"I'm telling you, Mircea isn't here!" The vampire hissed at him.
"Then maybe you should tell me where he is?" Maarten pressed his gun against the vampires chest and smirked "trust me when I say you won't survive if you don't,"
"I don't know where he is!"
"Liar," Maarten frowned and pulled the trigger, a look of disgust on his face as the vampire slumped lifeless to the floor.

"Useless," he grumbled as the vampire's body crumbled into dust.
Another dead end.
But one vampire less in the world.

Small steps, he reminded himself. Small steps.
One less creature in this world was a step forward.

Maarten sighed, his thirst was building up again.
Which meant he was going to call it a day.

Both his leads on Mircea had been dead ends; no help to be found in solving this puzzle.
Erik was trying to find a better drug, while also attempting to figure out why Mircea had turned his brother.
His old friend was seemingly impossible to contact, a fact that had only made Maarten worried.

Mircea was planning something. But what?
He didn't know how far he could trust Francis, because while he had been helpful and upheld his part of the deal - Maarten couldn't help shake off the feeling that Francis knew more than he let on.
Halldór could say what he wanted; Maarten didn't trust any vampire.
He barely trusted other humans.

With heavy steps, Maarten made his way back to the mansion; almost glad to step within the doors and hear voices.
He had gotten used to silence and being alone when he took up witch hunting (and then eventually vampire hunting), people seldom wanted to hang out with a killer. Even if said killer was doing a public service.
But now everything was on its head.

He was suddenly living with five others. Two humans and three vampires. With the addition of six vampires locked up in the basement. It was surreal and hard to wrap his mind around it all.
On one hand he wanted to kill all of them; ensure there was nothing but dust left.
However; he needed Erik and his pharmacology skills. If he killed Halldór then Erik wouldn't forgive him, and then he would likely go mad and wild too quickly. The serum was doing wonders. Maarten couldn't afford to lose it now.

And Francis, for all his flamboyance and jokes, was a vital piece in the puzzle of information.
He had admitted to being at least five hundred years old. If not a little older.
"I forget," he had shrugged "you live one century and then another, and suddenly time just doesn't matter,"
Halldór had looked terribly uncomfortable when Francis had spoken about being immortal.

"I'll watch my brother die, won't I?" He had asked softly when Erik was out of earshot.
"Unless Maarten here kills you before that… Yes," Francis had not smiled, instead he had gazed out the window silently for a while.
"Just don't give me a reason to kill you and I won't," Maarten had mumbled.
"It's not all bad living forever!" Veronique had interjected with, putting on a smile that to Maarten looked all too forced.
"You'll still have us!"

"But… How do you keep on living when people around you die?"
Halldór pulled at the buttons on his shirt and looked around nervously. "I mean, it's great to know you guys are here. But… Erik. No one can replace him,"
"He's your older brother. Even if you had remained human he would most likely die before you," Maarten said bluntly and took a swig of his beer.

"What?" He said when he noticed they were all staring at him.
"Have you not got someone close to you?" Veronique whispered.
"Someone who you couldn't bare to see suffer?"

Maarten froze.

"He clearly does," Francis said softly, tapping his fingernails against his wineglass.

Shit, Maarten thought; feeling too warm and uncomfortable.
"A lover? A sibling?" France smiled softly.
"That's none of your business," Maarten narrowed his eyes and glared.
"It just might be soon enough. If you hold someone dear, what's to say that Mircea doesn't know?"

Maarten felt his blood drain from his face and his vision go blurry.
His sister.
He hadn't thought that she might be in danger.

"I…I need to go," he stammered forward as he tried to stand up. However; his legs refused to work, and if it haven't been for Francis and Halldór coming to his aid - he would have crashed to the floor.
"Sit," Francis ordered. "You are in no state to do anything,"
"But I need to warn her,"
"Warn who?" Veronique asked and gave him a concerned look.

"My sister," Maarten whispered, not caring if the three vampires were on his side or not.

"Sister?" Halldór looked between Francis and Veronique.

