-Trust me it will get better continued...

More research throughout London's underground, a few demon bar explosions and a frightening Watcher council theft and I found some answers. William the Bloody, called so for the fascinating use of rail road spikes, made in the year 1880 making him around a hundred, sired by the insane Drusilla. The vampire had quiet a rap sheet and I was intrigued.

I became consumed with a need to find him; he inspired my ballroom murders at Le Vert Mason Abre in the French courty side. It is so funny to see their faces when they realize that that roasted mutton was the Duke and his mistress. Can't blame me, his wife was better off and there are very wealthy head shrinks there now.

I was never one to sneak around so I packed up a bag and sent myself, in a crate to a warehouse rumored to be his. Now understand, I thought this William fellow was an old possibly Dracula type but after months of studying this guy and spending twelve hours being bumped around in a crate my optimism was beginning to drag.

I could hear low mutterings and felt my crate being wheeled around. "Who would send a crate all the way from London? A crow bar is jammed into the top of the box. .

"Bloody Hell! Wha...? I hear this raspy voice halt as the lid cracks and I blink into the florescent fuzzy lighted silhouette.

"Who in the hell are you?" a British undead angrily questions. I did not see any one who could be my preconceived idea of the acclaimed William. I admit, I freaked; I had developed my young gun sense, vamped, growled, and leapt out of my container; feline flexed, I ferociously glared at anything near me.

"Well," said the Brit vamp, "What do we have here? It looks like a little pussycat.
I studied this particular vampire. Peroxide blond hair frosted above an angelic rough angular face with gray blue eyes. He stood casually but the senses told me he was the stronger creature in the room, adorned in black jeans, army boots and safety pins. Peircings like an artistic pincushion dappled on his ears and eyebrow. He was smiling but his eyes were black as he asked the ten or so vampires around him.

"Anybody want some pussy?" At a nod of his spiked head the two bigger metal Goth punks raced at me.
Still squatting I flipped both of them on their backs moaning in shocked pain. Surprise flitted across his face but it was still again quickly. "Feisty one aren't you. Was there something you wanted miss..." he trailed off. In one quick fluid motion I stood, shock his out stretched hand and said,

"I am Kit."

In a business like manner he asked, "So what brings you...Kit, to our humble apple in such a Cleopaterian way?"
He led me into a side office off the main warehouse, which was sparsely furnished. The blond man cleared off a chair covered in records and cigarette butts and offered me the seat. As I sat he flopped down on a ratty couch.

"I have brought your boss a business proposition," I said.

"Oh and what is that?" He drawled. "I would rather speak to your boss, bud." Yes, this man drew me to him but he was starting to annoy me. I wanted William.

He looked at me with those dark eyes expectantly. He gestured at himself in an accidental way as my own surprise gleamed through my eyes. Mistake made and ignored by me I continued.

"Do you remember Jhifter? He did some work for you over the Iler demon mix up in the twenties." I knew that it may be a touchy subject but he killed everyone in the end anyway but while it was happening he had been ruthlessly hunted.

"Cheeky bugger, he did help me but he was always trying to grab my ass, blamed it on bad eyesight." "He's dead," I answered, "I had the same supposed eye sight problem. Thirty-Thirty vision." Ruefully he muttered, "figures..."

Realization came into his eyes. "So what is it you want exactly?"

Smiling, "A peace offering from me to you. I don't do lanky's but you look in the need of some.." Anger flashed in his eyes.

Casually I replied, "I will give you all of Jhifters men, ship them here the same way I came if needs be if you let me in on whatever it is you are doing here."

He eyed me suspiciously. "What? I sadly to say, am not doing anything lately and why do you want in so badly?" I knew it would come to this.

I reached in my bag and drew out two books. One with his scarce but bold massacres and the other book stained and splattered and containing the real photos form my own.

"I see within you a true artist and I, of late, have been uninspired." I crooned, "I wish to learn from you and for you to teach me." I looked up with shinning eyes from the dark stained page of my latest conquest to see him frowning and shoving my books back at me.

"Fine," he said with tense tones in his voice, "but no double crossing or sneaky business, nothing like that, alright?"

At a nod from me he continued in a cold voice. "Yes, most of my men are witless but when needed I call on the best." My eyebrow raised at this and I coo, "Who?"

A maniacal glint goes through his eye as he pauses and turns from the open door; the light haloing him and a wicked smile alights his lips as he replies,

"Me."

eheheh, I love this so much! It is sad. Comments welcome, worshiped and demanded!!!!!