A/N: And here is the next chapter. These two have mostly been set-up, and haven't had much in the way of action. Next chapter that will change. This story's probably gonna be pretty long, and hopefully have a twist or two no one would think of, so please hang in there!
Also, thanks so much to those who have reviewed:

Malfoy-Lover555: Thanks! I hope you continue thinking so.

Reluctant Dragon: I haven't read the book you're talking about… but if its similar to this story, I'll have to check it out just to make sure I'm not unintentionally ripping it off!
And now, with no further ado…

Chapter Two: Familia (Family)

The house on the Palatine made her feel… wrong. There was something off about that house, something dark. Frankly, it made her skin crawl. She tried to convince herself that it was merely because the ground was old and hallowed- bought with the blood sacrifice of a brother a thousand years before- or perhaps that it was merely slaves from the East, conjuring vengeful magics to stop the lady of the house from conceiving. Harmless, really, and outside of her line of work.

Because if it was anything else, she could get in serious trouble.

Marcus was at her side as the steward showed them into the dining room, his movements nearly as wary as her own. The dining room was set up in the old style, three couches in a horseshoe shape, thin tables lining the inside of the "U". It was an unusual set up for this particular house; the dining room was built to hold over fifty people, and her cousin was not known for his austere dinner parties.

Of the young Julian cousins, Lucius had been everyone's least favorite. Rubellia had grown up alongside him, laughing while everyone mocked his tutors (a barber and a ballet dancer), his mother (a ruthless harpy), and his poems (bad, every one of them). He had been the butt of all of their jokes until he was fourteen, when the emperor- their uncle Claudius- had adopted him. The jokes had stopped as soon as the ink was dry on the papyrus scroll that made him Nero Claudius Caesar, a more formidable name for sure. Their uncle had died shortly after, and young Nero- only three years older than her- had become emperor of Rome.

The door across the room from them snapped open, and Rubellia jumped, fists clinching automatically, the Slayer in her ready for a fight. Nero strode in, calling out a greeting. She didn't relax when she saw that he was smiling- Nero was most dangerous when he was smiling.

He was shorter than her- a fact that had endlessly amused his stepbrother, until he'd had him killed- but he was handsome. He held out his hands as he crossed the room to embrace her, his wavy golden hair bouncing as his body hurried to catch up with his long strides. "Dear cousin," he said, kissing her cheek. His lips were soft, but there was nothing so pretty about his eyes, glittering like cold sapphires in the sunshine.

"Caesar, I was honored by your invitation," she replied, smiling demurely.

"It has been too long, Rubellia. Come, sit next to me tonight," he said, gesturing.

She reclined in the place he had indicated, watching as he greeted Marcus, who then took his position on the couch next to theirs. Nero settled himself beside her and called for the slave near the door to bring wine. The young man hurried to his master's side, head dipped low in obeisance, and poured three glasses half full of wine, then filled the rest with water. After his duty was done, he scurried back toward the door, barely making a sound.

"Are we your only guests tonight, Caesar?"

Nero nodded at her. "Yes. Well, no." He looked back to the slave and called out, "Arion, have someone fetch my wife for dinner." He smiled at Rubellia as the slave left the room and said, "With you here, I feel up to even her tiresome company." All three of them laughed, then Nero changed the subject with a wave of his hand. "Speaking of tiresome, Marcus, have you seen the production of Medea at Marcellus' Theatre? It is quite dull."

Marcus laughed and nodded, and Rubellia's muscles began relaxing. Mundane theatre was nothing life threatening. After a few long minutes of talking about Medea, which Rubellia found as dull as Nero found that particular production, Nero's wife entered the room.

Octavia was beautiful, with gentle sadness etched into her young, careworn face. The dark hair piled on top of her head contrasted sharply the pale marble of her face, and she moved gracefully but carefully, every motion set as the perfect wife and hostess. Until she looked up and saw Rubellia, and then that beautiful face blossomed into a smile. "Rubellia!"

Rubellia had seen Octavia smile only twice since her marriage to Nero, twice over the course of seven years. Rubellia smiled back. "It's been too long, Octavia."

"Indeed," she replied, taking the empty seat beside Marcus. She didn't seem to mind that Rubellia had taken her place next to her husband. Nero and Marcus greeted Octavia. The food arrived moments later, and they spent dinner catching up, speaking like aristocrats, and Rubellia still didn't trust it, even if she did enjoy it. It wasn't often that she was allowed to merely be a lady. Strange, how a secret identity could be so freeing among people who didn't know about it. But she wasn't invited to the Palatine just so she could spend dinner discussing theatre and wine. So why had she been invited?

After dinner had been cleared away, Nero looked to his wife and said sweetly, "Mel, would you please leave us? I have things to discuss with our cousin and Marcus."

Octavia rose obediently, and nodded a goodbye to Marcus, then turned to Rubellia. "You are dear to me, cousin. Please, visit more often."

Rubellia promised, and then Octavia left. No goodbye passed between husband and wife, but Nero watched her as she left the room, then said, "You should visit. She's alone too often, and sometimes I worry." He caught himself and laughed. "Then I remember that I don't like her all that much."

Marcus laughed, but Rubellia just said, "Caesar, you said you had something you wished to discuss with Marcus and myself?"

Nero smiled. "Short and to the point, cousin." He looked back to the slaves, "Leave us." He took her hand as they left. "And, dear, its Nero. Tonight, we are merely family, and I am just a cousin asking a favor."

She felt a chill creep up her arm, even though his hand was quite warm. "If it is in my power."

"Ah, Rubellia, it is in only your power." He paused, then continued, all traces of the loving cousin gone from his voice. "I need you to find me a vampire."

TBC

Note: Mel is Latin for honey.