The Strain: Another Season
Episode 8

Four Nervous Vendors
Chapter Six

Marseilles, France - 1911

In the office of a fine arts auction house, a second, very nervous, vendor sits across from the auctioneer, the closed Occido Lumen on the desk between them.

'Who do you think will bid for this item, Mademoiselle Hostia?' asks the auctioneer, reaching to open the book.

Hostia's hand is cobra-fast as she intercepts his. He flushes a little at the contact. 'Don't look inside, monsieur,' she warns. 'It will possess you.'

He suppresses a derisive snort because, after all, she is very beautiful.

She has learnt the value of wigs by now and sports a stylish brunette number which makes her eyes stand out like blue enamel.

'I believe that everyone who has heard the legends will be interested in the Lumen,' she says, fiddling anxiously with her cuffs.

'And is there anyone in particular that you are hoping will attend the sale?'

Hostia nods. 'My family.'

The auctioneer leans back with a sigh and folds his hands on his stomach. 'You are not talking about your sister and brother and mother are you?'

She shakes her head.

His disappointment is palpable.

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn – Present

Eph attempts to regain the group's attention from Dutch and Sandra by repeating, 'Where is the silver serum I was testing? Slightly more important than the secrets of your gossip column…It's a potential cure.'

'Eph,' sighs Nora wearily. 'For the last time, it is not a cure. It is a slow poison.'

'Well, doc,' Fet answers, with a degree of accusation, 'when you went off risking everything to attack Palmer, I went after you and I took it with me. You'd scrawled a skull and crossbones all over the label. Thought it might be useful.'

'So it's wherever your pants are?' says Eph.

'Where does Eichhorst keep his victim's clothes, Mum?' Dutch asks Sandra with a wince. She understandably doesn't want to think about her mother chained naked in Eichhorst's lair.

'No idea,' shrugs Sandra. 'They just appeared whenever he wanted me to wear something different.'

'Yughh,' mutters Dutch looking nauseated.

'The guards would've searched my pockets for weapons before they stripped me wouldn't they?' says Fet.

Sandra nods. 'Mr Fitzwilliam, call your man inside Stoneheart, see if he remembers what happened.'

Fitzwilliam pulls out his phone and wanders away into the lab for a little privacy.

When he returns, he announces, 'Ken says he saw the new chief take a bottle through into Eichhorst's apartment. I've also told him to pull all my old team out. There's going to be a backlash for tonight's work and, with respect Ms ffinch-Myles, I don't want them taking the fall for you. Maybe you'd take care of them, let them work for FinchCorp?'

Sandra is distracted. 'Fine, fine,' she says airily. 'Soooo… Eichhorst's got his hands on some silver solution…Eichhorst who's just been assaulted with silver…Eichhorst who has sworn to find a way through my silver armour…' she muses. 'Neels, can you turn on his webcam?'

'I...guess…' says Dutch and opens up her laptop for a quick tappity-tap. It takes seconds but Sandra is bouncing around as excited as a pre-walkies Labrador.

Everyone clusters around the monitor but there's so much shoving and Sandra's elbows seem to be wherever anyone else tries to stand, that Dutch feeds it through to the big screen upstairs and the audience gathers there instead.

Sandra is far too close, and far too eager, as the television displays the view from Eichhorst's living room computer.

Outskirts of Central Park, Manhattan

The strigoi that used to be Kelly Goodweather is strolling home alone through the slushy nighttime streets, clad only in her blood red evening dress. She watches a pair of smartly-suited city gents inexpertly fighting each other for a catering-sized can of hotdogs from a street vendor's cart. Then she is distracted by a couple hurrying past her deep in intimate conversation. She follows them with a wistful expression before a solitary man crosses her path, tempting her to hunt.

Suddenly a single Feeler, a blind vampire-child, crawls out of a subway entrance and crouches in front of her, clicking excitedly. It is wearing an over-sized hooded parka and would pass for human if not for its stance and insectoid vocalisation.

The child stands up straight and its eyes start to glow red. It speaks to Kelly with the Master's voice.

'Kelly, you were doing so well…'

She bows her head in reverence. 'Mr Eichhorst was in trouble,' she says.

'I know,' says the Master ominously. 'He still is.'

'He called me away.' It's not uttered as an arse-covering excuse, merely a statement of fact.

'You will try again tonight, my child. Your husband has been spotted in Red Hook. Take Lucille under the river and track him down. You will be reunited with your Loved Ones soon.'

Sotheby's Auction House, York Avenue, Upper East Side, Manhattan - Present

Although it's very late at night, two female executives stroll through the corridors discussing an impending sale.

'Are you nervous, Hilary?'

'Are you joking? I'm terrified, aren't you, Jamila?'

'Of course. I'm just glad I'm not alone. Twelve years I've worked here. I handled the Guennol Lioness personally and led the marketing team on The Scream but the Occido Lumen makes me feel like a green intern.'

'It's special isn't it?' agrees Hilary. 'It's unique and so old. You know, if this goes through, it'll be only the third time it's been sold successfully. Five hundred years and only two other completed sales,' she wonders. 'How did it travel around the world for so long?'

'Stolen, I guess…looted…"borrowed"…and inherited, of course,' says Jamila.

'It was last offered for sale in France over a century ago but there was a plague.'

'Spanish 'flu come early, do you think?' suggests Jamila, a shade too hopefully.

'The way the client told it, it was just like the one in the city at the moment - the one that's all over the news.'

'The client? She can't have been there though, surely.'

Hilary shrugs. 'If that book could talk, it would have some tales to tell,' she muses.

'I'm sure.'

'There's an aura about it, isn't there? Like it understands,' says Hilary.

'You don't really believe the item is cursed, do you?' Jamila asks nervously.

Hilary hesitates. 'No…no,' she says uncertainly. 'That'd be ridiculously superstitious. Every time it shows up though, there are fires, murders, riots, plagues and tales of monsters. Whoever owns this thing attracts bad luck, no question.'

'And yet, the rich and powerful in this city are still tripping over each other to acquire it,' says Jamila.

'It's said that everyone who opens it becomes possessed by desire.'

'Who do you think is going to win it?'

'Eldritch Palmer is very interested and he's the richest man in the country,' Hilary points out.

'Haven't FinchCorp also registered a bidder?'

'None other than Alexandra ffinch-Myles...'

'The Well Dressed Man's not-so-mystery blonde?' says Jamila.

'Uh-huh,' nods Hilary. 'And Finch are going to televise the auction. I have a meeting with them tomorrow. It's going to be quite the event.'

'Thank God it won't be our problem for much longer.'

The last two nervous vendors step into a lift to the car park.