Draven contemplated ending this whole bloody war once and for all. The Mortuus cocksuckers were getting on the last of her nerves. Not only had they taken everyone she had ever loved, but they were still trying to kill her. After forty thousand plus years, you would think they'd find something better with their damn time that to pester the shit out of her, but oh no. They were like a fucking disease. Didn't they take enough in Rome, in Egypt? The Council didn't know what had happened, save for her, Stratovarius, and Dasani. Dasani he was dead, and Stratovarius wasn't talking. Sighing to herself, she rubbed at her temples absent mindedly. The Mortuus Clan, a sect of Rogue Vampires who wanted to rid the world of the Sanguine Veil and prey openly on Humanity. Draven would be damned if she would allow them to do that. She had made a promise centuries ago. She had promised Karise as he lay dying in her arms that she would never let the Veil fall, not as long as she lived. Draven had survived this long. She wasn't about to let some petty Children get the best of her.

The Scrolls of An'ket were strewn about the table before her. They had been found at last, thanks to Jezza and her many connections throughout Egypt and Southern Africa. Vangelo sat across from her, his dark brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He wore a white button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing the muscled forearms he possessed. The charcol gray slacks looked comftorable enough. He was a business man afterall, dealing mostly within antiquities now a days.

"I am amazed. These Scrolls were thought to have been lost." Vangelo looked up from his translation of the third page. "You have translated this already?"

"Most of it, yes." Draven replied still rubbing at her temples.

"I am impressed. With both you and Jezza."

"This could be the whole reason behind why the Mortuus keep attacking us. It could be why they're trying to take me out of the picture. It seems that from my lovers in the past have passed onto me their gifts when they died. Or it could be exactly what these Scrolls prophisized."

"Do you really think you're the Prophet, Draven?"

"Do you?"

Vangelo considered it for a moment. "To be honest with you, yes I do. You were always different from us all. Equal in intelligence, power, speed and strength, but there was always something about you that screamed different. Something that made you powerful. Now we know why. It is rumored among the Fledgings that you are the sole Prognator for the Vampire race."

"We all know how much bullshit that is."

"Yes, but they will view you as a God, Draven."

"I don't want to be a God, Vangelo. I want to keep this Veil in place."

"It has held for well over forty thousand years, and any time it is tried, the bonds hold tight. They can not break us, Draven. Not after all we've been through."

"I do hope you're right."

"Don't tell me you're loosing faith."

"Loosing faith, no, but look at the new generations of Children we have, Vangelo. They are not ready for this battle. How can we train them like old times when those days are gone? They died with-"

"Don't, Draven. The old days didn't die and you know it. This new generation doesn't understand the Elders. They think we are nothing more than disillusioned senior citizens."

"They need a new lesson."

"Yes, they do."

"Then we must call a Meeting. All of us. The Circle of Six and the entire Nation of our kind. We must train and prepare them."

Vangelo smiled and reached across the table to rest his hand against her own. "They would be proud of you."

A sad smile touched her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I know." Draven reached down and ran her fingers lovingly through her daughters full head of black curls. Radraven had busied herself with scribbling on a piece of black parchment with a black crayon. She was definately her father. Her skin held just the barest trace of gray. She was growing quickly. Six years had passed since she had been born and Radraven seemed to be growing faster with each passing day. Draven was almost afraid to open her bedroom door one night and see a grown woman laying on a child's bed. Somehow it wouldn't surprised her, it had happened to her nearly forty thousand years ago.



Draven prefered the solitude and freedom that a motorcycle had to offer. The feel of the wind in her hair, the open road stretched out in front of her. There was nothing like it. Her long hair was tied back so that it didn't whip in her face. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses, keeping the passing street lights and headlights from reflecting off of her eyes like a cat. She had traded her modest clothing for the uniform of a streetbiker. All leather. The pants and jacket were made from the same black material, bullet proof, fire proof, etc (all modifications created by a dear friend of hers). Draven wore no helmet. She didn't need one. Crashing the bike wouldn't kill her, unless of corse something were to sever her head. Small headphones were plugged into her ears, belting out The Open Door cd by Evanescence, a band that was titled "Gothic Rock". She liked them because most of the songs fit into her life somehow. Radraven was spending time with Vangelo, her current babysitter. He had grown quite fond of the young girl. Even Draven could see a connection between the two and she had a feeling that once Radraven was fully matured, the Vega Elder would make his move.

Draven took the exit off the freeway and reduced her speed as she curved around the off ramp which banked sharply to the right. She wasn't quite ready to go home yet, even though Dawn was closing in. She needed to clear her head and think. This was the best way she knew how. It wasn't too much further until she reached the club, just another block or two.

