The jarring noise of heels against the cold marble floors of the Cannister building filled the lobby, acting as a wakeup call to the rest of the inhabitants, who seemed to be in some kind of sleepless haze.

The receptionist looked up from the golden colored wood desk she was seated behind at the sound, ready to greet the incoming guest. But, upon seeing who it was, her face creased with worry, and she looked down again at her non-existent paperwork, avoiding the gaze of the blonde woman walking though.

Once she reached the grand hallway that opened out onto a pair of double-doored elevators, the woman in the heels stopped. Pressing the button, she stood dead still against the warm flood of voices entering the building behind her. Tourists.

She watched them through the corner of her eyes as they gasped, 'oohed' and 'aahed' at the magnificent historical presence of the building. She waited patiently as they began to catch up with her.

"Ms Bass will tend to you in a moment." she smiled, eyeing several of the young looking girls. "You're having an enjoyable holiday I assume?"

A few of the heads nodded eagerly, looking around at the old building in awe. The 20 foot ceilings and elaborately decorated curtain hangings. The encrusted ceiling and detailed banisters. A slow whine of the orchestra could be heard faintly from the dining room, although to Phoebe is was as if it was right next to her.

The elevator announced its arrival, and the doors sliding open soundlessly. Phoebe beckoned the dozen or so tourists in, grimacing at the closeness they were having to adopt in the confined space. She glanced at the watch worth twenty-three million on her wrist - a gift from her cousin Sebastian, and then straightened up, preparing for the groups arrival at the top floor.

As the doors slid open, Phoebe gestured to the group to move out, as she took a head at the front of the group, walking faster than the others could keep up with her into the Bass headquarters of the Cannister building Ballroom.

"Miss Cheverill." Evelyn Bass greeted her warmly, although still had the stiff coldness that their whole family embodied. The beautiful woman across from her was dressed in a figure hugging pencil skirt and a loose blouse that softened her features. She grasped her in a brief embrace, before letting go and smiling across at her. "I trust you've brought our... sustenance?" the muscles in her smooth white neck contracted, as she peered past Phoebe and out into the wide hallway in which the tourists were still mingling.

"Of course." Phoebe smiled. "It was too easy."

"Wonderful." Evelyn said stiffly, moving gracefully past Phoebe and towards the hall, her high heels clacking loudly against the marble floors.

Phoebe made her way to the other side of the room, not bothering to keep a normal pace now that she was amongst her own kind. Anyone who did see her would be dead no doubt in a few minutes anyway.

She moved into the dark office space that preceded the ballroom. It was obvious that this room had been used as a cloak room back in the eighteen hundreds when the Bass family would hold their infamous dinner parties here. It had been several decades since these rooms had been alight with voices and movement. They were now just as cold and motionless as their inhabitants.

The black room drew you in, and as Phoebe took a step inside and closed the door behind her, she grinned, just as ornate traditional bed lamp was flicked on across the right side of the room.

"Cheverill. It's been a while." The handsome smirking face of Chuck Bass, son of Evelyn, could be visible from the light that the lamp provided.

"Just the same as always I see." Phoebe replied, looking around the room at the tall bookcases, empty suitcases and the large wooden piano in the middle of the room. "Wallowing in the dark all by yourself."

Chuck stood up, quickly, taking a slow, measured step towards her. The perfectly fitted suit he was wearing complimented his coloring and looked even better in here next to the centuries old furniture. "I have come to take pleasure in the solitude. After all, it's better than associating myself with the others."

Phoebe frowned. She knew he was referring to the various members of their inner circle that he took a disliking to. She could never put a finger on it, just why Chuck didn't like someone. But once he did, there was no swaying him, and he would make every effort to avoid them.

"Well, sometimes we all have to make sacrifices to get what we want." Phoebe explained, moving closer to him and looking up at him jestingly. "I see you haven't come to a decision regarding your mother yet."

"She will work it out herself." Chuck said, his eyes turning blacker as he glanced at the door quickly, and then back down at the floor. Phoebe knew he was listening to where his mother was at the time.

Obviously concluding that she was in the vicinity, therefore able to hear what he was saying, he touched her on the small of the back, ushering her out of the room. "I have some business to attend to. I appreciate you dropping by though Miss Cheverill."

