Blood Leverage
A/N: Hello everyone. This story is a sequel to my other TVD fic "An Unexpected Return". Both stories are slightly AU from the show, diverging from continuity from around episode 2:15. This story will follow the continuity of my previous story and make references to it, so it might be an idea to read "An unexpected Return" first. The timeline of "Blood Leverage" picks up about a year after Unexpected ended. Elena and Stefan are away at college and Damon is holding down the fort in Mystic Falls alone.
Prologue: Death of a salesman
Zane Edgley parked his car down an abandoned slip road off the Old Fell's Road about fifty yards away from the turning leading down to the Salvatore property. He'd already scoped out the area and traffic along this road at this time of night was almost non-existent. Still on the off-chance anyone drove by, Zane made sure his car was far enough down the slip road that no one would see it from the main road. He grabbed a pocket flashlight from the glove compartment and started off through the woods toward the Salvatore place.
The intelligence he'd gathered stated that the building was undergoing a major refurbishment, something about renovating the former boarding house so the owners could rent it out as a corporate retreat and function centre. As Zane emerged from the edge of the woods and looked up at the building, scaffolding silhouetted in the moonlight like a spindly exoskeleton, Zane figured his intel was right on the money -and if it was right about the refurb it just might be about the rest too.
Zane flipped off his flashlight and skirted the boundary of the property grounds until he could make his approach up the long gravel driveway. He couldn't see any lights on in the front of the house, but he knew the target was home. He'd watched the guy wile away half the night at the Grill in town before driving home about an hour ago.
Zane had done his background checks on this guy. He had one younger brother currently in college out of state and no other family. He was also a creature of habit. He spent his weekdays either working with the town council or on the refurbishment. His evenings were spent at the Grill, sometimes drinking with a blond guy who taught at the local high school, sometimes alone, and then he came home, usually between the hours of eleven and midnight. Weekends he deviated from the routine slightly, every other week the mark would drove out of state to visit with his brother or some chick at the same college, other times he'd take business trips out of town. Apparently this guy was in real estate and owned a couple of high rent condominiums in Massachusetts and the mid-west.
What all this boiled down to was that the mark would be home completely alone right now. This was the moment Zane had been waiting for. Crunching up the drive Zane faltered for just moment as a security light flashed on above the boarding house door bathing him in blinding halogen luminance. The door to the property opened as Zane blinked back ugly dancing afterimages from the corners of his vision.
"This is private property: leave now," A man drawled lazily, "Before I kick your ass back to the womb."
The mark stood in the doorway. Or rather he lounged against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest with a half empty bottle of dark liquor, most likely scotch, dangling from one hand. Dazzled by the security light Zane couldn't clearly see the man's face but his voice sounded bored and just faintly hostile. For some reason Zane imagined that well fed tigers might sound like that, or an indolent lion out on the Savannah who couldn't be bothered to chase down the gazelle stupid enough to venture into his range.
"Mr Salvatore?" Zane cleared his throat and ignored the neck ruffling sense of unease creeping up his spine. "My name's Zane Edgley. Mayor Lockwood might have mentioned me?"
"Ugh, you've got to be kidding me," The mark growled under his breath and shifted away from the doorframe.
Now Zane was a pretty observant guy, it was part of the job, he'd also spent years studying body language, and right now the guy in front of him was giving off some pretty powerful 'back off' signals. Still Zane hadn't come all the way out here, and spent the last week gathering a dossier on this town and this guy in particular just to back off now. He pasted his best, 'hail fellow well met' smile on his face and launched into his pre-prepared spiel.
"I'm sorry for the late call. I know it's not exactly visiting hours, but you're a difficult man to pin down." Or at least he was all the times Zane had tried to corner him during the day. It was weird but this guy seemed to have an almost preternatural ability to disappear just when Zane felt sure he had him cornered. "I was really hoping I could talk to you. Mayor Lockwood was insistent that you were the guy to call about my particular line of work."
"Paranormal investigation," the mark, Salvatore, sounded more bored by the minute, yet his body language, relaxed and easy, but deceptively so, screamed suppressed violence. "You think there are vampires in Mystic Falls." Zane wasn't sure but he thought he saw the faint flash of teeth, a sardonic half-smile, half-snarl, appear and disappear like magic on the mark's face.
Salvatore stepped away from the doorway then and Zane had a chance to catalogue all the odd little things that didn't quite add up about the mark as he stepped off the front stoop. Without a doubt Salvatore was good looking and he moved with the easy confidence of someone who knew just how far his looks could take him. Slim built and not particularly tall, his short dark hair was ruffled and he wore a mask of bored nonchalance on his attractive features like models wore designer clothes. Yet despite the expensive cut of his jeans and pure silk shirt there was something about Salvatore, an undercurrent of something rougher than his manicured appearance, which belied the illusion of carefree playboy. Salvatore swung his liquor bottle lazily in one hand, and it was that slow pendulum-like motion that set Zane's teeth on edge. He had the feeling this man was assessing him, the way a cat watched a field mouse, waiting to see if it would try and bolt or simply roll over and die.
"Mr Salvatore," Zane smiled through his teeth and did his best to ignore the warning calls from his lizard brain to run and run fast. "I know there are vampires in Mystic Falls." He paused for a beat, as was his usual practice. "And so do you."
Despite the suspicion that this mark wasn't the easy prey he was used to Zane couldn't help the slight quiver of excitement that crept over him now. This was his favourite part of the con after all; the moment when the mark twitched, that 'oh-shit' moment, as Zane tended to think of it. This was the moment Zane lived for, because like a magic key, it opened all the doors he needed to get what he wanted. He waited in silent anticipation, but Salvatore didn't do anything except lift the bottle to his lips and take a long swig.
"Prove it." He said flatly.
Zane was too practiced at this gig to let his surprise, or wariness of Salvatore, ruin his performance. He was already continuing with his pre-rehearsed sales pitch before his mind caught up with his mouth.
"It's pretty obvious to a seasoned investigator like myself. Mountain lion attacks in a region with no indigenous big cat species? A higher than average missing person rate for a town of this size; the sheer number of unexplained events in this county, and all occurring in a short space of time? Mr Salvatore really, it's palpably obvious that this town is beset by a supernatural and malign element."
Zane paused again, practiced and smooth, to allow what he'd just said to sink in. It never ceased to amaze him how these small town folks could be so stupid as to think that no one would notice what went on in their creepy, insular little towns. Hell Mystic Falls had so many of the text book indicators of supernatural activity that Zane had at first thought it had to be a hoax. Now however he was beginning to see Mystic Falls as a windfall, a veritable goldmine Zane could not wait to exploit.
"I'm sure you've been managing as well as you can against the scourge of undead but, and I say this with the utmost respect, I would like you to consider what I, as a professional paranormal expert, could offer you, and this town, in regards my expertise..."
"I was right," Salvatore interrupted him right before he could get to the good part - the part that involved his hourly rates. "You are a moron."
"Mr Salvatore," Zane began again, still smooth, still cool, still collected despite the fact that those little warning bells were ringing very loudly now. "I assure you that..."
He didn't get to finish because he suddenly realised Salvatore was no longer standing five feet in front of him. Zane blinked, opened his mouth - and something grabbed him from behind. One vice like arm clamped around his upper chest as a savage voice, smelling of scotch, sneered in his ear.
"I am so dumping your body behind the porno theatre on route sixteen."
Strong hands grasped Zane's head. Then there was a sharp, echoing crack, and a brilliant flash of pain, like a firework exploding through every nerve in his body, and Zane Edgley was dead before his body hit the driveway.