Through the Halls of Roses and Darkness (Vinaein x Story)

[Vinaein]

Everyone was nervous when accused of murder and Leon LaCroix was little exception.

The young vampire was standing before the mirror, examining himself in the neatly tailored suit, a trim black and white to fit his muscled figure, his dark hair immaculately combed, blue eyes staring back at his reflection, one hand brushing against his smooth chin as he hid any traces of nervousness. He had excused himself to the restroom while his brother had handled any conversation with the officers in the hotel room they had commandeered, only dimly aware of any proceeding chatter from that region. He was simply focused on his reflection, the memory thundering about in his head: Nora was dead.

He had last seen her just the other evening, vivacious and charming as ever, laughing with him when he had bid her farewell, exchanging a kiss to her cheek and a wink. That was how e wanted to remember her, not the vacant and hollow-eyed gaze in the photos they had been shown. His father had assured him that they had nothing to worry about. Should they have a reason or need to arrest him, if he was truly suspected He would have been sealed and hauled off like a rogue poltergeist. It did him little good.

He had tried to act blase as possible, to pretend he had been unbothered. It had lasted as long as he could endure the teeth of anxiety gnawing away at his insides. He had excused himself quickly, trying to think on what he recalled from the previous night. Nora was dead, he thought. Sweet, playful Nora, who had harmed nobody. Who had loved dancing, drinking, who had enjoyed his company not for his family name or wealth, but who had delighted in talks of literature and history, who had lent him books in return for loans of his own, who had never greeted another being with anything but kindness. They'd been many things to one another, even if she had been a mortal. But more than anything, she'd been a friend.

And now they thought he killed her. He was, after all, a known rake, who kept himself aloof from others. Why would the authorities trust or care that he could form anything like a bond with another living thing? He, Leon LaCroix, one of the children of the storied LaCroix dynasty, with their lengthy history. He, lover of narcotics, seducer of mortals, frequenter of establishments of ill repute so that he practically had his own room in some of them. He put a hand to his reflection, his expression cracking into the stressed pain he felt. How could anyone know him, truly know him, and think he had done this?

"Leon, you alright?"

He paused and turned to greet his brother, an older version of himself, with a broad and friendly grin that revealed the tips of two pale, ivory fangs. "Don't you worry. Father's on it. Little talk with the police here, and you've got nothing to worry about," Ambrosio waved a hand dismissively. "No idea what you were thinking, heading off the way you did, but there ya go, little brother....still, nothing to worry about. It's still being 'investigated,' but...

Leon barely heard the rest. He wasn't being arrested not because anyone believed his innocence but because of good old fashioned corruption. Bribes here and there...who'd care about Nora dying then? She was a suburban young woman with a normal human family. The only ones who might care were her family, who he had never met. Who might hate him, think he was a murderer. So Leon did all e knew how to do. He threw up a dangerous smile and raised a hand.

"Bout time, can we go?" He asked in a bored tone. "I'm through with this place. Never want to be back..."

"Can hardly blame you," his brother slung an arm about him. "There may be police investigations, maybe independent ones...but we can handle that- "

"I'm sure we can."

"We'll go over everything you need to say, bro...it'll be fine."

It'll be fine. That was what he ran over in his head. He, Leon LaCroix murder suspect, was soon in the back of a limousine, being taken back to the LaCroix estate. He had no idea how to behave. So he would simply be himself, the only thing he knew how to be. Taking a deep breath, he stared at the approaching gates...

Someone was going to be investigating him soon, he thought. Well, good.

Perhaps he could use that to get to the bottom of just whatever the hell had happened.

 

[Story]

Juniper Claire pushed the rims of her gold-rimmed glasses that were more than just … a pair of glasses … further up the bridge of her nose as she took in the sight of the establishment that she stood in front of, feeling both 100% out of place and equal parts disgusted.

Because she found herself standing in front of a club.

