She knew Frost would give her the details of Maura's little impromptu date later when they were all back at the Institute, whether she wanted them or not.
Stepping out to the edge of the curb, she caught sight of a taxi and whistled, tossing her hand into the air. It stopped in front of her and she climbed in before giving the driver the address of the underground bar. Typical vampire hangout, it would seem.
She threw some bills over the headrest and got out of the car, smoothing out her dress as she walked over and descended the stairs leading to the bar's entrance. The repetitious thudding of bass dropping music assaulted her ears as she stepped inside.
It was dark, the faint glow of red lights the only contribution to the brightness in the place. A feeling of dread spread through every inch of her skin.
"Jane!" Casey called, and Jane spun around on the spot, trying to locate the owner of the voice.
"What do you want, Casey?" She called loudly, senses on high alert, waiting for the slightest sound to give away his location. The seraph dagger she'd slipped into her thigh sheath seemed to burn with the want to sink into the vampire.
"What I've always wanted, darling," he chuckled. "Your demise."
"Why?" she snarled, arms taut and ready for a brawl.
"Because you killed my sire, my fledglings, and as long as you are alive, my brethren, my kin will continue to fall victim to your swords and your wrath!" He roared.
"They deserved it, you good for nothing bloodsucker, just as you deserve it too!"
He chortled. "Oh yeah? You and what army? Still talking trash with nothing to back you up. No weapons, no backup; nothing! So you tell me, who do you think will walk out of here, and who do you think will lie here for eternity to rot amongst the maggots and the rats?"
She said nothing.
"That's right," he cooed. "You will simply disappear off the face of the planet, my dear, and no one will care. Not one single person will give a damn that you haven't returned home. And my family and I will celebrate the day I erased you from existence!"
"Show yourself, you bastard! If you wanna kill me, come right up to me and get me!" She taunted. "Or are you not enough of a vampire for that? Gonna make your little ones do it on your behalf because you're too much of a God damned coward?"
He hissed and all of a sudden he was right there in front of her, growling, pure hatred etched on his face.
"How many of you did I kill?" She wondered aloud, mockingly thoughtful. "You all look alike, I'm afraid I lose track."
"ENOUGH!" He yelled and jumped at her.
She caught him around the neck, keeping his fangs away from her, as they fell to the dusty concrete floor. They rolled until Jane was on top, using her knees to keep him pinned.
Vampires were supernaturally strong, though, and after only a few seconds he'd thrown her off of him before jumping up and smirking, walking closer to her body lying crumpled on the floor, on her side.
"Any last words?" He asked before leaning down and crouching over her.
"Not today," she growled, and whipping the dagger free from its sheath, she stuck him straight in the chest with it.
He howled with pain and sprang away from her, removing himself from the blade. The hole started pouring blood, and it ran through his shaking fingers as he stared down at it. "How?" he wheezed.
Jane stood up to her full height, dagger still in hand and approached him. "I never just keel over and die," she promised, and then using the dagger, she cleanly removed his head from the rest of his convulsing body.
She stood there for a moment, allowing the past events to catch up with her mind as her pulse raced and her limbs trembled with adrenaline. Taking control of herself, she wiped the dagger on the hem of her dress and checked the time. It was only just past ten thirty, so Frost and Maura should both still be at the bar.
Back outside, it took almost five minutes to hail a cab, but this driver liked to speed and the return trip took substantially less time than the instigating one. She shuffled out of the back, once again tossing money over the seat, and disappeared into the bar.
Maura's semi date with Dennis had gone rather well thus far, except there seemed to be an older gentleman watching her from the far end of the bar. Occasionally he'd take a sip from the dark beverage he was consuming, but more often than not, he seemed content simply to watch from afar.
In all honesty, it was starting to creep Maura out. She asked Dennis if he knew the guy in the corner and he said that everyone did. That there was the owner of the joint. Mr. Patrick Doyle himself. He even added a bit of patron gossip which stated that he was a brilliant warlock, but never told anyone so that the Clave wouldn't try to keep tabs on him.
