Chapter One – The One Constant:

I met you at St. John's Cathedral down on Amsterdam

Made a trade with the devil and he gave me your hand.

In Your Arms - The Last Goodnight

Mick St. John was not one to oversleep. Nor overdo his drink. Unless it had to do with the living fluid of humans. In that case he was very much a drinker. But today he had both overslept and had too much alcohol to drink. Not in that order since the latter almost always led to the former. Nonetheless, as he came awake from a nap nearing the early hours of morning he became aware that he had not flushed all the alcohol from his system yet.

So when he woke up he was still a bit intoxicated. He stared up into the dark room, cold streams of air drifting around his naked form. Reaching out slowly he pushed open the glass lid of his bed, allowing the coldness to siphon out silently.

With a quiet sigh he sat up and looked about, searching the room he had slept in. Dark and empty. Which was just the way he wanted it at that moment. If he'd had to awaken to bright lights and the everyday sounds of the world around him he was just about positive it would not have had a good effect on his intoxication.

He would have to remind himself to thank Josef the next time he was paid a visit.

Rising, he let himself out of the cold container and resealed it wordlessly. His fangs were coming out a bit which meant it was time for a small snack. Reaching out he pulled on some clothes he had left to the side, dressing himself absentmindedly. He would guess it was no later than one in the morning. That meant he could look into a few cases he had open, place all his focus on them and do some investigating without interruption. He crossed from his bedchamber out onto the main floor of his apartment, scanning the dimly lit rooms before changing direction and heading for his kitchen. Still on his kitchen counter were the dirty glasses he had used earlier and he still detected Josef's scent lingering in the apartment. At least he'd been in the right frame of mind earlier to clean up the bloody aspect of their night. Josef had brought a bottle of a new concoction created by some associates who also had a taste for blood and wine. Between the two of them they had finished off the entire bottle. After the wine they'd had some brandy and now only those used glasses were in evidence. He swept them up and placed them in the sink. He would get to them when he had a moment. A moment that wasn't this one.

Sliding a bit he helped himself to some stored blood he kept hidden in a refrigerated closet, reaching in for the large needle as well. His teeth were indenting his bottom lip at the mere sight of the bag of blood. Taking the items with him he floated over toward his living room and had set them down on the coffee table when he noticed movement to the side, toward the door. He glanced up at the small screen beside his door, receiving the image from the camera he had stationed right outside his apartment and caught a glimpse of blond waves before someone knocked.

Mick frowned. It was after midnight. He glanced about for his cell phone, saw it on the kitchen counter and realized he had missed a few calls. Which probably meant she had tried to get in contact with him and, upon not reaching him, had just decided to stop by and pay him a visit. He looked about for the remote to the security locks and couldn't even find that. Perhaps he was finally getting old.

The knock came again and he decided to open up manually, striding to the door but pausing to look toward his visitor reflected in the camera screen beside him.

If he had to describe Beth Turner he would say she was a classic beauty. Wavy blond hair, big blue eyes and mischief emanating from every part of her. He smiled faintly as he observed her, leaning against the door and content with merely gazing at her.

Beth Turner was the one constant in his life now besides Josef. Which said a lot since before Beth, Josef had been the only constant for decades. Other than Coraline. And he didn't want to think about her again.

"Hey! Open up already! I know you're in there!" And that was Beth's voice coming from outside, bringing him back to the present.

He stood up straight, pulling away from the door and opened it, letting it swish open silently. "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

She arched a brow at him, one hand on her hip as she stood facing him. "Do you know what a cell phone is?" she demanded in mock irritation.

"I do," he replied and then asked pointedly, "Do you know what time it is?"

She pursed her lips. "Like you really care what time it is," she said and she brushed past him, entering his apartment and already pulling her bag from her shoulder.

"Sure, Beth. Come on in. Make yourself at home. Can I get you something to drink?" he counted off as he closed the door behind her and turned to join her in the main room slowly. "Nice of you to visit but isn't it your bedtime?"

Setting down her handbag she waved her cell phone at him, another jab at the fact that he had a cell phone himself. Her expression clearly said, "See? This is a cell phone. Take an internal picture for your archives."

