Sorry for the delay. I started a new job the beginning of October, so haven't had as much time. However, I've got this one done. I actually forgot to post it here actually, though i posted it on AO3.

Hopefully, I can reach my target of finishing 12 chapters by the end of this year. :)

It was already the early hours when LaCroix visited. After he left, Amelia hadn't found it easy to sleep again. So much to take in… Over the last few days, she hadn't left her apartment because of a sense of fear and distrust. All alone in the house of a vampire. What else could she do but try to secure herself here and not come out? The night brought unease in knowing he was active, so she hadn't slept well. She'd not let anyone else come in, such as Leticia, who knew the truth but hadn't given any warning nor strong sign. At least Mercurio had in some way, but he wasn't here and it was unfortunate she'd only known him briefly.

When LaCroix had invited - no summoned her to see him, she was reluctant and left it until the last minute - she had to at least make some appearance. It hadn't gone well. Perhaps she was off-hand with him, but there was a good reason. He was no better. He was unsympathetic and high-handed. Although he claimed to "appreciate" her difficulties, and would even forgo punishing her absence - how generous of him! He did not appreciate expressions of frustration when it didn't suit him. Oh, he is so unreasonable, Amelia thought, sitting in bed under the duvet cover and propped up on the pillows.

But then he came to see her again. Her nerves were frayed from the brief but volatile conversation before, so she was unlikely to sleep easy, nor to be happy to see him so soon. Yet it seemed he wanted to smooth things over; to make amends. He still had that arrogant air and expected her to apologise to him, even though she was the victim in all this. And then there were all these personal questions he asked; expecting her to answer as if it were his right to know everything about her. She gave only a simple overview which he seemed satisfied with. There were no great secrets or mysteries, anyway. But she barely knew him and felt uneasy of opening herself up too much. At least this time he was a little nicer.

She was not quite sure what to make of Sebastian LaCroix. Wary of his motives, how should she digest this tenor change? The interaction this time felt almost personal. In moments he seemed more human, and she could almost like him. Even before knowing he was a vampire, the conversations had been amicable, despite his haughty airs. But that confused her in how to feel. This nicer manner may simply be a measured show of compassion, manipulatively planned. It was tempting to trust him because that was easy, but this may be naïve. There was so much he had told her, some of it vague; some of it enlightening. But he'd left her with more questions than answers.

That night at the New York Public Library - it seemed so long ago now, though less than five months had passed. It was the start of all this. Meeting LaCroix himself, but especially seeing that other vampire. It gave her shivers. A brief sight not fully understood at first, though it was deeply troubling; she'd begun to realise the truth. That poor victim viciously drained of blood. This had not left her mind. And now, knowing the full reality, could not be pushed away as the figment of a dream.

He said, albeit briefly, there were different sects of vampires. Something called… "Sabbat"? So, that frightening individual in human form she'd seen was one of these? Well, that sounded apt; suitably evil sounding. But melodramatic. It was hard to take seriously - like something out of an outlandish gothic horror film. Yet here she was sat in a grand townhouse belonging to a mysterious, rich and a rather aristocratic individual… who happened to be a vampire. It was like she'd stumbled onto a film set. But whatever sources of amusement were to be found, the presence of that creature gave her chills. It made her feel better to know that it was no more. Yet clearly there were more, and she couldn't relax yet.

LaCroix had implied that some were worse than others. Should she be grateful that he had intercepted her then, and not the other one? But the other one hadn't noticed me anyway, she thought. I was doing fine by myself, and didn't need "saving". His motive wasn't selfless. He was probably only helping because he wanted her blood as well and did not want anyone else getting the first bite. So much for being different. Was the other Sabbat vampire so much worse, and he so much better? Was she really "lucky" at all? Her surroundings here were certainly comfortable. LaCroix had the courtesy to make amends this time. She conceded that for the duration of her stay, nothing bad had happened; he had been generally civil affable… apart from frightening her half to death the other night, of course.

But he was still a vampire. Operating under the guise of falsehood, subterfuge and deceit. A masquerade. The blood he had to drink - whose was it? Such a manner of living must harm others. It was inevitable. She'd briefly glimpsed him drinking blood from someone, though it was dark and hard to see. What about them? He told her they were "completely fine", but she found that hard to believe. He had ulterior motives in telling her this.

