incident behind them. “So, you’re sort of like a drained battery - and until the Captain lets you back in to The Gift, you won’t heal.”
“I’d heal if the Captain let me partake of The Gift from any of the other cadre members, but I’ve been forbidden. But the Captain’s so powerful, I’d heal if he just fed me his blood.”
“Feeding from humans won’t help at all?”
“No, but now that you mention it ... I am a little hungry. A light snack sounds good about now.”
Neal eased himself up and away from Lauren, hoping that her debilitated condition would slow her down enough that he could get to safety. “Just so you know, my contract with the Captain - with the Kiss, is pretty clear about blood compulsion. I don’t have to let you feed from me.”
Lauren licked her lips and Neal shivered at the sight of her emerging fangs. “Felon - I’ve got nothing to lose. I can make this very pleasurable for you, if you don’t run.”
Neal was fast, but Lauren, even injured was faster and he found himself pressed against the wall, her slim body grinding against him and her hands tearing at his shirt and tie. Neal tried to struggle, but a strange, aching lassitude overcame him and he closed his eyes. Then, without warning, Lauren was pulled off of him.
“Neal - are you okay?” It was Peter and his voice was urgent, worried, angry. He blinked and felt his own will return.
“I think so.”
“I am going to kill her.” Peter’s eyes were blazing and Neal could see an aura of power coruscating around him, like a halo. Lauren began to gag, her breath rasping, her eyes turning red as they filled with blood, which poured out of her nose and ears too.
Neal was horrified - whatever Lauren had tried to do, she didn’t deserve this.
Go To Chapter X - Honor, Justice and Fate