It wasn’t a place that she would arrive at willingly. The squall of voices surrounding her was the number one testament to that -- and she was still standing outside, in the parking lot that flared with flashing lights and the stink of tar and rubber. All around her, girls stumbled and tottered forward on heels that made their legs look like something found off of a praying mantis while the men leered behind them all the way up to the dour looking bouncer checking ID.

Well, at least he was checking ID.

Suntan Barbie with her brilliant bottle blonde hair and pink glossy lips looked like she might still be in middle school with her wide eyed obliviousness. It was the rack that most likely got her through the door, the ass that hung from her itty bitty dress that saw her through.

Juniper shuddered and stepped past the line of bodies waiting to be let in through the doors, shouldering past a disgruntled woman and her date with barely a glance their way when the man snarled something with a sweat beaded curl to his upper lip.

...bitch.

She smirked. Turned slowly on her heel, which happened to just be the bottom edge of a pair of black flats. Business casual. Like a pro, she lifted a single pale brow and considered the man muttering profanities. Looked him over real slow-like -- long enough to make both him and his female companion uncomfortable. Then, with a casual sniff, “You should consider putting on some more deodorant if you’re already sweating as much as you are.”

The man looked mean enough to snap her head from her shoulders with the way he balked at her audacity. The woman looked mean enough herself to try her hand at clawing Juniper’s face with her manicured nails.

Thankfully, she had gained the attention of the bouncer, who even started to open his mouth and say something. She stopped him with a finger that lifted, pressed to his lips, shushing him in the process as her other pulled her badge from where it hid underneath the dark blue blazer.

“I’m here to see Mr. LaCroix. We have a meeting tonight even if he doesn’t necessarily want one. Would you please take me to him?”

She dropped her hand back to her side, grimaced as she wiped her whole hand against her black slacks. Then she smiled in a way that was almost sweet if the rest of her face wasn’t pinched with the knowledge that she didn’t want to be there, either.

The bouncer looked as if he wanted to say something still, but after another good peering at her badge, he decided against it and instead pushed himself off his stool and uttered an annoyed, “Follow me, lady.”

She did -- reluctantly. She acted as though stepping into the darkly lit interior was like stepping into a cesspit. Only instead of scum and muck, she was instead surrounded by the blare of techno that thrummed against the very walls and a shock of colored lights that danced to their own toon across the smooth tile. The light glanced off the bodies that knocked together, then swung apart, gyrating and flailing like wild animals.

Though Juniper supposed that humanity was not so far away from returning to their original origins…

And the fact that a vampire princeling had stocked himself his own hotboxed pantry of hot, sweating humans did not help his case on who drained a susceptible young woman who was known to frequent both this club and his company.

She followed the bouncer around the crowd, making a broad circle around the activity, and swerved off into a darker, quieter hall that she assumed led to an office. She waited patiently as his bald head was stuck through a door, straining to hear what he said over the sound of bass. Cornflower blue eyes narrowed on him until he gestured impatiently.

“Thank you,” she said primly, eyes making their shift from the burly bouncer to inside the office as she stepped in, bringing her notebook around front to be held by both her hands over her lap. “Mr. Leon LaCroix? You are the owner of Absolution?”

 

[Vinaein]

Absolution was what mortals might have called Leon's 'happy place.' With the blaring music, the intense, pulsing lights within and all the beautiful people surrounding him, the vampire felt right at home. More than he did at the LaCroix family home. In fact, going home had been an exercise in frustration. It had not taken him long to realize something that had given him a sinking feeling from certain members of his family: they believed him guilty.

And who would care? One human of no account, next to the honor of the great LaCroix family? Mistakes happened, one of his cousins had told him. Everyone made them, after all. One well-to-do young noble of another house had once woken up next to a woman he couldn't even remember the name of, drained to the dregs. The family had made it so that it had never happened. The incident was covered up thoroughly. Leon would have some investigation, but as long as he kept his head down, he had nothing to worry about.