When he was here in her apartment, she wasn't at ease with his presence. It was a reasonable assumption that he wanted to bite her; his interest in her must rest in this to some proportion. She made a nervous joke of it. But, truthfully, felt vulnerable being alone with him. His reassurance that he wouldn't do it had given her comfort… Indeed, as far as she could tell he hadn't bitten her. Why not? It was suspicious and unlikely. There was that dream. The one that had followed the paper-cut and his strange reaction to her bleeding - the first strong indication of something abnormal. Perhaps… but she didn't want to dwell on this.

LaCroix mentioned there were different bloodlines of vampires. What was the name of the one he mentioned - Ventrue? He said that's what he is. And he mentioned something about them having specific tastes, and unable to feed on just anyone. Was she included in this exclusivity? She wondered what the specification was. I hope it's not anything weird. Some may feel that the prospect of a vampire wanting their blood specifically made them "special", and feel happy to let him. Maybe he thinks I'll be flattered - he's certainly arrogant enough to think that. Some people might be: with his handsome face; charming ways and extreme wealth. Well, if he thinks I'll be so impressionable he can think again! But some people would, and surely some of those suited him, no matter how fussy his tastes were. Yet he seemed to linger on her. That blood restriction sounded more like a flaw than merit. I hope this interest in me is not some sort of obsessive fixation. She'd read about vampires continuously visiting particular victims; not leaving them alone until they were dead.

But, in light of this restriction to certain people, it did make sense that he wanted the people he drank blood from to be fine after it. Killing prey when you require a specific but limited source would be stupid. Better then to take only so much blood and keep them alive. So, what he said was believable for this reason. Maybe, a person can be fed on by a vampire without necessarily cause harm, she thought. No. Wait, she caught herself, knowing that she ought to remain wary and not take him at his word. He may appear sophisticated and seem hospitable if not in a bad mood. It was easy to get taken in by him. But he was still a bloodsucking, undead thing. She shouldn't forget that. If she lingered on this creepy thought, it was hard to speak to him. Was he even alive? Was he even human anymore? Whatever facade of niceties, he was still drinking blood and wanted hers too. These assurances were not out of consideration for her, but because it suited him. Choosing not to harm or kill those he fed on was Machiavellian self-preservation, not a compassionate concern.

Overall, Amelia felt conflicted and wasn't sure how to react to all this. And there were many other concerns she had besides these mentioned. She knew not to let herself become too enchanted with him, and cynically reminding herself that if he seemed nice towards her, whatever he said or did, it was probably because it suited his ends. The likelihood of him caring about her, at this point, seemed slim to none.

Eventually, she did go to sleep. But not easily and slept in until 10:30 am. Leticia was absent. In the previous days, she had come up here in the mornings, although Amelia hadn't let her in. It was nice to have the quiet solitude of the day. It was not that she begrudged Leticia for not telling her, as she could understand the reasoning behind it. Although vaguely, LaCroix had explained her new circumstances and what receiving blood from him meant. But she could not yet acknowledge the truth of it and thought of it only in a distant, euphemistic way. Drinking his blood? A bridge too far. The worst thing was that it wasn't unpleasant. But she didn't like to think about that.

He said she was now a sort of servant of his. He chose words to soften any bitterness. But she could think of worse descriptors. And, of course, wasn't very happy with what he'd done. There did seem to be some advantages to it. However… the downsides weighed heavily. She'd be reliant on him, and therefore vulnerable. She could sense a force that pulled her to him. A Faustian bargain indeed, and not one of her choosing. So, she had some sympathy for Leticia's predicament. However, it made Amelia realise that her loyalties lay elsewhere and could not really be relied upon nor trusted.

That morning she started working again on her collection survey and cataloguing. She crept down into the main rooms of the house warily, but found herself alone and undisturbed, and settled into the surroundings. The job itself was fine. But working for a vampire? She tried not to think about that. The work did take her mind off thinking about him, though not with complete success. She was annoyed with herself for not thinking this job offer was too good to be true, although it had made sense and didn't land out of anywhere. In hindsight, she should not have accepted it, but now there was not much to be done about it. It has stung when he told her it wasn't that important - he just wanted a reason to keep her near.

The days that followed were much the same. There was less time to finish, now that LaCroix had decreed to move the deadline forward, so she was having to work very hard. It was lucky that she'd made most of the progress already. Sometimes, she was in the office until late and would watch the hours. In the daytime, the question of what he was doing passed in her thoughts. Sleeping, obviously, but was it like hers? Or was he just lying… lifeless? Shuddering, she pushed this thought away. As the night drew in, she wondered what time he awoke, and wanted to retreat to her apartment well before so she didn't see him at all.

A week passed.

