A/N: Sorry for the delay folks. It has been a while - I think roughly two/three months now, but my university obligations are so great right now and it's only because it's the Christmas season that I've found some time to finish this chapter. I hope it's adequate. Please expect another lengthy delay however. My apologies.

Chapter Ten

"So the results are in," Kankuro entered into the joint office the subsequent afternoon holding a folder full of documents. He slid into his chair and proceeded to remove a few of the files, rifling through them swiftly. "That bullet we found is a match apparently. At least we know that the two scenes are linked."

His partner was stationed behind her desk, fingers tapping away continuously, just as he had left her before he had gone for a break. He had noticed that ever since their last investigation at the club, she had allowed the work to consume her. He supposed that it shouldn't have been surprising. Temari was an avid workaholic and whenever she had a hunch about something, she would not let up until she was able to put together the pieces. Her only source of acknowledgement was a quiet grunt and a nod of the head as her fingers drilled a course along the keys. The brown-haired detective shook his head somewhat, setting a few of the exposed documents on his desk. One of them caught his eye.

"Also, that hair follicle you found," he spoke. His partner inclined her head slightly, but her eyes were still focused on the screen. "It was untraceable."

Temari manoeuvred her head back to its original position. "A synthetic fibre, perhaps?" she queried.

"That's the thing," came the response. "It gave off all the readings of a typical human hair, but what's strange is that, apparently, the follicle's over fifty years old." An annoyed sigh escaped through his lips as he leaned back into his chair. "I dunno. None of this is adding up. What would an old man be doing in a club like that? And it didn't match any of the victims either. I mean I thought we'd just had a breakthrough by linking the two scenes, but it seems like we've taken two steps back as usual."

The room fell silent for a while and it lead Kankuro to question whether his sister had heard what he had said. He spoke up again. "What are you doing anyway?"

"Research!" The blonde responded.

"On what?"

"That symbol I found – at the last crime scene – I'm trying to trace it,"

"Oh…that…"

"Did you manage to find anything?"

"Not particularly – sounds like another wild goose chase to me," Kankuro spoke; his tone was bored. "I mean, come on! It's probably just some sick, twisted murderer trying to make his mark. It's nothing we haven't seen before."

"…I'm not…so sure…" he heard her fingers strike a key a little harder than usual and consequently, the printer on her desk proceeded to whirr into action. Kankuro's brows furrowed. "I've been working on it for a couple of days now – trying to isolate a source - but I think I've found something."

He sat up and rose out of his chair at that one. "Really?" he was curious. Again, it shouldn't have been surprising. Even if Temari was wrong, her searches usually concluded somewhere. He strode across the room towards his sister's desk and saw as she slid her fingers over the printed sheet and handed it to him. He glanced at the symbol briefly – this one boldly imprinted in black ink in contrast to the bloody mess he had seen on the body – before deviating his attention to the computer screen. On it, Temari had accessed a piece of text – the very same which was being printed. The writing itself was old and handwritten, making it very difficult to read; it was as if an old piece of parchment that had been scanned onto whatever database she had found it on.

Temari continued. "A few hundred years ago, this symbol was a crest belonging to an ancient noble family – the name of that family is unknown. My sources tell me, however, that they were once highly regarded, but were evidently driven out because of treachery. Since then, their family line virtually disappeared. There are no records of them after 1604AD. No pictures. No nothing. Nobody knows if they were executed or whether they just simply died out."

"Yeah, but what relevance does this have to the crime scene?"

"Well…I was thinking there might be a link…"

Kankuro ran a hand through his hair. His expression was quizzical.

"Well, there might be," Temari pressed, undeterred by her brother. "It's not unusual for people to mysteriously disappear, only to appear several dozen years later."

"I don't know...it just seems a bit too much like a conspiracy theory," Kankuro explained. "And right now, we need cold, hard facts. I mean, where did you find that symbol in the first place? You said you'd seen it from somewhere before, right?"

He noticed his sister twitch awkwardly. "Well..." she eventually began. "I found it on a website...dedicated to...vampires..."