"Anika de Vries," Cecilé said as she entered the room with a stack of paper.
"A small town restaurant owner. Recently married a certain rich man.."

"What!?" Maarten was in his feet so fast Francis and Halldór had to jump to ensure he didn't fall flat on his face.
"Do you not send cards?" She looked at him disapprovingly as she flipped through the papers "Honestly, you're as bad with people as Erik. He would isolate himself from me if I didn't remind him from time to time that couples are supposed to be around one another sometimes…"

"How do you know who she is?" Maarten asked, wringing his arms free from Francis and Halldór's grip.
"Oh please. Do you think I'm just here to be Erik's pretty looking secretary?" Cecilé glared up at him over the brim of her glasses, "I have the right contacts to find out everyone's birth details and criminal records if I so wish,"
"I don't doubt it," Francis chuckled.
"But married?"

Maarten wanted nothing more than to sprint out the mansion right this very moment, but something about the stack of papers in Cecile's hands told him he should wait and listen.
"To Arthur Kirkland," Cecilé handed him the copy of the marriage certificate, and Maarten was sure his blood froze in his veins.
The whole room fell silent as he simply stared at the document.

"At least we found Arthur…?" Halldór tried, but the glare Maarten shot him sent him back in to silence.
Six months.
His sister had been married for six months.
And he had not noticed.
Or known.

Maarten felt sick.
Sick, angry and dizzy.
"My sister… Married a black magic enthusiast?"
"More like she married one of the richest and most influential business men in Britain. But sure… I suppose you could also call him a black magic enthusiast," Cecilé shrugged.
"We found him at least," Veronique smiled.
"But what's the next step?" Halldór asked, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "Are we just going to ask him if he's seen Mircea lately?"

"He either won't have or will have, and won't tell us…" Francis scratched his chin and let Maarten stumbled forward to peer at the rest of the papers Cecilé held.
"I don't like this at all…" Maarten grumbled "I feel like a cog in some great big machine…"
"Or a line in some master play," Francis sighed.

"But there has to be a link? This can't all be a coincidence can it?" Veronique bit her lip and looked around at the others.
"True," Cecilé nodded "at this stage I think we are all just pieces on Mircea's chess set…"
"But what links us together?" Halldór scratched his head "beyond Maarten that is…."

Everyone froze and stared at him.
"Maarten is our only common link right now…right?" Halldór swallowed nervously.
"Beyond Erik's dabble with the magic club at school, everything comes down to you Maarten…"
"But I caught you by pure luck or accident… It could have been any other vampire instead of you," Maarten felt like he was treading water with lead boots on. Slowly sinking beneath cold waves.
"You're a hunter. You would have gotten to him eventually…" Francis mused.

"But I could have killed him. Mircea couldn't predict I would capture vampires to experiment on them… Could he?"

The silence that filled the room was so stifling Maarten wasn't sure he could breathe properly.

"There's one thing that does't fit…" Cecilé cleared her throat, "and that's the time frame…"
"Oh?" Francis looked intrigued.
"Halldór was turned five years ago. Maarten, you said you began witch hunting when you were twenty one, and went over to vampire hunting five years later. You were turned a little under a year ago…"
"Mircea turned Halldór about the same time you started hunting vampires," Francis added, doing the rough mental math.
"And let's not forget that Erik is 32 this year and graduated when he was 23… So he left university to start this business about the same time you began your witch hunting career…" Cecilé bit her lip.

"Maarten wasn't a threat to Mircea or us until five years ago…" Francis mumbled and sank down into his chair.
"Could Mircea have been planning something big for over fourteen years… Or more?" Halldór asked worriedly.
"Who knows," Francis shrugged "When you live forever you've got plenty of time to perfect some grand master plan,"

"I don't know about you all… But I'm scared," Halldór muttered.
"Me too…" Veronique nodded in agreement.
"Well, we are six against one possibly two people," Francis chuckled lightheartedly and smiled, "Surely we have the upper hand?"
"We can hope," Cecilé shuddered.

