So This was supposed to be the chapter before I brought in our trio, but alas... I still have a lot of explaining/setting up to do and realized this chapter would run forever so I decided to publish what I've got and finish it up later in another chapter...

I swear - I'll get to Hal, Tom, and Alex eventually! :)

As always, I own no product referenced below. And definitely not the wonderful Being Human.

Thanks to all my readers and MancVamp for her review - please people, let me know what you think. :) It really cheers me up and inspires me to keep writing this!

~Chapter 4

There was a knock on a wall and footsteps—vampires, one, two, three, no, four of them by the smell of it. Vampires entering presumptively because they could, for once. They always felt smug when they could do that—she could practically feel the satisfaction in Walter's voice as he drawled theatrically "Bryn daaaarhling."

Bryn slowly tucked her cross away, turned, and rose up to greet the intruders. At just over six feet, she was unnaturally tall—especially for a woman. Bryn knew this. And she knew it made an impression; people tended to find her intimidating. Not only was she tall, she was supremely fit: shoulders too broad to be ladylike, lean and toned within an inch of her life (and her life did depend on it).

Walter, who was a good five inches shorter then Bryn, smiled rather gingerly as she sauntered up to him. He did not care to be reminded of the height difference. He held out the long stem red roses in his arms towards her like he was brandishing a weapon.

What did he want? Bryn was in no mood to try to decipher a pushy vampire's needs. The wrong demanding vampire, as it happened. Where was Richard? Or Lovell? What had happened to make Walter come? Something was up. Bryn felt her neck gingerly—it was still sore from last night's fight. All she wanted to do was sleep. But then you didn't get very far in life when you gave in to your weaker cravings. And she needed to be fully alert; Walter's presence was proof enough of that.

"Another triumph." Sighed Walter. The fat vampire was as melodramatic as ever. He pressed his free hand to his heart, turning his head to the side and looking up at her with an air of infinite ecstasy. One of his bodyguards—a handsomely tanned and proudly muscular blond—glowered. The other bodyguard, who had survived Walter long enough to recognize his superior's eccentricities, merely stared into the distance.

"Walter." Smiled Bryn, eyebrows dancing. "What a pleasant surprise."

Seeing Walter may have been a surprise, but it was not a pleasant one. Bryn knew the vampire— she knew a lot of vampires. Walter had backed the pack from the early days; as head of the Los Angeles vampire coven there was no getting around him. He'd been—amused—but had lamented on the lack of bloodshed in the matches. According to Walter, their fights were certainly novel—very enlightening. But so déclassé. Like Nascar—opiate for the masses. What had happened to real dogfights? But it was a brave new world, werewolves were expensive and apt to be troublesome, and if Bryn had an idea for extending the money that could be got out of the fighting animals, so be it. He'd also tried to stiff them their fee once, which had resulted in a tussle and a dead vampire before their understanding had been reaffirmed.

Walter had always been somewhat of a fan, occasionally attending their matches and sending the odd congratulatory note. But the congratulatory notes were always vaguely dismissive—the underlying hint was that they could do so much better than this. It was annoying, particularly when he showed up unannounced and with none of the regular vampires in sight.

Who was she supposed to hand the money over to if no one came? They couldn't hang around Kiev forever, it courted danger and the possibility of "dognapping" increased the longer they stayed in an area—especially after a match.

"Brynhild."Being a thoughtful vampire, Walter would throw her stage name in. To remind her of her place, she supposed.

He shook his head and held out the blood roses out before snatching them back. "I thought you had retired." The tone was teasing, accusational—and a pointed question.

"If I didn't turn up in the ring every so often you might begin to question my suitability." Her voice was terser than she intended, but she couldn't help it. Seeing Walter in that unfortunate double-breasted pinstripe suit, simpering away while he toyed with the idea of how much trouble to try for—it set her teeth on edge. The only way Walter could have been any more massive was if he had thrown some horizontal stripes into his wardrobe.

"Had I known you were in the ring, I might have come." Walter continued. "As it is, I hear you had a little competition. Isn't that so Jim?"

The fourth vampire rounded the corner and leaned negligently against the wall. "The bitch lacked the usual….control…." He said and took out a cigarette. His light blue eyes gleamed.

"Oh dear." Walter sucked in, contorting his face. "We can't have that! Dogs need to know their place—I thought that was the whole point of your—endeavor—my dear."

Bryn knew she was rising to the bait, but anger got the better of her. No Richard to collect the money, Walter turning up, and now Jim! Why hadn't she noticed Jim last night? Why hadn't she smelled him just now, recognized his scent? And why hadn't Rob told her he'd been there? Because Rob knew what her reaction to Jim would be and he'd wanted her controlled in the match. It felt like she was losing it.

"Walter," she smiled through her teeth, pointedly ignoring Jim. "I'm touched. I know you're just dying to see me rip someone's head off, but this is a waste of time. I provide a valuable service and we pay our bills."

"Speaking of bills…"

A tingling sensation gripped Bryn, a prickling of the nerves that ran up her spine. She braced herself. "Yes?" She asked, though her mind was in turmoil. It had been a good seven years, but she knew the footsteps of doom when she heard them.