Means for Justice

Darcy and Claude had left the house - Dante was staying behind because his routine dictated that this Saturday was the day he cleaned the house. Darcy challenged Dante often, and without reservation either, but she knew better than to mess with his routine. His routine was the only thing keeping him from becoming a monster. It was the only thing preventing him from sneaking into her room and attempting to burrow his fangs into her neck. Claude never thought to challenge Dante. Claude never thought to disagree with anyone so long as they were not harming anyone, and if Dante wanted to clean up after them, Claude would fully support him in that decision. More power to the vampire.

But the half-siblings could not help but rise today. Rumors had touched the winds that Death Eaters were on the move. Just the other night, they had spoken to a bartender who had told them a strange tale about a fight that no one seemed to remember. One of the women he remembered from that night had a strange face - marred and disfigured. It fit the bill of Morrigan Devlin, a werewolf the crime-fighting siblings knew much about. And there was definitely the thought that magic was somehow involved, seeing as the extraordinary circumstances did not quite add up.

They were intending on finding the bad guys. Claude had nine kills under his belt, not counting the murder of his father. Darcy did not like killing, but had helped three men find their way onto the afterlife when they would refuse to surrender. The two were hoping to either bring in a Death Eater, or at least catch the man who had supposedly mugging muggles in the neighborhood. Anything to put them closer to a safer world.

((Not gonna bring Morrigan into this quite yet....but Marguerite knows of the Fenrir pack, and may be of some help....should the McNair's give her cause to want to help. She'd be most interested in Dante.))

Marguerite squinted her eyes against the failing rays of the sun. Her age made the possibility of walking around in daylight possible for short periods of time, but it greatly weakened her to do so, and she was not so keen to do anything that would result in her constitution being weakened. She was AWOL from the school for the weekend, but she doubted any of the Professors would notice....or care for that matter. She was not allowed to feed at the school, even if it be with voluntary donors. Voluntary donors were extremely hard to come by lately anyways, so she was forced to feeding only once a week, gorging herself on the blood of humans only on the weekends.

Marguerite peered through the window blinds, her eyes sweeping the lifeforms bustling on the street below her. She had sneaked into the attic of this abandoned house for the sole purpose of its vantage over the streets and alleyways of this town. Her eyes immediately fastened upon a young girl who seemed to be walking alone with none to escort her. She seemed to be moving with a purpose, and seemed most likely to arrive in a darkened alleyway with no witnesses which would be the most suitable situation for Marguerite to feed. Marguerite never fed from bums, or those she viewed as being the dregs of society...even though they would be the easiest prey. No, Marguerite's favorite victims were the young and the vivacious. The girl her eyes were currently fastened on was a perfect fit to the prey she had accustomed herself to.

The final rays of light now screened by the buildings around her, Marguerite slid the window open and glided out onto the rooftop, following her chosen victim for the night from atop the numerous buildings spread across the community.

((I may make Claude a werewolf. Fenrir's pack would consider him one of the last living heirs, as he is a child of Fenrir. Of course, he wouldn't want to be, but that may make wonderful plotting for Morrigan and Claude.))

Rose was walking down an unfamiliar street, her hair pulled into a ponytail and a hat pulled on. She carried her duffel bag and was trying to pick out a place to stay for the night. It looked like it would be an alley. She sighed. Her life.


"C'mon, Darcy, one more time, we really need to get this right," Claude hissed to Darcy.

She let out a sigh. "I don't wanna anymore."

"Please?"

She sighed, once again. "Alright. Go for it."

He grinned, walking with a little more pride. "I want my baby-back-baby-back-baby-back, I want my baby-back-"

"Chili's, baby back ribs!" Darcy sang, harmonizing.

Claude grinned goofily when his half sister suddenly reached out and gripped his arm. She pointed down the street to a building where a figure was sliding out the window. Claude immediately became business and separated, hurrying under the eaves of the buildings as he jogged down the street, quickly entering the building where they had spotted the figure.