Kankuro's eyes widened; his lips parted in disbelief. He could not believe he was hearing correctly. Had his sister just said what he'd thought he'd heard? He opened his mouth to retaliate, but she intervened.

"I know what you're thinking..."

"Good!" He snapped. "Then you know that your search has been a complete waste of time. I mean, Temari. You of all people?" He manoeuvred from his station at her desk back towards his own, for he was unable to look at her. "You know that the internet is useless and this vampire stuff...don't tell me, you actually believe that old women from the bar?"

"I'm not sure what I believe anymore, Kankuro," Temari pressed a finger and thumb into her forehead and massaged the location where a headache was threatening to appear. "I mean, you didn't hear what she said to me...and I know...it's completely off the mark, completely unlike me, but I feel like...I have a hunch."

"A hunch isn't good enough!" His voice was louder than he'd anticipated.

"Don't you think I know that?" Temari's voice exploded and her brother was confronted by the full force of her fury; she was not one to be talked down to. "Don't you think that I've been questioning everything? I mean, all this evidence that we're finding; none of it seems to make sense, none of it seems to link. Nothing is pointing us in the right direction, which is why I decided to consider other options. I mean, what have you contributed to this investigation, huh?" He flinched at this statement. "What research have you looked into? This partnership has always been one-sided and you know it?"

"Now that's not fair," Kankuro retorted; he swivelled around to face her; she had arisen from her seat, her arms folded across her chest, indicating her irritation. "You've always had to go that one step further. I mean, face it Temari. You're always working, always looking, always doing something. I'm starting to think that maybe this isn't even about the case. Maybe it's about something else."

Temari's lips tightened; her eyes dictated displeasure. No words surfaced as she tilted her head away from him.

Kankuro's voice softened. "It's about that time, isn't it?" He exhaled, knowing very well that his sister had never truly gotten over it, even though many a time, she had expressed otherwise.

He had wondered whether she had been up to the task – most of it said in jest even though his concern had been genuine. He had been watching his sister even though she probably hadn't noticed – watching her reactions at the crime scenes – because that time resembled those scenes. Blood stained walls and strange markings – he remembered it clearly; he knew that he would never forget it either. But while he, himself, was better equipped to deal with it, he wasn't so sure about his sister. "Temari..."

"This has nothing to do with that time," the blonde interrupted. The fact that both her head and gaze remained averted implied differently. "I just...I just..."

There was a sudden rap upon their office door, which caused both individuals to glance towards the object in question. Temari verbally beckoned the individual to enter and the door was opened, presenting one of the admin staff carrying an envelope that very much resembled the one they had received before – the one that lead them to the dingy bar and the crazy old woman.

"Another message for you," the admin stated. He presented the envelope to Temari before disappearing from the room. The lettering on the front was also, a rough match to what had been written before.

"What's it saying this time?" Kankuro asked. He tried to withhold his lack of enthusiasm. He was sure it was that old woman again.

The blonde withdrew the message and scanned it briefly. She lifted her eyes and gazed towards her partner. "It's an address," she responded. "A new one."

"This is it?" Naruto's voice questioned as they stepped out of the vehicle and onto solid ground. The air was cold that night, so much so that the female werewolf that was accompanying him drew her coat around herself.

"Yes," came her annoyed response as a stream of cold air tugged at her clothing. "Now try to keep quiet. He might be expecting us."

"Is there a chance, he might have already left then?" the blond lycan queried, scratching his head.

"Nah! I doubt it," Kiba's voice sauntered from the outside of the vehicle. When he emerged alongside the others, the pale-faced vampire was situated ahead of him – her eyes cast on the ground as was her usual demeanour.