Phoebe smiled politely, looking across the smooth white planes of his face, "Always a pleasure Chuck."

Phoebe walked back across the room to the main entrance at a normal pace, whilst Chuck made a swift movement over to the large archway leading into the dark shadowy west wing of the penthouse. She could hear the piano being played in one of the rooms surrounding her, probably by one of the servants.

Just as she was making her way towards the elevator to descend from the premises, she heard a high pitched scream coming from one of the locked rooms leading off the hallway. Evelyn Bass was undoubtedly ending several lives of the tourists before their journey had even begun.

The lobby was once again as empty as ever as she made her way though the well-lit room. It was 3:15 in the morning A few people slept on the couches in the left corner of the room, while the secretary continued typing furiously. Phoebe swept her long, voluminous blonde hair around the side of her shoulder as she exited the building, wearing nothing but the skin-tight black strapless dress against the winter chill that anyone normal would find unbearable.

As soon as she stepped into the shiny black town car waiting on the curb, she brought the phone in her purse to her ear. Licking her naturally red lips slowly as she waited for the person on the other end to pick up.

"Gilbert." She started menacingly, when there was a crackle on the other end of the line. She knew he was listening.

There was a slow breath, and then a wheezy laugh. "What is it now Phoebs? You need more humans for your stupid hamster mill?"

Phoebe sighed, grasping into the small glovebox and pulling out an expensive looking wine glass.

"I've told you this before Gilbert. This is what I do best, and if you can't accept that I gained the inner knowledge and not you, then I think you need to give this whole facade up and come and join us again." Phoebe explained with a slightly patient air.

"I'm getting your humans. I'm getting you what you need. That's all I'm doing. Soon enough you'll be accepted into the Bass clan just like the others have, and you'll have no need for me anymore."

"You're right." Phoebe announced, finally hatching the final stages her plan. "I'm going to get Charles Bass to fall in love with me and ask me to marry him."

She heard Gilbert draw in a sharp breath on the other line.

"You're my brother Gilbert, and I know you'll do anything for me. But right now, I'm doing this part of it myself and I'm getting it done. Soon enough I'm going to be near enough royalty in this city."

"You've made it into their inner circle, isn't that enough?" She could tell that Gilbert was fuming on the other side. "Look... just wait it out, soon enough the Basses won't even be a presence in our society. They're fading out, everyone can see it except you."

"The Basses have been the head of our kind for as long as existence!" Phoebe argued, exasperated. Mother and Father used to attend their parties, they used to be friends with Bartholomew and Evelyn Bass and our family is a respected, old family within our culture. You're the only one who refuses to believe it and insists on rebelling."

"So what are you doing?" Gilbert asked, after a moment of thought.

"I'm maintaining our social standing. I'm making sure that Cheverille is still a name of prestige and respect."

She heard Gilbert sigh on the other end. "Whatever. Do what you want."

"Evelyn Bass is talking of expanding our kind. Before too long there's going to be new families, new competition. I need to make sure we remain at the top now that mother and father have disappeared."

She could hear him running.

"Where are you?"

"Canada."

"It's to be expected." Phoebe smirked running her hand around the rim of the wine glass, debating whether to fill it with some of the sustenance Evelyn had generously provided her.

She paused for a moment, deciding whether to broach the topic. "Are you still looking for them?"

"No." She heard the lie loud and clear. It was a touchy subject, so she decided to change direction.

"So do you have any more 'tourists' for Evelyn?" Phoebe asked, after a moment of hesitation.

"There's a group of girls hanging around every weekend down near the west of the park." Gilbert gave in.

"Young? School aged?" she considered, looking out the window at the brightly lit buildings passing by her. She heard Gilbert nod on the other end.

"They do make good vampires at that age. Nothing to rebel against. Nothing to hold them back. It becomes a way of life very quickly." Phoebe agreed, peering through glass window in front of her.

"I'll need names." She said after a second of thought. "I need to frame deaths, suicides, the usual. I need it all to be perfect for Evelyn when she changes them."

"Of course." Gilbert told her, "I've got Madeline Harrington, Isobel Merchant and Blair Waldorf."

"Superb." Phoebe pursed her blood red lips together and smiled. "Sounds wonderful."