She completed the report, spending a lot of time reviewing, editing, checking formatting and citations, self-critiquing until she'd had enough, and submitted it two days ago. And could relax, but not quite forget. This wasn't simply a coursework assignment for university. This was an actual, real-life project, and there was more at stake. Even though he said the work didn't particularly matter, LaCroix was paying for her expertise (quite generously in fact), so she better do it well.

She stopped blocking the door as he'd asked. It was still secure anyway, so she could live with that, although her unease had not entirely dissipated. He had promised that he hadn't been in her room before. The only proof was his word. For all she knew, he might visit to drink her blood every other night! However, she had experienced no symptoms of blood loss. This was no absolute assurance, but she was giving him the benefit of the doubt. Honestly, the idea of him sneaking in here seemed very uncharacteristic. It wasn't his style.

Over the last two days, she had done little. Some tinkering with the databases; organising the books and records room. As for her job application processes, she had not yet declined them, thinking it best to wait until feedback from the work here, so she still had some options open. Who knows, the better one's might benefit her as leverage if LaCroix knew she was in consideration elsewhere - at good companies no less. He'd see her as an asset and uneasily disposed. But that was just a thought. There was nothing completed. With the eased scheduled - holidays - she'd relaxed a little. With less to do came fewer distractions from dwelling on the situation.

Thursday evening, Amelia received an email from her Aunt. This was a usual occurrence each week, to ask how she was doing, and to check she was okay. Present circumstances considered it was hard to answer this without difficulty.

(Subject) How are you?

(From) Diana Southwick

(To) Amelia Siddall

Hi Amelia,

I hope you are doing well and are ok. From what you have said, I'm sure you will be sorry to leave, as it sounds like a very nice set-up.

You seem to be enjoying the work you are doing at the moment - the material seems very interesting! I would have loved to work on a private collection like that myself. I know your internship and course was more focused on business information and records management, but you did always like historical things. I bet you have enjoyed it.

Speaking of which, you must be coming to the end of your work contract there? What are your plans following it? Have you done any applications yet - I have seen some openings that you may be interested in?

Best wishes,

Diana.

...

(Subject) RE: How are you?

(From) Amelia Siddall

(To) Diana Southwick

Hi,

Yes. It is comfortable; I liked it a lot. When I arrived, I was kind of in awe, but I suppose I'm more used to it now, but I'm still a bit amazed at times. I think that I attached some pictures to you of the apartment the first week I was here? So, you can see how nice it is. Of course, the rest of the house is on another level above that, but I can't show you. I suppose I would miss it, but it's not home.

I have made some job applications. But I should have told you this sooner, there may be a possibility of extending the contract here. And, as the LaCroix Foundation is expanding development at their Los Angeles office, I've been told that there may be some opportunities which may be suitable for me. But I don't know yet. It is a long way… What do you think?

Love,

Amelia

...

(Subject) RE: How are you?

(From) Diana Southwick

(To) Amelia Siddall

Oh, that sounds quite promising. Well, if you do have a contract extension there or further opportunities, it wouldn't hurt to accept. And now is a good time for you to take opportunities like this, while you don't have any ties holding you down. But it depends on what you'd like to do, or if you want to come home, which is understandable. You will have to see what the details are and see if they suit you.

I'm sure you'll be fine. It is a good sign that you are getting considered. You must have made a good impression. And, if it doesn't turn out, I'm sure you will find something else. Let me know. No doubt you'll find out soon, as otherwise, you'll be due to come home in a couple of weeks.

Love,
Diana xxx

She still had yet to explicitly tell her Aunt that this change in circumstances was already decided. It was too difficult while knowing there were significant pieces of fact to be left out. Namely, that LaCroix was a vampire and therefore the situation less than glowing. He probably wouldn't take that well though.

Friday night she received permission to finally go out, so Saturday was spent at the rare books cataloguing and preservation training workshop again. She was escorted via the chauffeur at exactly the start and end times. There was no time to wander. Nor was there any sign of that strange man again, but this was LaCroix's intention since the thought of her fraternising with this individual made him uneasy for his existence, Amelia surmised. She was still not quite certain whether or not the man was a vampire hunter. Or, an investigator, a witch hunter, an inquisitor, a religious fanatic, or an exorcist. Perhaps even some combination of all these. LaCroix did not say exactly. But she assumed this was the case because he was so agitated on the discovery of her interaction with this person. He was angry, but it came from a place of fear. That had made him frightening. He had calmed down; there were moments of considerate actions; evidence he may not be acting out of deliberate maleficence. He probably had his demons in all this. A flicker of sympathy, but she was still wary. She simply did not know him well yet. It would be foolish to trust someone like this wholeheartedly too soon.