For a while now, she had been very useful to their cause, he would have to admit. Every significant lycan location – whether a community building or residential facility – had been evacuated or properly guarded because of her input. She has successfully managed to predict the movements of her vampire brethren in order for them to remain one step ahead. This had resulted in the least amount of bloodshed – much to Shikamaru and Sakura's satisfaction, but Kiba and Naruto's chagrin – but had also, seen to it that the pride that was obvious amongst the vampire race had been well and truly downsized. At the same, time, however, while her input had been noteworthy, he still didn't trust her. None of them did really. She was still locked away like any other prisoner, but sustained on the blood of dying animals instead of humans. It might have explained why she appeared a little more gaunt than usual – he was aware that, while they were supposed to be keeping their existence a secret from the humans, there were still some who fed on them regularly. He no longer needed to be rough with her nonetheless. She was extremely obedient and would go where she was told, but the brash brunette was waiting for that one moment when she decided to defy them - that one moment where she'd set a foot wrong – because when that time came, he'd be ready for her.

"I agree," Shikamaru's voice was hushed as he peered up at the rundown apartment building in front of them. The structure was only three storeys high and looked like it had once been an off-the-road hotel for any travellers driving in and out of town. Most of the windows were either blacked out, filthy or broken; a few squares of light indicated that life still resided inside the building nevertheless. The walls, however, were painted with graffiti; the stairs leading into the structure were chipped and worn and even the door of the building itself was hanging awkwardly as if it had one too many times been knocked off its hinges. Shikamaru exhaled. "He won't run. He's not the type."

"Sounds like an adventure, ey Naruto?" Kiba implied with verve. Naruto grinned in agreement, but his grin shortly disappeared as he took note of Sakura's less-than-impressed expression.

"This is not the time for you two to go off flexing your muscles," she hissed at them. "Remember why you're here!"

Kiba snorted at that remark. For he knew very well why they were all there. Shikamaru and Sakura could have done this alone if they'd wanted to, but there was no telling whether Gaara was still as hostile as Shikamaru had described him. Naruto was basically there for backup. It would have been Sai or Chouji in place of Naruto, but the blond had insisted he go; he had implied that it was so he could see Gaara firsthand, but Kiba was sure it had everything to do with the pink-haired lycan and her impending presence; what was so intriguing about Sakura was beyond him, however. As for Kiba, himself, though he would be regarded as additional muscle as well, he knew that he was there because of the vampire. The plan tonight was to try and negotiate an alliance with Gaara and in doing so, they had to prove that in some way or other, they – as a unified lycan group of many decades – had every chance of winning in the war against their vampire nemeses. The proof was the vampires – informed as she was of - who had sworn her allegiance to them. Kiba was also, there to oversee her, just as Shikamaru had asked of him.

They approached the building and no sooner has Kiba passed through the shabby entrance, he was met with the stench of urine and cigarettes. The walls were bare and discoloured, the floors had been tiled, but they too were also, a far cry away from clean. The hallways were half-heartedly lit – where one bulb was bright, another had blown and another was flickering dangerously, threatening to darken the already limited light supply. There was no lift, so the only option was to take the stairs. He followed the group intently, Sakura at the helm and himself at the rear. The vampiress kept her head lowered as they manoeuvred accordingly. They ascended to the second floor.

The corridors were similar to the one below – flickering lights and stained walls; a cobweb had fashioned itself inside the joining of the wall and ceiling; a smooth trail of moisture was gradually trickling downward from a tiny hole onto the ground, creating a small puddle. The group stepped past it and Kiba wrinkled his nose at the smell as it intensified. He attempted to sense passed it, keen to remain aware just in case their target decided to launch an ambush instead. Never in his life had he had to battle another werewolf before. Most were cautious, but rarely hostile to their own kind unless given incentive. Gaara, nevertheless, was a different category of lycan altogether. Shikamaru had described him as a general threat – he did not discriminate. This meant that Kiba could not discriminate either.

Sakura stopped before one of doors. It was a dusty brown colour and, unlike the others, it had no number plate. Only a stodgy outline of residue remained in its place – too far overcast to dictate the actual number. They gathered around the door and Sakura glanced at Shikamaru, who nodded in gesture. Her hand then rose to the door and she rapped upon it three times. They waited in anticipation and Kiba noticed the vampiress suck in her breath.