He merely arched his brows at her, arms crossing over his chest, an impish smile curling his lips.

"You know I'm an intrepid reporter. I sleep about as much as you do," she answered and then she tossed her phone into her bag and faced him once more.

"So?" he prodded.

"So!" she cried. "Where have you been? It's all over the news!"

"What is?"

Beth rested her hands on her hips. "Are you serious? Do you really not know what I'm referring to?" And the question came out more like a statement. Her eyes scanned the living room and then caught sight of the edges of the glasses in the sink. "How much have you had to drink?" And then, eyes widening, "And with who?"

"I love that you're so perceptive. And so inquisitive. Such a reporter," he sighed and he wound around her and plopped down on the couch, exhaling lazily. "Josef was by earlier. We had some drinks. And some more drinks. And now I have dishes. That's how life is."

"Life is drinks and dirty dishes?" Beth asked him with a wrinkle of confusion to her forehead.

Mick hesitated. "Actually there's more to life than that. I hope." And he tilted his head back to look up at her, lifting his legs and propping them on the coffee table. "So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Beth came forward a bit and also seated herself, sitting on the very edge of the couch excitedly, her body facing him. "There's been a murder. Another one," she said to him and her eyes shimmered in the dim light of the living room lamps.

Mick stared at her, eyes a bit narrowed, lips parted. "You're very worked up about it. A bit too excited," he mused with a bit of warning in his tone. "What did you leave out of that sentence?"

He would not have put it past her then to have giggled. Instead she leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Drained of blood."

Mick felt his heart tighten up just a bit. "I see."

"And," she quickly added, sliding even closer to him and she caught the small movement he made as she did so, the quick flutter of his eyes as they darted down toward her knees then back up to meet her gaze. "With the addition of a vampire bite on the neck. Of course."

"Of course," he murmured absentmindedly, seeing right through her for a moment as he reflected on that last piece of information.

"Aren't there rules about you hiding these kinds of things?" she asked him.

He arched a brow, coming back to her. "I didn't do this."

She threw him a look. "Not you, you. I mean you as in vampires."

He returned the exasperated look. "Of course there are rules, Beth. But just because there are rules doesn't mean all vampires follow them. There are rules for regular people. Not all of you follow those," he pointed out. And he exhaled. "Besides. I'm sure this will be handled before you know it. Some people have to be called in. End of story."

"Beginning of story. Beginning of juicy story," she disagreed. "They think this one is connected with the other murders, like the Fleming murder." And she raised her eyebrows as if to say, "Neat, huh?"

"The murders of the businessmen?" Mick asked with a frown. "The MO is…well, the MOs were all different in every murder so you can't even be sure those murders themselves were connected. But a vampire bite is very different from every murder committed in that group." He shook his head, grimacing. "I don't think-"

"I do," Beth cut him off. "Very much so. Anyway, I just got back from the latest crime scene. That's why I was calling you, I wanted you to come down and see it yourself, see what you can sniff out of it." And she wiggled her eyebrows once more at him in conclusion.

Her gestures were endearing, he mused, chucking inwardly.

"We can always go check out the body in the morgue," he said finally and she smiled at him at the suggestion.

"Right. Because we don't normally do that."

Mick shrugged at that. "Well, things get boring when all you do is go to a morgue. What's a date supposed to think when all they see are dead bodies?" He shook his head as if the mere thought was preposterous.

"Date?'

His eyes shifted toward her for a moment in confusion before he realized that he had indeed just said that. And the moment was suddenly strained. His lips parted to explain that he hadn't meant to say that, that he had meant to say something entirely different but had he? He hesitated, drowning the moment in awkwardness.

And then she said, "Fine, a date. Whatever. Just check it out for me." And as an afterthought, "please."

He paused, gazing at her for a long silent moment.

Beth arched an eyebrow at him. And he knew what she said with the gesture.

We both know there's more to this but I'm leaving the ball in your court. Whenever you're ready just tell me. And I'll handle the rest on my side.

"I'll look into it," he offered her with a careful look.

And she broke into a smile. "That's all I ask."