Index of Terms

The Order: A vampire organisation made up of eight councils located in Phoenix, Chicago, Denver, Seattle, LA, Austin, Miami and New York. The Order acts as a government to vampires and maintains the secrecy of their race from humans.

Consentuals: Humans contracted by The Order for vampires to feed on.

Initiation: The process of officially swearing a human into The Order so they can gain full access to information and records.

Debriefing: The process of wiping a human memory.

AN: I've added an Index of Terms in case anyone needs a reference and wants to scroll up :) Thank you so much for all the positive reviews and comments! I was a little nervous with this not being a typical Darvey fic :P But I'll keep trying to answer any questions you throw my way.

As always, my words and ideas wouldn't be half what they are without Southsidesister (darvey_love) and Beth (NAhavenbb). Love you girls!

Chapter 2: A New Order

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Bristol, England, 1789

Jessica stands warily over the cement coffin, its thick slabs housing a prison for the former-man who lays inside. Darius, her master, leans over her shoulder, his breath hot and heavy as it falls against her neck.

"A gift for you."

She tenses. The maker of her kind, the King of vampires, is selective with whom he chooses to carry the pure bloodline, wanting to keep his legacy in high esteem. His reasons for the random act of delivering her a newly turned human are unclear to her, and she folds her arms pensively over her chest. "You consider a wayward child a gift?"

Darius chuckles. There are few he lets speak to him so boldly, but he's been grooming her to ask questions and challenge him. He needs someone who will do more than just his bidding—a mind that can manipulate his enemies and one day, perhaps even rule beside him. But if she is to be his Queen when they migrate to the New World, she first has to prove herself worthy, for his fondness has its limitations. "Very well, my love, consider it a test—in patience and restraint. I fear I have spoiled you with my attention. Show me I haven't been made a fool of."

She steps forward and turns, shamed by his dark, simmering gaze. "I apologize, my King. It wasn't my intention to sound ungrateful." She bows her head, relieved when he then takes her hand and brushes a kiss over her knuckles.

As a once propertied woman, her fate had been cast in stone until Darius freed her from the shackles of oppression, giving her a new fate with his blood. If his will is to see her train a protégé, then the matter is hardly a cause for contention. "What of his family?"

Darius releases her, his smirk laced with approval. "A wife and child, both dead." He wasn't the cause of the tragedy that befell their new brother, he simply seized an opportunity. What better way to birth a soldier than from the foundations of grief? And crested with the name Harvey, meaning battle worthy, it's his hope that the fates have dealt him a favorable hand. However, the unbridled rage he plans to instill in his newest warrior needs a way to be controlled. Jessica will be his mentor, ensuring that, when they immigrate to Colonial America, their goals are the same—to create a new world where vampires will take their rightful place in society, dominating humans, and securing their place at the top of the food chain.

"I have high hopes that you will make an excellent addition to my court, Jessica." He gleams at the coffin behind her. "Do not disappoint me."

...

Jessica stands with her arms folded tightly across her chest, shifting her gaze from the city lights to the redhead sleeping on Harvey's couch.

Love isn't a foreign concept to her. Unlike Harvey, she believes the emotion can be a strength and has even indulged a human confidant herself when Harvey was recklessly partying his way through New Orleans in the seventies. The match, however, was short-lived. After five years her confidant crumbled under the pressure, begging her to be debriefed, and she respected the man's wishes, saddened by the loss but leaving it behind her. She focused on a new challenge, instead, building a career for herself.

After two more decades of urging Harvey to do the same, he agreed to meet her in New York, and she's marveled at the change in him since he's had direction and focus. She suspects a large part of his dedication has to do with the woman resting before her. At first, after her own experience, she was hesitant to initiate Donna, worried that Harvey would grow attached. And he has. She can admit, she's never fully understood the relationship between Donna and Harvey or how it works, but she considers Donna a valuable member of The Order. Provided Harvey remains impartial and not blinded by his feelings. Their duties have to come first, and she turns to where he's perched against his desk, wrinkling his nose over the glass she thrust in his hand. "You're sure she wasn't infected?"

