A/N: Chapter 5 is kind of short, but we finally learn who's chasing Abel. That's something, right? Right? -taps mic- Hello?

Vespertine

Chapter 5:

Samlare

Abel POV:

"Thank you for seeing us, Emmeline." Gwen's usually loud voice held the same subdued, defeated tone I'd heard the entire trip to this godforsaken city. It was worse than Great Falls; dirtier, louder, and much more crowded. If Great Falls was polluted, Denver was diseased. That, coupled with the girl's frustrating mood, put me in a dangerous state, on edge and annoyed and I wasn't willing to play lower class to this pompous bitch staring at us in what I thought was disbelief.

I started having misgivings when we walked into the large office building and straight into the waiting arms of three vampires. Gwendolyn seemed to know the two women and the man, but while they weren't hostile, they also didn't seem to be particularly fond of her. We were herded into an elevator, led through several hallways and left in this richly appointed office for a period of time alone. It was spacious, lined with books and scattered with mismatched but expensive chairs, but obviously carefully constructed to keep us contained; no windows and I got the feeling it was near the middle of the floor plan, padded on several sides with other rooms.

I paced up around the room, feeling like a caged animal while Gwen sat silently in one of the large leather chairs, with hands folded in her lap and eyes unfocused. Eventually, our host decided to show, but by that time I was already done with this whole situation. Samlare or no, I was done with this mess, done following Gwen like a helpless puppy, done with this fleeing at her heels. I would find a way to do this on my own.

Emmeline, a pretty blond a little taller than Gwen, seemed to shake herself before nodding to the girl and sitting down in one of the huge chairs in front of us. "Forgive me my rudeness. I wasn't expecting you without Garet, little one." Gwen didn't even flinch at the stocky Welshman's name, just taking a seat. I remained standing a little behind and to the right of the chair Gwen was in, glaring at Emmeline when she glanced at me curiously, arms crossed defensively across my chest. She didn't even bother to glare back, turning back to Gwen.

"Who's your watchdog, dear?" A hand waved in my direction. "I don't believe Garet has told us of any new additions aside from the lovely little prophet, and I believe that was shortly after you two relocated."

"Abel is just my traveling companion," came her quiet response. "He and I will part ways soon, I think."

So she'd been paying attention to me, had she?

The blonde looked at me closer, perfect ringlets spilling over the shoulder of her tailored silk blouse as she leaned forward. "Well, isn't he a handsome one? I wonder if Cassandra would like a peek at him."

There was a faint little sound that probably meant Gwen was chewing on her lip.

"Emmeline, I need to talk with Mora. If Mora isn't here, then get me Cort. This is important." She looked at me, and I looked back, still frustrated, still upset, but for a different reason this time. Her eyes were deep red, telling of the dead drunk in Great Falls. Behind the despondency, there was a promise. She would help me, just like she said she would during the trip here, after I told her everything I knew about the Samlare.

Emmeline gazed at Gwen steadily, seeming to gather more information than what was contained in the girl's quiet words. After a moment of still silence, she nodded sharply and was gone from the room without a word, blonde ringlets swaying across her back with each step.

I watched her leave, not sad at all to see her go. The entire time she spoke to Gwen her voice implied we were barely worth her time. Isolated as I had been for a long time, it wasn't often I got to interact with people aside from the occasional human wandering off the trails and the rare interloper. That made me anxious and abrupt in the face of people who frustrated me, and Emmeline just rubbed me the wrong way to begin with. I didn't notice I had started to pace until the door opened and I stopped, barely avoiding running into the newcomer.

A woman shorter than Gwen was standing in front of me, with dark short hair mussed and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She held a wooden baseball bat, tip down, loosely in her hand. I jumped back, closer to Gwen, but she just looked at me steadily, faintly amused, and set the bat down against one of the book cases to the left of the door way.

"It's nice to see you again, Gwendolyn."

Gwen stood and faced her, smiling a real smile for the first time since we left Great Falls. "It's good to see you, too, Mora. I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but our situation is a little…" she glanced at me. "Desperate."

The newly identified Mora nodded understandingly, sitting in the same chair Emmeline sat in not 10 minutes before. I took up my post as Gwen sat back down, rubbing a hand over her face tiredly.

"Now," Mora started, leaning forward and linking her fingers together, "what can I help you with? And may I ask where Garet is? You've never been here without him."

Gwen sighed. "Garet is… gone. He took Abigail and ran, for lack of a better word. It's all part of my – our – problem. Our home in Great Falls is gone, invaded and probably destroyed. We have a group of thugs after us. Do you know about Walker? Ok, good. Well, my friend Abel here has his own form of Walker, only on a much bigger scale. They're called the…" Here she looked to me and I said my first words of the night.

"They are called the Samlare. They are-"

"Collectors," Mora finished for me in a grave tone. She sighed. "Yes, I know of them." She smiled at my sound of disbelief. "They once hunted my mate. We made a deal with them, and they've sworn not to attempt to collect him every again. Oh yes, I know of them."

Gwen looked interested now, depression seeming to lift. "What do you know, Mora? I've heard a little from Abel, but I'd like to know more. Why do they want to capture us?"

"Like I said, they are collectors. As far as I can tell, there aren't very many of them, but they are quietly powerful. They work with the Volturi, to ensure they won't be bothered by anyone. We had to work directly with the Guard to even attempt to make the deal." She shivered at the memory. Gwen looked awed and more than a little scared at the thought.

"They work for the super-rich, those people who have so much money they've done or own everything else. Some people collect art. Some people collect stamps or coins. Some collect vampires. Usually only those with a power are targeted; the Samlare features some of the best trackers the world has seen. A client orders them to hunt for something specific, usually a certain power, and the look. They never stop looking. Once they've found you, they overpower you, usuing one of their own people's power; a mind control of sorts. Like Cort's, but more powerful, less command and more like total brainwashing."

She laughed bitterly. "At least you have a chance to resist Cort."

Gwen was gaping, shocked, and I probably had the same look on my face. I thought I knew a lot about the people chasing me, but it turns out Mora knew much, much more.

"Once you're captured, they ship you to their client, the person who bought you. You're ordered to obey every command, and that order sticks with you. It never leaves. You can't fight it… it's like a compulsion. Usually the captures are only put on display, the client's titillating new collectable. But sometimes… sometimes they make you fight."

Gwen made a revolted sound.

"It's like dog fighting." Mora's voice turned hard. "The dog fighting for those tired of the regular kind. The loser is sometimes burned, if he loses badly enough."

I cleared my throat, somehow clogged listening to the bitter, hateful recitation of what the people hunting me would do if they caught me, prepared to ask the question that begged to be answered. Gwen beat me to it.

"How… how do you know?" She asked it in a quiet, pained whisper.

"You know what I am, Gwen." The pragmatic, no-nonsense tone was back. She looked at me. "What did Emmeline call you? Oh yes, the watchdog." She turned her red eyes back to Gwen. "Your watchdog here doesn't, but you do. Do you know how valuable I was? They caught me long before I met Cort. I was lucky; my 'master' was kind, kinder than many of them. I convinced him to set me free, to buy my protection. To the Samlare, I'm still owned; I can't be hunted."

She stopped talking, looking up, and a slow smile graced her face. I turned, resisting the urge to jump backwards when I saw a man standing on the other side of the chair Gwen sat in. It wasn't because he surprised me by being there; I had heard him come in. No, this was for a different reason.

Cortland grinned at me in that annoyingly careless way he had always possessed. "Hello, cousin. How nice to see you here."

A/N: Aha! Plot!