He stepped over the fainted woman, giving her one last look just to reassure himself that she was out for the night. She was. He could see that her chest was rising and falling very slowly; a cleaning rag still grasped tightly in her pudgy hand. His eyes went from the dirty rag to the rug near the front door. It figured that he would leave his home for a second, only to return to uncivilized beings residing here.

He nudged the woman's shoulder with his cane. She didn't move.

The snow was still fluttering in from the doorway. It was now collecting on the woman's large thighs and ample bosom. In another hour she would probably be totally covered.

For a second he wondered how she had known his name. He was positive he had never seen her before. Or maybe he had and he just hadn't paid attention.

He was quite good at not paying attention to things that really didn't interest him.

He smiled lightly, eyed the doorway darkly and then turned with a jerk and headed up the steps. Noticing as he went that someone would have to be taught some manners. This mud would never stain here again. Or he'd be staining someone with their own blood.

With a twirl of his cane he stepped toward his library. This library was a lot smaller than the other library he had met the league in the last time. His other library was what constituted most of the house. It was well planned and really the only place he loved to sit when he wasn't entertaining anyone. This library was warmer, softer. It reminded him of that idiot Basil. That is why he had bought this house. The whole thing spoke to him as if Basil was painting it for him and telling him to buy it because it flattered him.

No wonder he killed the man. Who wouldn't have killed him? All that longing behind those eyes would have damned any man to murder such a wimpish beast as he was.

He paused now at the door to the library, his eyes lingering on the long table sitting in the hallway. He could hear nothing going on inside the room. Just the ticking of the clock on the mantle and the snapping of the fireplace logs.

But he knew they were all there.

Slowly he took off his brown suit jacket, laying it on the table. He had on a light pink vest with a cream colored shirt underneath it. The collar of the shirt was closed tightly around his throat so that now he released it and unbuttoned two more buttons to reveal a bit more flesh. He was sure that Mina could use a good sight of immortal skin. It had been a year. She would surely be missing him by now.

As for his looks, well, he knew he looked beautiful. He really didn't have to fret about that and he certainly didn't have the time to waste.

Quickly, his hand throwing his cane over to the table with his jacket, he slammed his body through the doors and into the silent room.

Each face that turned to look upon him froze in horror.

Mina, standing by the window, clutched the red curtains there and faltered an inch or two.