The night had drawn in, and she'd been back in her apartment awhile. She received an email about an hour ago. From him of course.

(Subject) Meeting arrangement

(From) S. LaCroix

(To) A. Siddall

Miss Siddall,

Considering the relocation to Los Angeles at the end of this month, I'd like to discuss some details with you. Come to my office at 9:30 pm promptly. It should not take long.

Please reply to confirm your attendance.

S.L.

P.S. I have read your report.

The postscript made her nervous, and she almost dropped her coffee on the laptop. What did he want? Was it good enough? Or was it terrible? What if he just doesn't like it? If so, what if he'd make her do it again? But there was no more time. The situation was already precarious; the last thing she needed was to make things more difficult. There were things she knew that she wasn't supposed to, so couldn't afford to give him reasons not to keep her. She'd had less time than what she'd originally forecast, not to mention that her mind had been preoccupied with other more serious concerns than writing an audit report and cataloguing metadata for some old books and manuscripts! But she'd have to face it eventually. It was not to be the main subject of the conversation anyway. Why did he only mention it in passing? Was this task so irrelevant; just work created as a pretence? He was rich, so what he was paying her was probably nothing to him, but it had to matter to some degree at least. He wouldn't just throw money at her for nothing.

Amelia was half-way down the staircase as she made her way down to LaCroix's office before 9:30 pm. The door of his office opened, and she froze on the stairs. But then out came Leticia, who was small-framed and could slip out of the large doorway almost unnoticed, her dark hair pulled up in a loose bun and she wore the usual neat, smart but inconspicuous black dress. She was about to disappear down the next flight of stairs by the time Amelia reached the end of hers, but they greeted each other briefly, although it was evident that both could not stop for a chat long. No doubt too busy with tasks from LaCroix.

Amelia had assumed that Leticia was a maid or domestic assistant, as she appeared no older than Amelia - early to mid-twenties at most. However, while she did most housekeeping activities, she was also responsible for the household management as a whole, including supervising other domestic staff occasionally, so she may be older than what appeared. But there was no time to talk now. Leticia was gone, leaving Amelia standing alone in the corridor in front of the door of LaCroix's office. She lingered there a moment; a hesitation at turning the doorknob and a sigh. What was to await her? Prideful disdain, or meanness? Nerves were getting to her in case of what he may say, but she finally opened the door and went in.

"Ah Miss Siddall, there you are," his melodious voice met her first; the tone pleasant to hear as she knew it to be at times. He seemed to be in the middle of something, as he didn't immediately acknowledge her and there was paperwork on the desk as well as a laptop, which was a slightly odd sight given what she knew. Had she not known he was a vampire of who knows what age, he would appear like any other young businessman, as physically that's what he seemed. She didn't know how old he was anyway, only having a vague idea, so it was surprising to see that he even knew how to use modern technology. "Have a seat," he said with his full attention on her now.

As well as the other objects on his desk, there was also a glass with something in it. Before sitting down, she stared at it and blurted out "is that blood?" It looked fresh. Leticia had been carrying a silver serving tray, so must have just brought the glass to him.

" Yes, it is ," he replied, looking at her with a laconic expression. Seeing her unsuccessfully concealed discomfort, he explained, "no need to worry. There's no harm done." He picked up the glass as if to inspect the blood within it, as one would do wine. "From one of the corporate law consultants, and they are quite fine I assure you."

She just nodded, watching him. At least it wasn't hers - was that selfish to think? Thankfully, he didn't drink from it in front of her, which she thought he might do. What could she have in common with a business consultant? It was hard to work out what exactly the specification of this preference of his was.

"Now, to the reason I've invited you here," he said. "I presumed that the travel arrangements for next week would be of interest to you."

Amelia nodded. She wasn't exactly enthusiastic about going to Los Angeles. It had never really ranked highly on her lists of places to visit, though she supposed it may be interesting to visit once, at least. However, this move seemed to have some permanency. She didn't like the sun or hot weather. So, she dreaded living somewhere like that. Why did he have to drag her off to such a place? But having a job there might sweeten this offer. There was a certain prestige to it, although she wasn't sure in what capacity he would employ her yet.

"As you know, we shall be going on the 25th. Have you made preparations for this?"

"I've still got some packing to do, I guess."

"I see, but that is not quite the matter I was referring to," he said. "Have you informed your Aunt as I instructed?"

