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Agatha met Mycroft in the National Portrait Gallery. It had always been a favourite haunt for her friend, who joked he enjoyed being surrounded by faces older than he was…made him feel almost young at heart. As usual, he could be found seated in view of the grand portrait of Cardinal Richelieu, a childhood hero Mycroft had once confided; if Agatha thought it a strange choice, well she wisely kept that to herself.
"So, what do we know?" Agatha asked, as she slipped into the seat beside him.
"And good evening to you as well Agatha." Mycroft replied, not once breaking his gaze on the majestic portrait.
"My apologies, I thought you would appreciate getting straight down to business…"
"Yes, but there is still room for manners." Mycroft tutted, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a touchscreen phone, which he handed her. "Your usual passcode."
"Oh, thank you." Agatha took Mycroft's chiding to heart, it was not the first time she had been accused of being a little too gung-ho.
"Mycroft why on earth would I be interested in tinder? Isn't that a human dating app?"
"Shush…honestly call yourself an undercover operative." Mycroft tutted.
Yet fortunately the only people nearby to hear Agatha, were wearing those awful headsets you could rent and walking around in a factual stupor. Mycroft was all for educating the masses, but rote learning was such a gauche way to achieve that.
"Your 'friend' has been using that app like a food delivery service." Mycroft explained with a sneer, and Agatha wasn't certain just which element offended him; that Dracula would use something so central to the worst of mortal culture, or that he actual thought such food was worth snacking on.
"You are such a snob."
"Ahhh no, I am a connoisseur."
"Dracula would claim the same."
"Well then he has chosen a ridiculous way of showing it." Mycroft huffed, tugging at his cufflinks. "We set up several fake profiles, men and women in his local area; there was a little competition back in the office, as to who could secure his attention first."
"You've been catfishing Dracula?" Agatha couldn't restrain the snort of laughter, at the thought of Mycroft and his office cronies, exchanging salacious instant messages with Count Dracula. "What's wrong, didn't he pick yours?"
"No, he did, along with several others, we all exchanged messages." Mycroft sniffed. "However, it seems your friend has the most bizarre taste. In the end Sally managed to secure a meet up with him tonight…it's a London nightclub, exclusive…your name needs to be on the door."
"Are you disappointed?" Agatha earning her a side glare from Mycroft, who was not in the mood; clearly the rejection of his fake persona, had been taken as a personal slight.
"So, what's the plan? Do we wait for him to arrive, or wait for him to leave…"
"The plan is for you, to go and buy yourself a new dress, then you have a hairdresser's appointment at six." Mycroft cut in, turning to face Agatha when she stared at him dumbfounded. "I did tell you, this is not a snatch and grab job, you are going at the request of the council to issue an invitation to meet."
"And they need me to look pretty?" Agatha hissed, her eyes narrowing at was clearly some sexist bullshit.
"No, but you do need to get access to that club and there is a strict dress code. You will need heels as well."
"No way, tell them to send somebody else!" Agatha snapped.
"You know very well Agatha, that there is no one else to send, who would do the job better. Besides you have an obligation, you know how the code works. At his age Dracula might very come out of this a clan leader, and you are of his bloodline, that means you owe him your allegiance."
"I owe that man nothing, save a good staking." Agatha grumbled, yet at Mycroft's quailing look she relented. "Fine where are the bloody hairdressers?" She might as well get the full works out of it, and it had been a while since she had a trim.
"It's all in the calendar, the details of the invitation from the council are in the email." Mycroft explained rising from his seat and picking up his umbrella. "And Agatha dear, try not to break the company credit card when you go dress shopping."
"I make no promises." Agatha retorted with a toothy smile, after all if she was going to have to go through with this, then the least she was coming out of it with, was a pair of Louboutin's.
"And stay safe." Mycroft added, as though she needed reminding of that as well. Yet this Agatha didn't mind quite so much, as she suspected, as much as 10% might be genuine personal concern.
Turning back to Cardinal Richelieu rather than watch Mycroft leave, Agatha sagged down into the bench. It was already two pm and she had a lot to get through. Wilting under Richelieu's condescending gaze, Agatha girded her loins. Shoes first, then dress, then hairdressers; then to the internet to remind herself how makeup was meant to work…at least youtube was good for something.
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Checking his reflection in the glass, Count Dracula did his best to ignore the skull like visage, and focused instead on the cut of his new, 'it was so dark navy it was almost black' suit. Teamed with a properly black shirt, tucked in a with a slimline black leather belt, Dracula turned to the side to admire his slightly more toned physique. All that dratted exercise was finally paying off, as was the consumption of a tennis pro, or two; he was now starting to advance up the club rankings.
He had already arranged a dinner date for this evening, and he did so want to look his best. Plus, he had the unexpected pleasure of meeting Lucy later, for a spot of dessert. Just the thought of the evenings anticipated delights had his mouth salivating.