Black Dahlia. The sign was illuminated in blacklight purple. Just at the boundries of the City Limits. If she stepped beyond this club, then she would be in Mortuus territory. The Black Dahlia was still Sanguine terf and they knew better than to show their faces here. Pulling in front of the club, which already had a long line of waiting patrons, Draven killed the bike's engine and swung her leg over the side of the two wheeled machine. She reached up and pushed the sunglasses off her eyes and onto her head. Many of the men waiting in the line glanced in her direction and did a double take. More than likely they considered her the most beautiful woman they had ever laid eyes on. It wasn't Vampire parlor tricks. It was just the way she looked. Smiling inwardly to herself, she walked directly to the front of the line and flashed the bouncer a smile.

"Evening, Draven." The man standing just behind the velvet rope was large. Not weight wise, but height. He easily towered over her five foot two by at least a foot or more. He was muscular, the body-builder type. His head was cleanly shaved. He always reminded Draven of Goldberg, the wrestler.

"Evening, Rick. How's business tonight?"

"Eh, business as usual. No one's gotten rowdy yet, but now that you're here, I'm sure that will change. One look at you, even looking like a biker chick and they'll start howlin' at the moon."

Draven laughed and this time, it did reach her eyes, her previous self-dobut and loathing fading.

"Might I mention that you look absolutely hot tonight, D?"

"You're lucky you're the only one I let call me D." She replied, slipping past him as he held open the rope for her. He closed it immediately behind her and laughed softly.

"Try not to get the crowd too rowdy."

"I never do. It's just how they react."

"Ain't that the truth."

Draven bid Rick a good evening and slipped inside the club. She removed the headphones from her ears and slid them into an inside pocket of her jacket which she had unzipped, revealing the white tank top beneath. Nine Inch Nails blasted from speakers hidden somewhere among the shadowed ceiling. The calm before the storm. The taste of violence hung heavy on the air. Something was brewing tonight. Perfect, she thought, just what I need to get out my aggression, trouble.


After a few hours, the club began to bore her. Draining the last of the contents in her glass she left a hefty tip on the counter and turned to leave. A hand upon her shoulder stopped her.

"Leaving so soon, babe?" The man was obviously drunk, and obviously Lycan. It assailed her nostrils like the musky scent of the forest. Werewolf, she thought, this can't be good.

Taking a deep breath, Draven reached up and gently removed his hand from her shoulder. "Sorry, not interested." She turned to leave again.

"I wasn't asking if you were interested." He slurred, grabbing onto her upper arm, hard enough to make her annoyed. Draven cast one look at Rick who was making his way through the crowd towards her. She shook her head from left to right once. He wasn't going to make it to her in time. In a move far to quick for the drunken Lycanthrope to follow, Draven had pivoted, directly toward him. The palm of her hand connected with the backside of his elbow. It snapped audibly, painfully. He howeled in agony and slipped to his knees.

"Never put your hands on a lady." The others began to move then. He had come here with his entire pack. Great. Not in a mood to fight them all, Draven dashed for the door. The crowd parted for her, giving her just that much of an edge. Quickly, she ran through the open doors and out into the waiting night. She jumped onto her bike and immediately it roared to life. She didn't bother looking to see if they were following her, she knew they would. Draven spun the bike around nearly in the middle of the road and shot out onto the street, manovering the two wheeled machine in and out of the cars. She dodged opening doors, shot through spaces between pedisterans, and jumped a few curbs.

Still, they followed. Turning the bike sharply to the right, Draven jumped the curb, riding up the deserted sidewalk at neckbreaking speeds. The black SUV followed, mowing down tables and chairs and even a few mail boxes. Bloody Lycans. They were more destructive than Vampires. A traffic jam was up ahead. If she could just get through that light, she might be able to loose them. Draven pulled back as far as she could on the accelerator. The bike shot forward, pulling ahead of the SUV. A black car screeched to a halt just at the sidewalk of the adjoining intersection. The doors opened, and a small army of men with guns filed out. Cursing softly, Draven leapt from the motorcycle. The bike crashed into the large window of one of the closed shops, flames errupting from the ruptured gastank of the bike. Landing easily on her feet, Draven ducked into the closest alley.

"This is utter bullshit." She mumbled softly to herself as to banked to the left, sneaking behind a few buildings. Canal Street. Perfect, there was bound to be some sort of establishment open for her to take refuge in. Just up ahead, a door was open, lights blazing. Pins and Needles Tattoo Parlor. What was a tattoo studio doing open at nearly four am? Fuck it, she thought. Draven ducked into the open doorway, shutting the door closed behind her. The tinted windows would provide just a bit of camoflauge.

