Princes of the Undead

Part 42

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"You can change your mind, but it needs to be now, you can't go getting cold feet when we are in there."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes Agatha Van Helsing kept her eyes on the house they were staking out. Agatha would have been lying if she said wasn't nervous, but it would have been a lot easier to manage without Dracula breathing down her neck, asking her every five seconds if she wanted to back out of this. She wasn't a woman that went back on her decisions once she made them.

"Beloved..."

"Hush Vlad lets get this over with, there is only so much of your fussing I can handle."

Pouting a little at the rebuke, Dracula did his best to push down his concerns for her. He couldn't deny that the idea of knowingly taking Agatha into a dangerous situation was warring with his need to keep her safe. He had waited five hundred years to have someone like Agatha in his life, his dearest love and potentially the mother of his child, and now he was willingly following her, no leading her into danger. It went against everything he believed and yet he was still doing it because Agatha was right; she was better suited to deal with the man who had ordered her death, and all he could do was watch her back and do his best to keep her safe.

Watching as the changing guards disappeared Vlad nodded for Agatha to move ahead of him, the pair of them staying in the shadows as they climbed the surrounding wall and then moved to climb up the side of manse. Dracula was the one to slide his nails between the ancient windows, lifting the lock and easing the window open, he was also the one to drop inside silently, his gaze scanning the room for any sign of a threat before offering his hand to Agatha.

Allowing him that one act of chivalry, Agatha accepted his hand and dropped down beside him, closing the window behind her. Sniffing the air Agatha could make out the scents of several vampires who had been in this room only a few hours ago, something that was difficult over the rather overpowering scent of lavender oil they had doused their stolen clothing in, to mask their own scent. Beside her Dracula was doing the same, his tracking skills far in advance of her own, and he nodded towards the door on the left.

Trusting that Dracula had their prime target in mind, Agatha fell in step behind him, stepping exactly where he stepped; despite her own training he was the expert at this and like with the preparation Agatha was happy to leave finding Pazzi in his hands. Once they found him, then she could take over. In other circumstances Agatha might have marvelled at their beautiful surroundings, the ancient manse was just one owned by another vampire clan. The Conti family had long been residents of Rome, and owned several ancient buildings, that made up a secure complex on one of Rome's seven hills. They had invited the Pazzi clan to stay in one of their houses, rather than in a hotel; that their second son had been Isabella's other, and was now her only suitor, no small influence.

Attacking Pazzi here was perfect. Not only was he outside of his own territory, but he was under the protection of one of the larger clans. His "death" under their roof would sow seeds of discord between the major vampire families. Each casting suspicion on the others, and none more so than on the Conti family; who with a marriage between their son and Pazzi's only natural child, and a daughter at that, would be in a fortuitous position to simply absorb the much smaller, and less influential Pazzi clan into their own, a veritable coup d'etat.

Or at least that was how they were hoping it would play out. There was always the risk that blame would fall on Clan Dracula, simply because of the recent discord between them, but suspicion was not proof, and as long as they kept their cool...

Sliding into the darkened room Dracula paused just inside, his eyes fixed on the one point of light, the desk lamp was still on, and bent over the desk, his hand moving slowly but steadily was one Elder Pazzi...still awake...a problem he had not foreseen. As if sensing he was no longer alone, Pazzi's head lifted and he sniffed the room...the scent of lavender confusing him, if the furrowed brow from his side profile was any indication.