At the remark, Frost stopped pretending not to eavesdrop and scoffed lightly.
Dennis had the good grace to blush. "Whoops, sorry, forgot what company I was keeping." He turned back to Maura, "Speaking of, I hope you don't find it rude, but what exactly are you? You don't have Marks like your pals, so you aren't a Shadowhunter. There doesn't seem to be a distinguishing characteristic which makes you a warlock. No fangs, no claws, you don't seem to be spinning the truth as you see it so that rules out the rest of the Downworlders. What are you?"
"Human," Maura replied, taking a sip of her drink, the one Jane had ordered for her ages ago. It was delicious and perfect for her, unlike the beverage Dennis had insisted her get for her, which remained only half touched at the side of the table. He didn't seem to notice her distaste for it, but rather filed it under it needs to be appreciated slowly, given the way he didn't seem to be the least bit offended.
She drew the conversation back to the topic of her curiousity. "So no one knows what exactly he is then?"
Dennis shook his head. "Nah, everything's just conspiracy theories really."
"He could be human?"
Dennis laughed. "Doubt it. Old bugger's been around longer than I can remember and I've been around for quite a while myself."
Trying not to sound too curious, and ensuring she wouldn't offend, she asked, "Would you mind telling me exactly how old that would be?"
"Oh about two hundred and thirteen. There were a couple of really drunk years where I don't remember much, so it's not as precise as you'd probably like." He eyed her carefully. "Is this going to be a problem for the future of our courtship?"
Maura blushed heavily and took a drink to buy her time, pointedly ignoring Frost's vague vomiting mimes across the table. "Not at all," Maura assured him.
He beamed. "Excellent. Care to dance?"
They took their leave of Frost, who sent them off with a quick wave of his hand. He wiled away the time inspecting the other bar patrons, but again, no one seemed different or off. No vampires with fresh blood red eyes. It was ridiculous. The culprit had to be here somewhere.
Some time later, they wandered back to the table and while Dennis was saying goodbye to some of his bar friends, Maura explained that Dennis was a budding artist, and he had some pieces he'd love to show her back at his place. She slipped a piece of paper with the address onto the table in front of Frost and said she'd return to the Institute as soon as she'd seen the pieces.
Frost scoffed and said, "Sure. Yeah, whatever you say, Maura."
Maura was perplexed by his tone, but Dennis was back and was offering her his arm so she didn't ask what he meant by that. She just left him playing with the edges of the note paper, his brow furrowed in concentration.
Jane went straight to the table she'd vacated earlier and noted with surprise that only Frost was sitting there. She sat down heavily and automatically started scanning the crowd for the familiar head of blonde hair.
"She's not here, Jane." Frost informed her.
"Where is she?" Jane demanded.
He rubbed the back of his neck. "She left with Dennis. He wanted to show her some art he was doing or something."
Her face fell first, but then she panicked. "What kind of art, Frost?"
He shrugged, bewildered as to why that would matter. "Never said."
She kicked him under the table, "Please, please tell me you have an address for that fucker!" He shoved a wrinkled paper at her. "Let's go, Frost!"
He rushed after her as she darted from the bar, tossing money behind him as he went. "Where are we going? What's going on?"
"Keys, now!" She instructed, ignoring his inquiries. He tossed them to her and they moved quickly, jumping and flying from the parking lot.
"Jane, tell me what the fuck is going on!"
"He's the one, Frost! He's the one we're after! He hides his victims in statues because he's an artist! That must be how he manages to lure all his victims away, he persuades them with an art viewing, all private-like, and they just fall for it! Maura included!"
Her foot pressed down further on the pedal, causing them to fly down the streets of Boston to the apartment building on the paper. She came to a bumpy stop outside the place and sprinted up the steps, Frost hot behind her. She almost wiped out on the stairs from her high heels, but recovered her balance just in time.