"If she was going to turn, I wouldn't have been able to heal her," he reminds Jessica, cranky from hunger and annoyed she keeps doubting him. If he thought Donna was in trouble, he wouldn't be idly leaning, forcing down the rank synthetic blood that tastes like shit. The concoction will sustain him, but the only benefit of the mixture is a long shelf-life compared to human blood. The smell alone is enough to make his stomach clench in a knot, and he lowers the unpleasant, bitter aroma away from his nostrils. "She's not infected… Just human. They sleep, remember?"

Jessica rolls her eyes, but her worry over the situation isn't unwarranted'. A feral sighting is bad enough without knowing the extent of the damage it caused or where it came from. For it to show up here, a few feet from the firm, doesn't strike her as a coincidence, and she raises an eyebrow at Harvey. "Made any recent enemies I should know about?"

"No more than usual," he smirks.

The quip does nothing to assure her. "I'll call an emergency meeting with the council, fill them in on what's happened." She motions toward his glass. "In the meantime, you need to go out and find some real blood. That creature shouldn't have been able to get the upper-hand on you like it did."

He huffs, offended by the insinuation he should have fought harder, but as his gaze falls to Donna, he swallows his retort. He was caught off guard, but in the heat of the moment she didn't think twice about putting herself in danger. She stepped in to help, which shouldn't have been necessary. And he isn't sure whether to be proud of her courage or scared that she flippantly ignored any regard for her own safety.

Jessica hovers at his side, reluctantly softening her features. Right now she needs him on his A-game, and when it comes to Donna, she's learned a firm hand is rarely the best approach. "She'll be safe here, Harvey."

A grimace tugs at his frown, but he trusts Jessica, and his stomach is already gnawing again, hardly sated from the synthetic mixture. She's right about him needing to feed. If there is trouble brewing on the horizon, he needs to recharge so he's ready for it.

Jessica watches him, Darius' gift to her, leave, and her skin crawls as the memory of their Maker sits heavily in her thoughts. There was a time she had thought herself in love with him—drunk on his charm, and the power he possessed. But Darius had turned vicious, consumed by a burning need to bring the world to its knees. But his demise had led to the creation of The Order, the council which now presides in place of the role she was promised. And she's relieved. Because had Darius achieved what he sought out to accomplish in America, New York would be a wasteland of destruction.

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Donna sips on her coffee, inhaling the hit of caffeine as Harvey closes the meeting room door behind her.

She woke up on his couch around sunrise and after checking in with Jessica; she went home, showered and changed. When she returned, Harvey was here waiting, looking refreshed and making her instantly jealous of his ability to run on little to no sleep. But she can rest after they learn what The Order had to say, and she fixes her attention on Jessica as the woman starts speaking.

"There's no sign of the feral outside of these three blocks." She hands them both photos from the surveillance that was pulled. "Which means, as far as we can tell, no one else was hurt or injured. This looks like a targeted attack."

Harvey winces, angry at the conclusion. "Even rogue vampires know how dangerous it is to let a feral loose. They're at risk just as much as we are."

"Which is why I don't think we're dealing with a vampire outside of The Order." Jessica's face hardens, letting the implication settle around the room. Rogue vampires do their best to avoid detection. It's far more likely that whoever staged the attack did so looking to create a stir within The Order's hierarchy—a political play.

"You think someone on the council could be responsible," Donna states, reading Jessica's firm expression. There are two members, Priya and Adrias, who have never shied away from vocalizing their dislike for human initiation, but all five representatives hold the same core beliefs—that humans and vampires need to coexist together. She can't see any reason why they would strike out randomly. "What about one of the other factions? Could they be involved?"

"It's possible," Jessica admits, having had the same thought. With The Order operating out of eight different locations across the country, they can't rule any of the council members out. They're all vampires who are centuries older than herself and Harvey, their histories scattered over continents, and it's not implausible that one or more of them may be pushing a different agenda.

Harvey considers the possibility, scrutinizing Jessica with a careful eye. Shortly after The Order was sworn in, she mysteriously vanished to Arizona. He always suspected her disappearance had something to do with the faction there, but she never told him the real reason she stayed so long, and he steals the opportunity to quiz her. "Does this mean you're finally going to tell me about Phoenix?"