"May I help you?" An overly unprofessional voice asked. Draven's attention was finally turned to the occupants of the shop. The man sitting there with a tattoo gun in hand was rather grotesque. Fat, balding, middle aged, and more than likely a pervert. She could sense his intentions even without ever reading his thoughts. Her eyes turned to the man laying on the chair. There was an intricate tattoo design covering most of his chest and curving over his ribs. Definately Human as well, but the mans appearance was slightly striking. His long white hair was pulled back into a thick braid. His eyes were different colors, iradescent. He squirmed slightly and there was blood on his chest from the needle.

"I told you not to move!" The balding man shouted, completely ignoring the fact that Draven was still standing there. "You've just ruined a reputable piece of artwork, you bloody idiot! You're lucky I don't lash the shit out of you again."

The Vampire's eyes widened. There were old scars adorning the mans upper arms and back, but most of them were covered by the ink now. Yup, definately asking for trouble tonight. Sighing softly, Draven reached into the waistband of her pants just at her lower back and slowly slid the Desert Eagle from its hiding place at her lower back. The things she did for Humans..

There was something calling her towards the basement, she had felt it the moment she had set foot in the tattoo parlor. Curious, she opened the door of the backroom that led downstairs. It was definately stronger now. Draven held the gun, barrel aimed towards the ceiling. Just as she was about to decend down, the front door of the tattoo studio burst open. Oh boy, she thought, this can't be good. Thinking quickly, she darted silently towards the bathroom, leaping over the uncouncious body of the tattoo artist. She made a display of flushing the toilet and running the water in the sink. Tucking the gun into the waist band of her leather pants, just at the small of her back, Draven shed the jacket, draping it onto the hook beside the door. Opening the door to the bathroom just as silently as she had closed it, she grabbed a handful of papertowel, making a show of drying her hands as she strode out into the lobby.

"May I help you, gentlemen?" There were four all together. The Lycans had obviously split up. Draven only hoped that the chemical smells of the tattoo parlor would hide the scent of her Vampiricy.

"Just looking." One of them grunted, giving her the once over.

"Interested in couples tattoos?" The two men standing next to one another took a two foot step apart. Inwardly, Draven chuckled. Gets'em everytime.

"No. We're looking for someone."

"Well, there's only the two of us here." This came from the man still laying casually upon the chair. Draven was surprised he was playing along, especially with his boss, Master, whatever the hell he was, laying uncouncious in the back room. Just as she stepped past the Human, she felt his hand reach up, unseen by her body and grip the handle of the gun sticking out of her pants. The other gun was hidden safely, just behind the chair in which the Human, Talon was stretched out upon. Not only did the Human's hand seem to hesitate at her ass, but she could feel the weight of his gaze lingering there briefly. Men and their damn sexual drives. I thought my Bloodline was bad.

"No one asked you, boy."

"Hey. If you're going to come in here and start with the attitude, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I do have work to do."

One of the Lycanthropes stepped close to her. Tensing, Draven didn't move as he sniffed the air beside her head. "Vampire!"

Shit. Not good at all. A shot rang out, biting into her shoulder. It stung like hell. Dropping to the floor, she noticed Talon standing to his feet, using her gun to render the Lycanthropes into piles of writing and groaning tissue. One shot, one kill each. He was good. For a Human.

"You're bleeding." Draven reached out to tend to his wound, but he practically slapped her hand away. "If you're worried about me attaching myself to your wound and sucking on it like a leech, I assure you I have already fed earlier. Your blood doesn't call to me."

"Gee, that makes me feel so much better." She noticed him sway on his feet. Talon glanced down at his chest still bleeding from the wound the tattoo gun had made. His skin turned pale, deathly white and he sank to his knees. Draven caught him immediately, and carried him with ease to the back room. A Human who passed out at the sight of his own blood. Smiling at the ironicness of it, she took the gun from his hands, tucking it back into her pants. The other gun she'd leave here for him incase more Lycan's came.

Draven fixed up his wound as best she could and left him laying on the cot in the back. There was that itch of a presence again, scratching at the back of her subcouncious. Drawing her gun, she silently manovered over to the basement door. It was still open from before. Carefully she took one step at a time. It was dark, but she could make out the shapes of the furniture with her night vision. A light flicked on suddenly, momentarily blinding her. "What in the bloody hell!?" A hand clamped itself over her mouth. Draven's eyes went wide, and her first instinct was to fight, but as her vision focused on the face, her body felt like liquid. The hand removed itself from her mouth.

"Dasani..."

Everything went black as the world around her faded.