At first, there was nothing. The door remained unanswered. Again, there was every possibility that he may not have been there, but the impression he was getting from the household dictated otherwise. There was a fresh scent on the door – one that was recent. It did not deviate away from the locale in question which meant that whoever had entered had not left. Whether they were still alive, nonetheless, was questionable. But he could not smell blood – also, of which was questionable. He presumed the others had sensed it too as Sakura lifted her hand again to knock. However, before her hand made contact, she stopped it from doing so and Kiba's hearing stretched through the doorframe in curiosity. For now, he could sense movement as it timidly proceeded towards them.

A tentative shift in the bolts on the door permitted the door to open, but what they saw on the other side was what they all had not expected. A flurry of neck-length brown hair encompassed the face of a young human girl who looked to be no more then on the cusp of late-adolescence. Her dark eyes peered up at them curiously, albeit they displayed a type of coldness that was uncommon. Her hands hung onto the door in an almost supporting method, but it did not seem to be out of fear. She spoke clearly. "Gaara-sama has been expecting you." And she pulled open the door to grant them access.

They glanced amongst each other curiously. If they had been expecting anything, they had not been expecting this. Sakura stepped into the interior, cautiously – her gaze lingered on the human, who glanced nervously away and along the corridor ahead of them. "He is waiting for you there," she gestured, as one by one, they entered into the shabby little apartment.

"What's with the human?" Naruto whispered, when they were slightly out of earshot.

"That's what I want to know," Kiba whispered back.

The blonde sniggered. "Maybe he's got a harem!"

"Be quiet!" Came Sakura's hiss; she glanced at Naruto, who immediately silenced himself again as they manoeuvred through the corridor.

The air was cold and though the interior was not nearly as bad as it was on the outside, it wasn't the homiest of arrangements. It was grey in colour; some of the wallpaper was peeling and there was no carpet, where instead the floorboards were visible and in need of sanding. There was no light in the hallway corridor; the bulbs were missing. There were three closed doors – two on the right and one on the left-hand side of the corridor; all mirrored the same fashion of the front door – brown and aged. The only light that was visible was that which resided in the room at the end of the corridor; this door was wide open and well into the room, Kiba could see into another room where a cooker was present – a kitchen perhaps. As they approached, however, the presence of the additional being became more pronounced.

They entered into a makeshift living room. Like the rest of the house, it wasn't very welcoming. The walls were a beige colour – like the outside corridors, probably due from years of neglect; the floor was a grey marble and in need of dusting. The room was void of much furniture. The only items that were present were a rickety table and chair, a broken bookshelf, a futon and a worn sofa. Upon said sofa, however, was a young man with emerald eyes that were extremely unnerving. No eyebrows were present and his lips were drawn into a frown. An array of short crimson tresses hung from his head and on the left-hand side of his forehead was a rouge tattoo; Kiba couldn't help but think that its meaning was contradictory. He almost snorted, but the red-head's eerie gaze silenced him.

"What do you want?" He was straight to the point, his voice monotonous; his eyes perused focus on each and every one of them. Under the various odours that filled the room, Kiba managed to home in on the faint smell of blood. It was not long before he noticed the bandage wrapped around the redhead's left arm – the lycan had been wounded. He must have realised that it had been noticed, however, because he readjusted his position so that the wound was hidden.

Shikamaru was the one spoke up. "We came to offer you a proposition," he began. "An alliance." As he spoke, the young human girl appeared in the living room and sauntered carefully towards the kitchen. The way in which she moved – using her hands to trace the wall - indicated to Kiba as to why he'd considered her gaze to be cold; the human was blind.

Shikamaru continued. "There is a war coming – I'm sure you are aware as we both have a common enemy – the vampires. And over the years, we have been gathering together in order to face that enemy..." he progressed.

As he proceeded to negotiate, Kiba watched the stray lycan intently. He tried to make sense of him because after all, he was supposed to be hostile. Kiba had expected to see a transformed lycan at the very least – something that he would have to restrain - and yet, instead, he had been confronted with a human – a blind human. Based on that, the brunette had half considered if Naruto's theory was partially true, but the character who Shikamaru had described would have been more suited to walk alone, moving from place to place; moreover, he should have been harder to find. But here he was, situated in his non-transformed state – albeit cautious – listening, calmly. His eyes still sauntered across the small gathering of lycan; he locked eyes with the redhead briefly before his eyes trailed elsewhere. It was as they moved, however, that they became focused primarily on the next target and it was the small gasp and sudden movement that summoned the brunette's attention.