He receives a swift kick to the shin under the table, and he glances at Donna's innocent smirk, his mind scrambling to fill in the blanks. "Wait…" He swings his head back to Jessica. "You told her, didn't you?"

"Harvey, focus," Jessica warns. Her time in Phoenix, while he was in New Orleans, is irrelevant to their current situation. "I need you here, running point, while I try to gather as much information as I can."

He huffs. His title doesn't warrant being in charge. What she's really saying is she needs him to baby-sit Louis.

"Keep out of trouble. That includes the kid." She ignores his sulky pout. Contrary to what Harvey believes, his age doesn't entitle him to special treatment, and they don't have time for her to swaddle his ego. The firm has suffered enough since Mike's secret was exposed, and she wants her house back in order, not unraveling while she's gone. "Until we find out more about the feral vampire, everybody in this building is in danger. It's our job to keep them safe. Even Louis."

Harvey slaps his mouth shut, reluctantly wearing the dressing down.

"What are you going to do?" Donna asks, a little nervous as the much-older vampire squares her shoulders.

"Whatever I have to." She doesn't see the point in elaborating. Getting information outside of The Order isn't about a source of income or stature. It's about survival, and Harvey's sharp nod indicates they're back on the same page.

"Be careful," he urges, more serious as he sits up straighter.

Her lips twitch with a faint smile. She can handle herself. But she always prefers being on the side of Harvey's loyalty instead of his ramped ego. "I'll check in when I have something."

The door swings shut with her exit, and Donna clasps her coffee, rattled from a lack of sleep and the task ahead of her. But old habits die hard. She's the person who keeps things running behind the scenes, and Jessica is counting on her and Harvey to pick up the slack. "I'll take care of Louis, you handle Mike and the Bellinger case."

Harvey's grateful for the offer, certain he would snap if he had to deal with Louis' drama, and he pushes himself up, letting his palm linger on the desk beside her. He isn't great with words, but he couldn't do any of this without her, and he exhales a sigh. Even though she's involved in every aspect of his life, she's still human. Without sleep, food and rest, she'll burn out, and in place of thanking her, he tilts his gaze down with a soft smile. "You sure?"

She nods, confident as she inhales more coffee. "Just make sure you don't let Mike out of your sight. And don't—"

"Spill all my deep dark secrets?" He lifts a hand in mock surrender. "I'll try not to."

She scoffs a small laugh, shaking her head. He's an idiot. But if there's one thing he can do, it's balance his duties at the firm with his work for The Order. So long as no other crisis hits, she has every faith they'll be fine.

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Jacksonville, Florida,1929

"What do we do?" Harvey stands in the shadows of Jessica's apartment, his face grim as he looks to her for guidance, voicing the fear they've both been running from for nearly half a century. He watches her draw in a deep breath, turning off the radio and sound waves of devastation sweeping the country.

The Polio outbreak flooding the news is the same tactic Darius used when he unleashed a smallpox virus in the late 1800s. If the coincidence isn't proof of Darius' foreboding return, the mutilated remains of humans and vampires charred with his insignia are a clear warning. Authorities may be able to hide the rising body count—ignoring evidence to propagate the success of prohibition—but mortal conduct is about to become the least of their problems.

"We fight." Jessica finally answers his question, steeling herself against any other alternative. When Darius migrated them to America a century ago, she naively believed he sought to free their kind from the oppression threatening them in Europe. The human population was growing too large, forcing vampire's further into the shadows, and the New World was supposed to be their chance to flourish.

But all Darius sought was control.

He angered at the progression of the colonizations, lashed out viciously when he realised his army couldn't overthrow an already thriving culture. The deadly strain of smallpox he unleashed in response almost succeeded in shifting the balance of power between humans and vampires, but the move divided his followers; half not wanting to taint their food source; others, like herself, questioning his decision to revolt against human advances in technology, wishing to assimilate instead of causing mayhem and bloodshed. Those no longer willing to be led fled from his court, leaving only a hand-full to do his bidding—the ultimate betrayal in Darius' eyes.

