Disclaimer: Moonlight belongs to CBS, Joel Silver and many other talented people who are not me.
This story is the continuation of "The Lion." in which Mick reverts to vampirism and finds himself starved and desperate for blood. It was originally meant to be a oneshot and is capable of standing alone, so I've separated the rest of the story here. "Two Steps Back" has been removed from the and placed here in its larger context. So if you hit a part you think you've read before, you're right. Forgive me. This is my first multipart story, and the overall plan changed radically from how it was originally planned.
Please, please read and review. It keeps the ideas flowing!
Chapter 1: Killing Time
All vampires lose their table manners from time to time. You know, drop their napkin, take too big a bite, leave the dishes for someone else to wash. If they didn't, I wouldn't have a job. And thankfully- or unfortunately, depending on which side of the food chain you inhabit- it happens often enough that my services are in high demand.
Vampires are predators, hunters masquerading in a bovine world. It's only natural that once in a while a vamp will cast off the disguise and revert to type. Pretending to be something you're not gets old when your life span is measured in centuries.
As for myself, I neither condone nor condemn. I simply deal with the consequences so that we can all continue living. If humans were ever to realize their true placement on the food pyramid…Well, suffice it to say, they outnumber us by about six billion or so.
Most of my kind don't waste too much time on the niceties of remorse. Oh, there might be some brief scenes of handwringing, some embarrassment at being caught out. But it's all a cover. Good hunts stay with you. They satisfy. They replay themselves in your dreams. Tide you over until the next time you realize that you can't tolerate one more moment of pretending to be less than what you are.
Of course, every rule is proven by its exception. For every ninety-nine meat eaters at a party, there's bound to be one vegetarian who screws up the menu.
Hence my problem tonight.
The Cleaner was stalling. She had been since she'd bundled Mick into her car. She'd paced the scene and double checked the crew's work, passing down a few last instructions and covering issues that her second could have handled just as well.
She told herself she was simply being careful. In these days of CSIs and luminal, one could never be too thorough. In reality, she was waiting for the phone to ring. A 911 to Josef always got a response, sooner rather than later given the nature of her profession.
Let's see. A Friday night, 9pm…If I were Josef, where would I be? She leaned a leather clad hip against her car and crossed her arms, a sarcastic smile growing across her features. She knew exactly where he was. In the middle of his harem. Doing whatever it was that men with harems did. One of those little bimbos had better pass him the phone. Her smile widened, taking on a harder edge. For some reason whenever she was with Josef, the girls all scattered from her presence, like mice running from a cat. A glance at the caller ID should send one of them scurrying.
She and Josef had enjoyed a mutually beneficial relationship for the last fifty years or so. Josef was a player in their world, a broker of power, wealth and information. He was a force for balance, the paranoid protector of the status quo- a position she supported. As he always said, you hadn't really lived until you'd been chased by an angry, stake wielding mob. As for what she could offer? That was easy. Sooner or later every vampire in the area had need of her assistance, and skeletons in the closet all had stories to tell. Maintaining the confidentiality of her clientele was an issue, but not all of the information she possessed fell under the seal of the confessional. And when it did? Well, she and Josef were masters of the 'hypothetical' conversation.
The subject of Mick had come up from time to time. In truth, she found him more than slightly fascinating, and she rather thought Josef approved. At the very least, he'd never stopped feeding her information on his best friend. If Mick ever got his act together, stopped denying his nature and actually started liking himself…they might be well matched. Of course, considering Mick's lifestyle over the last two and a half decades, those were fairly big 'ifs.' Still, stranger things had happened. Josef had mentioned recently that Mick was courting a freshie. That was a good sign. Probably.
Possibly.
She peered over her shoulder and into the Crossfire's passenger seat. Nope. No movement. She could see him, shoulders slumped, head in his hands, dazed. For the moment at least. She knew it wouldn't last. Dammit Josef. Get a move on.
About a month ago she'd told Mick that he didn't need a reason to call her. Not that she was trying to beat out a human for dibs or anything.
Mick hadn't taken her up on her offer until tonight. And tonight was most certainly business.
She felt her cell vibrate from a deep pocket. Finally. A quick look at the screen told her that she was done waiting. She thumbed the connection, jumped right in: "Good evening Josef….Well get unbusy. In fact, clear your whole damned schedule. Mick went feral tonight, and I'm standing on the edge of a very ugly scene.