"Well. Sort of. Yes," she broke her gaze from his.

"That's not an answer." He sighed, "it's a simple question," his words deliberate to give the impression of patience; looking directly at her; into her. "Do you mean to tell me that you haven't?"

"Well, no I have," she insisted; fiddling with her pen. "We had an email exchange as usual. She asked about what job applications I'm making at the moment, so I mentioned that I may have prospects of a contract extension here so that I'm considering it. So… in a roundabout way, yes," she hoped he accepted that. She was holding out for the chance that at the last minute he'd let her go. Or, that this was all a bad dream and she'd wake up from it soon.

"No then." Another heavy sigh. "I understand your reluctance, but the longer you wait, the more difficult it will be. You are leaving this open to the possibility that the situation is not set. But it is. What you need to say is simple - you were offered a permanent position at the Los Angeles offices, which are being expanded and redeveloped, and you have chosen to accept. That is not an unbelievable story and is accurate after all. Is this still too difficult?" he scrutinised her, "or, do you want me to speak to your Aunt for you?"

"No. No. Don't do that," she responded immediately, feeling a sense of panic at the thought of this. Wouldn't that seem odd anyway if he did?

"Well, see that you do it then. I've already been very patient with you. There is only one week. As for other preparations, ask Leticia if you would like some assistance, I will instruct her to help."

"Ok." Given that over the last year and a half, she had lived at three different addresses, the majority of her stuff had been in luggage or boxes, and she'd taken it all around with her. Firstly, to the house she'd shared with fellow students in London. Secondly, some came with her to the student halls in New York for her semester abroad, after which she'd gone back to the house in London briefly, then to stay with her Aunt in Harrogate for a few months. Finally, she'd come here of course. And while most of her possessions that mattered were here, it was not everything she owned; some of it was still at home, so she may have to ask her Aunt to send it over if she was to be here for the foreseeable.

"Good. We will be flying there, as that is the most efficient method. We should arrive well in advance of daybreak - the reason for this being obvious. So, we shall start in the early evening, as soon as it is nightfall. As you can appreciate, time is important - crucial in fact - so I expect everything to run precisely. And that includes you, so see that you are organised." he emphasised in his usual brusque manner. "You will need to be up early to assist with preparations in the daytime. I've chartered a private jet for the journey. Do you have any requests to be made in advance?"

"Um, not really. It sounds good anyway." Amelia said in awe. Just travelling on a private jet was significant enough; better than any travel she had been accustomed to, so she didn't have any special requests. It was already special enough anyway. But she was surprised he had even asked about her preferences. Nor did she expect him to inform her of these details in person, but rather send her itinerary via email, or simply ask someone else to tell her. Unless he just liked seeing her himself for some reason.

"There's no need to be so self-effacing," he almost laughed; amused by her meekness to accept more than the minimum conditions.

"I just don't know what to expect," she shrugged. Why did he even care anyway? Aren't I just some servant of his, so should just be grateful for anything he gives?

"Oh, I see," he said as if it were a revelation that she may not be used to such a lavish lifestyle. "I shall have some details of the options sent to you then. There must be something you'd prefer. Think about it and let Ms Bianchi or Miss Stewart know soon."

He meant Leticia Bianchi or Marian Stewart, the latter of whom she hadn't seen much of, except in the first few weeks, and that was only in the evenings. I wonder… "I'll probably let Leticia know then. I don't see Marian that much. She's usually at the office headquarters, I guess. Never seen her in the daytime though - why's that?" she asked pointedly, but suspected the answer was obvious.

"You haven't noticed anything… unusual about her as well then?" he asked as if interested in how well she could recognise the vampiric nature.

"Well… yes, I suppose but not especially. I guess I've never seen her enough to take as much notice." She had been more focused on him, and Marian had seemed generally normal. "She is like you then?"

"Yes. Perhaps it is less noticeable to you because she was not Embraced very long ago, and so more easily blends in," he suggested.

"Oh," it dawned on her all the obvious little things that made sense now. It made her wonder. "Did you -"

"No," his reply came swiftly with finality. "She's just here for a short time to learn, as part of her training," he stated as if this fact was so commonplace it needed no explanation.

Training? What for? Amelia wondered, "like an internship?"

"I suppose you could describe it that way, yes." He didn't elaborate further.

The meeting was almost at an end. He had yet to mention her report, perhaps he wouldn't at all and she might feel relieved for that. She was about to go.