"Seven," Erik said as he entered the room with another man in tow, "we have seven people to our team,"

Maarten stared at the man standing behind Erik. There as something familiar yet oddly alien about the man, and it wasn't just the white hair and red eyes.
"Gilbert?!" Francis rushed to greet the man so quickly Maarten swore he had moved like a blur.
"The one and only," the man grinned and Maarten caught the glimmer of fangs.
Vampire.

"Another one?" He hissed.
"One of our patients actually," Erik coughed "do you not recognise him?"
"Our little experiments are malformed and twisted monsters,"
"Not after a long treatment dose of our serum…"

Maarten stared at the newest addition to their little group.
Another vampire.
Another monster who now presented himself so human it was hard to believe the two had been the same.

"You two know one another?" Cecilé stepped closer to Erik as she regarded the two vampires.

"Gilbert and I go far back," Francis smiled.
"We faught in the crusades together," the white haired vampire added with a grin.
"Ah yes, good times," Francis got a far away look in his eyes "no one cares how you kill someone in war as long as you appear to take sides,"
"And no one notices that you don't age when your comrades are changed out every week or so," Gilbert smirked.

"Fascinating, I'm sure," Maarten rolled his eyes, "Erik, why have you released him?"
"Because he has information,"
"Well he could have just told you what he knows instead of you letting him loose," Maarten hissed.
"Calm down," Gilbert laughed "I'm not going to cause trouble,"

"I wasn't talking to you, vampire," Maarten hissed and turned his attention back to Erik.
"Are you even thinking? You and Cecilé are the only people here who are fully humans here,"
"I am aware of that," Erik crossed his arms.
"And yet you let another vampire free?"
"It's my home and this battle is just as much mine as yours,"

Maarten opened his mouth to say something else, but everyone's eyes were on him now and something about their expression was making him uneasy. This was not the kind of attention he wanted at all.
"We will speak later then," he hissed under his breath.

"Gilbert," Francis tapped the man in the shoulder "what happened to you?"
"Oh, you know, nothing much," he laughed,
"You've been missing for a good fifteen years…" Francis looked concerned.
"There's a virus of sorts going around…" Erik cut in "it's probably existed for a long time, but it appears to be what causes vampires to become so wild,"
"I thought it was because we drank too much blood," Veronique looked a little anxious.
"It's possibly partly due to that," Erik nodded.

"Oh…." Francis swallowed nervously and embraced Gilbert.
"I got a bit too greedy I think. And then suddenly I felt like I couldn't control myself…" Gilbert looked utterly ashamed.
"You should have asked for help,"
"By the time I realised, it was too late,"

"So now we have some kind if vampire flu going around?" Maarten crossed his arms, this was not a direction he had anticipated.
"I think it stems from the build up of calcium and iron. Vampires can't process it, and if they get too much of it their body starts to try to place the excess minerals other places," Erik explained slowly.
"Explains the hideous appearance," Maarten smirked.
"Behave," Cecilé elbowed him hard in the side and frowned. He hadn't even noticed her sneak up on him.
Maarten had to admire the stealth of someone who could be so silent in heels.

Then again, she was about half his height; which had led him to on numerous occasions almost tripping over her (which had equal parts annoyed her and amused Erik).

"The good thing is that with our research we can give vampires the nutrition they need without the things that make them addicted or unwell," Erik smiled a little triumphantly.
"Great. So now we're also making vampire vitamins?"
"If you don't like my work you can go back do doing your own research in your own little office," Erik sneered angrily.
Maarten shuddered at the thought of having to drink the drug again.
"No thank you,"
"Then shut up and listen to the rest of the people in here,"

Maarten grumbled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, he had a strong urge to smash Erik's nose in again, but there were currently four vampires who would surely take his side. So he would just have to let it go for now.

"I'm not sure of Mircea's current whereabouts," Gilbert said and smiled slyly "But I know where his main house is and I think I might know a little piece of the puzzle. Hell," Gilbert laughed "I might just solve your little mystery."