What Doesn't Kill You...

A Favor

"Long time no see, Violet..." Alistair's silky voice seemed to come from all sides of the darkened room. It echoed and bounced in front, behind, and  above them. "Oh...and I see you've brought a guest. Deathless."

Damon ground his teeth at the vampire's mocking tone.

"Cut the parlor tricks, Alistair." Violet stepped forward as light suddenly illuminated the room.

Apparently, Alistair's 19th century theme hadn't stopped at the club floor. The office was tricked out with gas lamps, 19th century antiques dotted the room. Damon suspected they weren't imitations, but rather Alistair's actual possessions. There wasn't much known about Alistair's past. Once he rose to power, none opposed him. He was one of the most respected and feared vampire leaders in the region.

"You take the fun out of everything Violet." Alistair remonstrated, his voice coming directly in front of them. He sat behind his oak desk, elbows planted, his fingers steepled. "To what do I owe the honor of Death's soldiers?"

Damon let Violet take the lead. Vampire politics had never been his cup of tea. Their complex methods of negotiations had never appealed to him. To add to the tension, Violet and Alistair had history. She'd been Turned by a Rogue and left to fend for herself. The Rogue had once belonged to Alistair's coven. A kill order had been issued to eliminate the Rogue and whoever he had Turned. It was at a time when vampires and other paranormal beings had been fighting for legitimacy in the country. Any vampire who hunted without the coven's approval was killed to set as an example. If not for Charlie's interference, Violet would have died.

Alistair had tried for decades to get Violet to join his coven. No doubt to save face among his fellow vampires. Violet had refused every time. Vampires Turned by Rogues were ranked lowest in the coven. Treated little better than the humans who willingly served them.

Violet crossed her arms over her chest. "We're investigating a potential failed Turning. Any Rogues running around that we should know about?"

Damon frowned inwardly. More straightforward than he'd expected.

Alistair sighed. "Still so straightforward. You never did learn the nuances of our ways."

"I'm not interested in your bull--" Violet started retorting angrily.

"What she means to say is that we're concerned there might be a Rogue indiscriminately feeding and killing." Damon rushed to cut Violet off. On second thought, perhaps it was better if he negotiated. Alistair seemed determined to push her buttons.

"We found a zombie earlier tonight who was quite fresh. A preliminary examination of the body revealed fang marks. Vampire fang marks. We need to know if there's a possibility of a Rogue in town. It's in everyone's best interest to cooperate."

"It sounds like you've had your hands full." Alistair replied to Violet. He hadn't once looked at Damon while he spoke, but stared intently at her. Damon was starting to get a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Perhaps they should have started with a different vampire coven.

"Indeed. If you'd be so kind as to give us your response..." Damon trailed off.

Alistair's lips curved into an unpleasant smile. "Of course." He turned to look at Damon for the first time. Vivid catlike green eyes watched him like a bug under a pin. "I would be happy to help. There's just one condition."

Oh crap. Damon could feel the other shoe getting ready to drop.

"I need a little favor. Do this and I'll tell you everything I know."

Knowing he was going to regret this, Damon asked. "What's the favor?"

Alistair's smile widened, showing fang. "Stoker's main entertainment for the evening has cancelled last minute. I need someone to fill in." He turned to look at Violet. "You were a singer before you were Turned, were you not?"

"No." Violet refused, her voice even.

"Don't sell yourself short, darling. I'm sure you would have made it big if Lawrence hadn't ended your mortal life." Alistair's voice was laced with malice. "Come on...sing for me."