"Before you go," LaCroix began and Amelia wincing inwardly, feeling herself get nervous about what he would say next. "The report you completed."

"Yes?" She turned back from the door warily; dreading what he would say and expecting him to demolish it in a critique.

"Well done."

What? "Really?" It was like her nerves and worries had evaporated the instant of knowing her success, and was replaced by a feeling of relief and elation. Especially coming from him. LaCroix was so exacting and hard to please. Praise from him was high praise indeed since he didn't give it lightly, and would certainly say when there was something wrong or if he didn't like.

"Yes. It seemed very comprehensive and thorough."

"Oh, thank you," she beamed. Loving praise for doing well, especially after so much worry.

"Did you feel satisfied with your performance?"

"Yes… Well, I've done some work on special collections before - when I've volunteered and had a couple of modules on it but I'm not an expert, so I think I did alright. The workshop I went to helped. Well, maybe I could have been a bit more detailed on some points. Maybe the conclusions could have been more assured," she gushed, "but there's always areas to improve and it's good that you say it was good."

LaCroix looked at her, and for a moment there was a hint of a smile in his acknowledgement of her, perhaps he found her reaction sweet in the way that one might regard a child. He responded, "hmm, yes, you've done well, given the circumstances and time constraints. I knew that my judgement of your ability would be proved correct."

She realised she was probably rambling on and reeled herself back in, but could feel h erself blushing. "Thank you."

"You were meant to be paid your final salary at the end of this month. That is still the case and you'll receive the agreed amount. However," he took out an envelope from the desk drawer, "here is an advance, since you completed the assignment sooner than originally agreed. Think of it as a bonus."

He'd given her an additional $1,000.00 in cash. She was a bit giddy from that, but after a while thinking about it, she reminded herself that she shouldn't lose her head about this. He was doing it because the money meant power and influence over her and others, so she should view it with caution as it may be as much a tool of manipulation rather than genuine meritocratic reward, how ever seductive it was to see it as the latter rather than the former. But she had earned it. She had produced good work, to a tighter deadline than originally projected for. Played detective the past few months since meeting him and working here. And of course, the horror and ordeal of finding out Sebastian LaCroix was a vampire! So, didn't she deserve it? Yes. But she'd still be wary of his reasoning for doing it.

As she came out of the office and was about to cross the threshold of the stairs, a very large, tall dark shape that was moving caught in her peripheral vision, and she turned to it for a moment. A giant! It must have been at least nine-feet tall. Massive and foreboding, greyish skin, a deathly look, and red-eyed. It was coming towards her. She gasped and backed up onto a sideboard. It shook with the force, almost knocking off a vase which she lunged to save since it was probably worth a lot.

Her eyes turned back slowly, cautiously to the giant-like creature, who continued in motion but had stopped a metre from her and stood there silently, like a grim sentinel. It said not a word, and did nothing but stare blankly but intently, though not at her. The door from which she had come opened again suddenly and LaCroix appeared in response to the commotion. He looked at Amelia, frozen in place against the sideboard, and his mood seemed to calm as the scene made it clear what had happened. There seemed to be some sort of acknowledgement as LaCroix looked at the creature, and it backed off.

Relieved, Amelia seemed to breathe again for the first time. She moved closer to him as if she felt more secure there.

"Don't worry, Miss Siddall. He won't harm you, he answers to me," he stated stiffly.

She looked at him thinking, are you sure? He looks way scarier than you.

There seemed to be some sort of non-verbal communication because LaCroix simply looked at the giant creature and it continued down the corridor - it's original destination before being side-tracked by Amelia's reaction. She stared as it went.

"What was that?"

"He's Kindred as well. But of another clan. I suppose you could say he is a bodyguard of sorts. I apologise for the fright he gave you."

Amelia just nodded and sighed. There were going to be more of these frightening encounters from now on, so she might as well get used to it. "It's fine… I can see why he makes a good bodyguard. He scared me half to death."

"Indeed. He tends to have that effect. As you can imagine, he is and has been very useful to me. But he is entirely loyal to me, so you will be safe." LaCroix told her, before saying, "you are unlikely to see him often, and the less you see of him the better."

Well, better not got on LaCroix's bad side then. "Um, good. No offence but I'd rather not see him too often."

LaCroix nodded. "I shall have to leave now. More detailed information regarding preparations to be made, your responsibilities and plans will be sent soon. And, tell your Aunt as soon as possible - as I have told you. I insist that you do it tonight, or if not tomorrow."

"Yes, ok," she nodded meekly.

"Good. I shall see you next evening."