He glanced to the left of himself and saw that the vampire's face had tensed, her eyes averting nervously as her lips remained parted where the gasp had broke through. What he found, however, most unusual was that her hand had snagged a hold of his jacket and she had partially closed the distance between them. She must have sensed his disbelief because she lifted her head and glanced at him before shifting her gaze to the hand in question. Realising what she had done, she broke her grasp almost immediately and glanced away, keen to open the distance between them. Confused by her gesture, his brows furrowed in both disbelief and disgust. He wondered if she was becoming too familiar with them because they had yet to kill her, but the vampiress would always be just that – a vampire; the enemy.

"...therefore we were hoping that you might join us," Shikamaru's concluding statement withdrew Kiba from his distraction. He glanced from the other brunette, towards the redhead, who still had his eyes focused on the vampiress. There was a small silence before he spoke again.

"You talk about enemies – the vampires – and yet you walk with one,"

"She is an exception," Shikamaru interjected. "She has been helping us to keep track of them. Her input has been very useful to us."

"Vampires cannot be trusted," Gaara spoke again.

"And neither can y..." Naruto's comment was silenced with a carefully placed elbow into his stomach. He fought against doubling over, but the discomfort was written on his face.

"This vampire is connected to the Hyuuga family – perhaps one of the most dangerous covens in the country," Sakura decided to intervene. "The Hyuuga possess an heirloom known as the Byakugan and with it, we will be able to bring about an end to this war. Because of her, we are getting closer and closer to retrieving it. This is why we believe we can win."

"Your plans are nothing more than ideas; the vampire will betray you and you will lose," Gaara's comment was a low blow. Even Kiba, himself, was annoyed by it, but he kept calm in favour of Shikamaru's methods. "I will fight as I always have fought – alone."

"But when they come, they won't just come for you," Sakura spoke again; her gaze diverted towards the kitchen and then back again."They'll come for everyone associated with you as well. But in numbers, we are strongest."

In contrast to the expression, she had probably hoped for, Gaara's eyes had hardened. He looked slightly more frightening then he had initially. His lips tightened.

He was smart enough to know what the female lycan was trying to do. They had come all this way to negotiate an alliance with him. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that they had heard of his past – many lycans had. Perhaps, based on that, they had anticipated that he would be well informed of not only their enemies, but also, of the streets in general. Perhaps they had expected a train-wreck of a character that was more animal than human, with his hands stained with the blood of many. But while this was figuratively true – he had done many horrible and terrible things in his life – such was not the case as of current, which was why he had attempted to remain hidden for so many years. He supposed it was only a matter of time before they found him, nevertheless. But now that they knew of Matsuri, he wondered if they would use that piece of information against him. And even though, it had been, but a warning, he had not taken too kindly to it. Aware that she was in the kitchen, nevertheless, he made his closing statement concise.

"I am not interested," he spoke neutrally. There was a hint of malice in his tone. "Now leave!"

He saw them glance between one another curiously. Only the vampiress kept her gaze on the floor. She was afraid of him – he could tell that much. Rather than cause a scene, however, the group's apparent leader – the brown-haired lycan with tiny eyes – nodded in understanding.

"Very well," he spoke. "But we hope that you might still consider it." With this comment, he then manoeuvred back into the hallway. One by one, the group followed suit in the order that they had arrived in. He heard the front door of the apartment open and close, and waited until he heard the hum of an engine in the quiet streets below.

Matsuri appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, carrying a mug that was smouldering lightly; he picked up on the scent of rosemary. As per usual, her footsteps were tentative as she sought to find her way towards him. Brushing against the table, she set the mug on the surface. "You should drink this," she spoke. "It'll give you energy."