For years, she's been hearing whispers of his return with a plan more horrific and grotesque than his last failed attempt to enslave humanity, but she has no intention of letting those rumors come to fruition.

Harvey squares his shoulders, compelled by the urge to run, but a duty he committed himself to keeps him grounded. For two centuries, he condemned the world, justified his grief with hatred, and killed in cold blood. Until the night, in the wake of his worst massacre, he saw the face of his son in the only survivor—a screaming baby. The pain he thought was buried came tearing back, and rarely a night passes that he isn't haunted by his choices. But he made a promise to himself, to watch over the orphaned boy—a man who now has a family of his own—and he'll do whatever it takes to protect them from harm. "What's the plan?"

She steps forward, thrusting a little black book in his hands. "A new order."

He opens the pages, glancing at the detailed scribble of notes and phone numbers. Most of the names mean nothing but some stand out; vampires, older than he and Jessica combined, and it dawns on him—while he's been wallowing in self-hatred, she's been utilizing advances in technology, gathering intel, and obviously preparing for Darius' inevitable return.

He lifts his gaze, the task ahead of them seemingly impossible, but she's not asking if they can win—she's asking if he'll fight.

Which is exactly what Darius trained him to do.

...

Harvey's fingers speed across his keyboard, the clacking the only audible sound to human ears, but he can hear Donna's steady breathing and the soft squeak of leather as she turns on the couch.

He insisted Ray drive her home but was secretly glad when she declined, wanting to keep her in his sights until Jessica checks in. She crashed around nine, shortly after Mike headed down to the library, and he probably should have told Mike to call it a night as well, but as far as the kid's concerned, it's just a normal evening, and they have a case to work.

"Stop…" Donna whimpers in her sleep, rolling more actively, and he freezes, frowning as she tosses her blanket off.

She mumbles something unintelligible, and he slides back his chair, crossing over to her and bunching the knitted crochet in his hand. After what she saw last night, he isn't surprised she's having bad dreams, and he cautiously kneels down, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "Donna?"

She bolts awake with a gasp, startling him with her wide, terrified eyes.

"Get away from me!"

She lashes out, and he grips her arms, trying to coax her out of the nightmare. "It's okay, I've got you… You're safe."

Her breathing stutters, her heart pounding as she tries to focus on Harvey's gaze. All she can hear is a man she doesn't recognise hollering in pain, and she screws her eyes shut, gripping Harvey's arm as the sound fades into a distant ringing. She can still see flashes of the brutal execution, a vampire being ripped apart limb by limb, and her voice wavers unsteadily as she searches her memory for his name. "Who's… Darius?"

Harvey's blood turns cold at the whisper—a name he hasn't heard spoken since The Order was formed. She rarely enquires about his past, and he doesn't like to talk about it. After New Orleans, New York was supposed to be a fresh start, a time to forgive himself and heal. But her scrutinizing gaze reaches right down into the pits of his self-doubt, squeezing with a relentless grasp. "What did you see?"

A frown anchors his mouth, his eyes full of uncertainty, and she scrambles to hold on to the details of the nightmare as it blurs into a hazy fog. Before she can come up with an answer, the door pushes open, and Mike's enthusiasm cuts through the tension.

"Found it! Those assholes were trying to…" Mike halts his blundering entrance into the room, sensing the awkwardness as the glass swings closed behind him. "I can come back?"

Harvey wants to tell him to do just that, but Donna's already sitting up, switching into work-mode, and he reluctantly forces words around the knot in his throat. "What have you got?" he asks, standing, about to cross the floor when the room plunges into darkness.

His instincts kick in before Mike or Donna can blink, and he flashes to her first, clasping her wrist and keeping her close as he hauls Mike back from the door. Mike stumbles over his feet, his heart racing as two sets of boiling red eyes stare at him through the glass, drool flying as the creatures viciously snap their jaws.

"Stay behind me!" Harvey's face twists with anger as he assesses the threat, two things registering beneath his snarl; that he has to protect the people he cares about, and he'll unleash hell to do it.

Losing this fight isn't an option.

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TBC…