"Looking very handsome sir, if I do say so myself." Frank Renfield simpered in the background, and if it wasn't for the need for a driver, who would operate with the highest discretion, then Dracula would have preferred to catch an Uber.
"So where are we going tonight sir, Raffles, Mason House…"
"The Box tonight Renfield."
"Ah excellent choice." Frank replied with a toothy grin, that made him look very much like a rodent smirking.
"Would you care for an appetiser before I bring the car around…I picked up something a little different…Cuban, excellent dancing skills…"
Of course, on occasion Renfield reminded Dracula, why he hadn't killed him yet.
"Yes, why not, there is no need to rush in and ruin the evening." Dracula replied with a smile, accepting the glass that Renfield poured him. After all he might get the opportunity to put this talent to good use.
-/-
Giving her fake name to the man on the door, Agatha was happy to be inside out of the wind. As a Vampire she didn't feel cold, but that didn't mean she relished the idea of a cold draft in her unmentionables, and with this much of her legs on display that was a definite threat.
She had fallen in love with the shoes at first sight, the red satin platform stilettos were impossible to walk in, and if her toes weren't already dead, Agatha would have been sure they would drop off from the lack of circulation. The dress had been something she had been talked into. The moment she had confided where she was wearing the outfit, the shop assistants had colluded, and forced her into this far too short skirted number. The only thing positive Agatha had to say about it, was the neckline was conservative. A slashed neckline that skimmed her collarbones, the back however was indecent, dropping down to the small of her back. Mother Superior would have had an apoplexy. Only the black and silver paillette covered mesh, that covered the fitted black underdress, met with Agatha's approval. It was classic, almost 1920's in style, moving and rustling when she walked.
Her hairdresser had asked about her dress and had teamed the look with a pinned curl updo. Not wanting to look overdone, Agatha had settled for paired back makeup, something to cover the dark circles and a simple smokey cat's-eye, that apparently even an idiot with no idea about makeup couldn't screw up.
Well idiot or not, Agatha couldn't resist taking one selfie, sending the picture through to Mycroft with a sarcastic 'Pretty enough for you?' message.
The returning thinking emoji, earned Mycroft a certain rude salute back. Yet Agatha would admit to herself she was nervous. She had an important job to do tonight, her own future depended on how well it went. If she gained Dracula's agreement, and he gained a place in the Elder's council, then she might be able to skip the remaining years of her conscription. Her transfer to the scholars, was almost in the bag with that sort of backing.
Still she resented the fact she had to dress up for it. Agatha had more than enough faith in her own powers of persuasion. Yet she knew only too well how vain most vampires were, how anally particular many became over their appearance, and how that judgement was quickly applied to others as well.
"Can I get you a drink Ms?" One of the sumptuously clad waiters had approached her booth…the booth Dracula had booked for them, with an excellent view of the dance floor and performance area.
"Just a water…Sorry I don't drink." Agatha replied with a polite smile, and the young man feigned one of his own, obviously realising that this was not going to be a high earning table. Which was fine for Agatha, he would leave them alone if he couldn't make money off of them, and alone would work better for her business.
Her water arrived promptly, and Agatha left it to gather condensation on the glass, her eyes were drawn to the growing number of human's arriving. Most were far more scandalously dressed than she was, most greeting friends loudly, others downing glass after glass of some alcoholic beverage. Moving to stand at the balustrade, Agatha leant over slightly so she could watch the pretty mortals dance and laugh and live their lives. The beat of the music was like a pulse, and Agatha found herself tapping away to the beat and the overpowering scent of it all.
Closing her eyes, she breathed in the scent of all that life. It was a heady experience, not one that Agatha in her role got to experience often. Perhaps if she hadn't been so lost in the heart beats of all of those around her, Agatha would have felt him approach.
As it was Count Dracula had a few long seconds to study the back of his 'date'. This was definitely the right booth, he had booked it especially for its more private location, and yet this did not appear to be the same woman from the photographs. Yet Dracula was far from disappointed, if anything this was an improvement. Oceans of naturally pale skin, not stained by the awful orange pigment, that so many of today's females thought was attractive. And legs…damn those legs…
Dracula actually tilted his head to the side, as he slid his gaze from thigh, to ankle, and back again. Yes, this one was definitely getting his mouth watering. Then she turned, as if feeling his eyes on her, and Dracula felt his world flip.
"Zoe Van Helsing!" Dracula exclaimed with a snort, irritated and impressed, that the head of the Harker Foundation, would put this much effort into tracking him down.
He looked just like she remembered, which surprised her, Agatha would have thought her memory would have warped somewhat. Same dark eyes, his hair was a little more casually styled, and the suit was clearly custom made. He was the devil made flesh, all her dreams and nightmares, wrapped up in a designer suit. And he clearly had no idea who she was…
Grinning toothily, Agatha couldn't help but laugh at Dracula's gobsmacked expression. "Guess again."
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