Darcy walked down the street, her arms casually folding, though her hands were now in her jacket, where a multitude of weapons had been placed. Her eyes darted about, taking in the other pedestrians. There weren't many, and most were heading into shops. Only one seemed to be remaining on the street - a solitary girl. Her eyes fixed on this one, a redhead toting a duffel bag.

Claude, meanwhile, had entered the building and was systematically busting in doors on the floor he had spotted the figure from. Each turned out to be a bust, when, he opened the fourth door.

"Hold it," Claude commanded out the open window.

((Wonder if Kiera would mind having Remisto as Dante's creator. XD That'd be interesting...We'd maybe have to find someone to be Remisto, though....<.<))

Marguerite froze, her eyes following the form of the girl disappearing into an alley. She could easily lose these humans, she was sure, but perhaps her food had come to her. Marguerite hadn't tasted the blood of a viral young man for quite a few moons now.

"What right have you to demand anything of me?" Marguerite asked, slowly turning to face Claude, her eyes glinting red against the failing sunlight.

((That would be interesting!))

Darcy moved slowly, watching the girl's progressed down the street. She was seemingly clueless about the danger unfolding around her.


Claude smiled his awkward smile, withdrawing one of the sharpened stakes from under his jacket. He always carried them, as they often had vampire issues. "I figure this might give me authority."

Marguerite grinned at Claude, flashing her teeth. She maintained her comfortable, unconcerned stance, knowing from experience that intimidation was often the best tool against an enemy.

"So I see you know of my kind," she stated, keeping her eyes on the boy's face, "Tell me, boy. Do you have any idea how many centuries I have walked this earth? ....and how many self-proclaimed vampire hunters I have dispatched? You do not live as long as I have without the need to defend oneself against those tools which may lead to your demise."

She paused, her eyes finally leaving his face to regard the sharpened stake in his hand.

"I shall give you the opportunity to rethink your next move."

He listened patiently and then, in his simple manner, said, "I'm more charming that those other guys I'm sure. More polite. I'm not here to kill you, just to ensure that you'll never hurt someone ever again."

Marguerite laughed lightly, daring to throw her head back, brazenly exposing her tender neck.

"At that, perhaps you are!" she laughed, "but I must confess that I detest the way you humans accuse us of hurting others. Should I entertain the desire to harm a mortal, then I shall. I admit that the urge to drain one of you beasts to the last salty drop is often quite tempting, however I restrain that desire, and you live. In my eyes, you are all cattle, lumbering about...trying to get through your short and pointless lives. I am fair. I do not kill....lest it be a man or woman with an evil soul."

Marguerite smiled mischievously, "I am even gentle in my ministrations," she said in a sultry voice, "There are those who would beg for me to partake in the taste of their throat....they say it is a greater feeling than that of climax within the throes of intercourse."

Marguerite took a step forward, holding her hand out invitingly.

"I could show you if you like."

"I wouldn't accuse if it wasn't true," Claude responded. "I've only met one vampire who has managed to refrain from taking blood in my whole life, and I've met plenty more who takes lives anytime they can."

He shook his head. "I'll pass. I just don't want you to hurt the girl."

"Ah, but taking the blood does not necessarily mean I am hurting the human," Marguerite argued, "We are living beings needing sustenance as well. You have me curious, however....what authority have you to order me away from the girl....and where does this bravado you posses come from? You do realize that you have put yourself in harm's way, correct? I could attack and severely harm you...should the fancy hit me. What sort of person comes between a vampire and her meal so alone?"

Marguerite's eyes flashed towards the stake in his hand, and she smiled wanly, "...and so ill-equipped?"

He shrugged. The man was not one for words. He thought of things in the simplest of terms, in the most base of realities. With a meek smile, he responded, "I have authority because I'm a good guy. And I feel safe because... well, I'm not alone."

Suddenly, a small bottle crashed through the window, courtesy of his half sister.. Claude suddenly whipped out a makeshift mask, that had goggles and a small surgical mask. The gas released was simply a thick smoke filling the air, rather than any of their other gases. However, a small element of it could put anyone who breathed in the fumes for more than five seconds into a deep sleep. He backed out of the room, his eyes darting around in the dark.