She sought the chair and settled herself upon it. "How is your wound?" she asked him. Her gaze was towards him but not at him. She held out a hand. "May I see it?"

"It's fine," he told her directly. Despite her disability, she had managed to do a fine job of treating his wound and wrapping a bandage around it. He had considered that he might lose the arm at first. The silver bullet had coursed deeply into his flesh and the pain had spread across like acid. It had been Matsuri who had removed it for him, just like she had always been there to tend to any wounds he might sustain. She did not condone violence, but her loyalty to him was unchallenged. If only she had been aware of the true circumstances that had surrounded their first meeting. Maybe then, she would not have been so generous.

Her eyebrows furrowed and Gaara considered that it was perhaps due to his dismissal of her concern. When she spoke, however, she verified something completely different.

"They're right, you know?" she began. "Those lycan." A pause. "There is strength in numbers." Gaara glanced towards her curiously. "It's just that...you spend so much time fighting alone...and the attacks are getting more frequent, aren't they?" He tilted his head away from her, gaze falling to nothing in particular. She must have heard the movement because she continued. "I know because we've been moving around a lot more than usual...and your injuries..." she paused; her lack of gaze fell to the floor also, and when Gaara glanced at her next, he saw that she had rung her hands. She smiled weakly. "I just...I just want you to be safe." Though she was smiling, her eyes were sad. "Maybe those lycan can offer us solace."

Gaara had never been much for working alongside others. Before Matsuri, he had spent most of his time alone, waiting for the next full moon or the next serge of anger that would contribute to a transformation. And then he'd go on the rampage – nothing more than a mindless animal – until he had met Matsuri. And while, controlling the transformations had been difficult – and were still difficult – he had managed to exercise some form of decorum – some form of restraint - for her sake. For Matsuri had been the first person to see beyond what he was. Perhaps it was her disability or perhaps something else, but over the past few years, they had developed a mutual understanding – a bond. And in that respect, he understood that the lycan who had proposed the alliance, were correct. When they came for him, they would come for Matsuri as well and Matsuri was defenceless – innocent. He could not let any harm come to her.

He rose from his seat; the ends of the brown cloak on his shoulders dropped a mere couple of inches from the floor. Matsuri's ears pricked. "You're leaving?" she sounded both surprised and solemn at the same time.

"Yes," he responded. "I will be back later on tonight." He strode across the room and towards the corridor. "Do not open the door to anyone." And with that warning, he proceeded to leave the apartment. After all, acquiring information would be key in bringing an end to the vampires once and for all.

She wiped her arm across her brow as the machine hissed and halted to a standstill. The gloves on her hands, she pulled them off and allowed them to rest on the makeshift table behind her as she went to inspect her work. Striding to the opposite side, she peered onto the conveyor belt at the row of perfectly manufactured silver bullets that she had been working on for the past few hours. She lifted one delicately, between a finger and thumb and brought the cartridge to her face, peering at the handiwork. Smirking in satisfaction, she then placed the bullet back into the row of shells and tugged on a lever beside her. The machine momentarily swung into action and the conveyor belt sent the bullets on their way to be packed. Feeling rather proud of herself, she inhaled and exhaled deeply. She couldn't recall the exact date when they had started, but this was to be the last batch as Tsunade-sama had instructed. Once they were boxed up, they would be shipped off to the Hyuuga domain as requested. The Hyuuga were one of the most loyal and the one of the more wealthy customers.

She ran a hand through her dark hair as she manoeuvred towards the end of the conveyor belt. When she arrived, the bullets that she had sent to be packed had transformed into quaint little boxes, sealed to precision. One by one, they'd slide off the edge of the conveyor into the waiting bay, ready to be moved and prepared for distribution. Several dozen similar boxes had already been pre-packaged into crates, ready to move to street level. All she had to do was package the final lot before the delivery men came to shift the load to their customers. She felt rather proud of herself. Tsunade-sama had left her to do most of the order herself, which should have meant that the older vampire was finally recognising her ability. Shizune knew better however. After all, times were becoming stressful; bullets were now in high demand. And whenever the strain of it all, got on top of her, the older vampiress had a tendency to sneak into her office and down a bottle of sake when she reckoned no one was looking. Shizune couldn't understand her superior's behaviour at times. She often had a tendency to partake in human activities – particularly drinking and gambling. The gambling had seen her reach close to bankruptcy twice; it seemed that she was a glutton for punishment, however. As for alcohol, Shizune regarded it as positively vile. Blood was all the sustenance she needed.

She completed her work in silence. She remained inside the work station for a further half hour, packing the remaining boxes away and sealing them inside the last remaining crate. She had half expected to hear her mistress having an argument with the delivery men. More often than not, they had a tendency to be late, but that evening, they were fortunate enough to have just one delivery. Tsunade's operation was superb, however. The upper levels were her household and the lower levels were for work. Only a handful of individuals had access to the lower levels, lest the secret leak to other covens, or potentially worse, their enemies. After all, Tsunade was one of the only silver bullet makers in the general area. She had learnt the trade from her grandfather and Shizune was content to know that Tsunad had trusted her with their family trade.

Deciding that she'd earned a well-deserved break, she manoeuvred towards the entrance and pushed open the silver doors. It was quiet as she motioned along the corridors towards the stairs – just the way she liked it. The upper levels were usually animate; the phone was usually ringing off the handle and vampires would arrive to make or collect orders where necessary. There were times, however, when there were tranquil evenings. The surge of customers had began at the beginning of the month when the lycans had made themselves known. Currently, things were wining down a bit. Shipments were lasting, but she suspected that the demand would arise again and both she and her mistress would have to work overtime to meet deadlines.

She found the stairs and began the ascent up towards street level. The door in question was security enabled so she made quick work of tapping in the code and removing the seal from her neck, pressing it against the sensor, before the door permitted her exit. As she crossed onto the vibrant carpets of Tsunade's household, however, and the door sealed itself behind her, something about the atmosphere implied that something wasn't right.

Again, it was quiet. Her vampire senses were just as keen as anybody else's. Usually, she could hear footsteps, the clink of a glass in the kitchen, the secretary tapping away at her computer or a fly buzzing through the cool air. This time, however, there was nothing and it was extremely unnerving. She moved along the corridors, however, at a standard speed even though she practiced caution. She grounded her teeth together as she moved, tracing her fingers along the cream-coloured walls. She couldn't even feel a tremor from an adjoining room or the reverberations of a conversation. She gulped.

Her first instinct was to locate the Tsunade, and her footsteps soon became hurried as she manoeuvred into an adjoining corridor. It was very likely that the vampiress was situated at the front of the house. The delivery men would be expected to check in here and Tsunade was usually found waiting for them so that she could debrief them. As she approached, however, still she heard nothing.

Eventually, nevertheless, she arrived at the front of the house and expected to see their secretary situated behind the counter. She was often instructed to remain there until all deliveries were shipped. What she saw, however, caused her mouth to fall open. A stream of blood was trickling along the counter and onto the floor from a deep rouge puddle that had manifested itself on the surface. The secretary herself was cast in the midst of this puddle, her blonde hair dishevelled and stained, her skin a powder white and her eyes aghast in both fear and lifelessness. A significant chunk of her flesh was missing through the centre of her back.

"Tsu...TSUNADE-SAMA!" She screamed violently. She took a trembling step back, but then immediately fell against something solid. Her eyes widened; her breath was unsteady and she turned around gradually to meet the form of a tall figure clothed completely in black.

Several dozen sudden movements and the entry hall was sudden over-crowded with similar looking characters. The dark-haired vampire shuddered, stepping away from the figure. "Tsunade-sama!" She called again. For now, she was completed surrounded.

"Your mistress is dead," spoke one of the individuals. He stepped forward out of the crowd; the weapon in his grasp caused her heart rate to skyrocket.

"W...what do you want?" Her voice was a shaky whisper.

"We already have what we came for," came the response. "You, on the other hand, are just unlucky."

Bloodshed tarnished the walls that night.

TBC