Just sit tight, let it run its course. The right connection here, a bribe there, and it would all work out. Just keep your head low, Leon. Remain in the manor. Don't respond to inquests. Forget it, she never existed. Leon had spent a short time contemplating that...in fact, anything he needed would be supplied. Want a party? They'd bring people in. Needed 'company?' Just name it and they'd order someone to spend time with him...he had it all, the proper little rich boy...he'd spent it in the library, thinking for a while.

Well, you know what? Fuck that, the conclusion Leon had come to. Without much of a word, he'd departed, taking one of his cars and driving it right to the city. It was, of course, expensive, sleek and shiny- you couldn't expect anything less. No, he didn't want a low profile at all. He wanted to hit up Absolution. He wanted to be investigated. He wanted closure. He wanted too much that he couldn't even begin to name. He wanted justice now.

Well, the police were corrupt and incompetent. One benefit to growing up in one of the most ancient and storied vampire households was firsthand knowledge of that fact. Oh, he LaCroixs were good boys and girls, weren't they? They behaved, they got ahead on merit, so they told everyone. But when the chips were down and their prince was in danger, they gave into some level of corruption, like anyone else.

He pulled out at the valet parking, the driver coming out. "That'll be- M-Mr. LaCroix. Ah, I didn't mean," He started. He was a young man, with pale skin, red hair and freckles. Evidently human. Lucian offered a grin, flashing a fang to him as he tossed him the keys.

"You know what?" Take it for a spin. Little joyride, go on an early break. Hell, fuck it," he pulled out his wallet. "Not the car.... Not literally, in fact," he said with a charming bent to his voice as he pulled out a small stack of bills. "It's a vintage Cobra, they don't make them like this anymore. Spin her back to me and here ya go." He peeled off three large bills and handed it to the doorman.

"Y-yes, sir!" The young man looked overwhelmed. "Without a scratch, sir, I promise!"

"Leon, c'mon," he said. "all friends here." Leon was wearing a dark suit and a long black coat, his hair neatly combed. The doormen recognized him and pulled open the doors, Leon entering the mouth of beautiful madness. Pulsing bodies ground and gyrating together to the music, people recognizing him. "Everyone!" He said with a laugh, hearing the cheers. The music grew dim as Leon waved a hand.

"C'mon, Bon Nui, mis amis!" He slipped into his mother tongue with a pronounced accent. "Eat, drink, be merry!" For tomorrow, we shall die. It had been one of Nora's favorite sayings. He sauntered in, sliding through the dance floor, to the bar and ordered a simple Old Fashioned. One young woman threw him a smirk, flaunting her neck.

"Wanna real drink?" She slurred, evidently quite intoxicated. Leon chuckled and signaled her friend.

"Keep an eye on her. Make sure nobody's messing with her, or her drinks," he flicked his hand, paying the bartender. "Tab it. In fact, I'm buying a round for everyone! Take it outta company accounts, Jane." Generous, lackadaisical, uncaring. Exactly the image he wanted to contemplate. "I'll hit the VIP spot later...show me to the office, huh, Georges?" He signaled a burly man, who gestured down a hallway.

Leaving the music behind (thank GOD that office was fucking soundproof,) Leon said he wanted to be alone. He dropped into a seat and opened a drawer of fine oak, sliding it out to reveal a picture....several people there, Nora grinning up at him. He lost his smile, exhaling as he reminded himself: play the role. Play the damn role.

There was a knock a time later, Leon exhaling in irritation. "Quoi?" He snapped, looking up. The bouncer's bald head poked in.

"Someone here to see you. Lady most insistent. Investigator, I- "

"Show her in. Right now, Georges," Leon closed the drawer and waited...of all the people to drop into this club, this was the last he might have expected. The first word that came to mind was 'prissy.' Immaculately dressed, glasses, hair that had evidently taken too long to fix up.... "You know this is a club, right? Cannot be comfortable to dance in that," he said. "Yeah, I'm the owner. Technically it's owned by the LaCroix family, but...it's in my name. I own it. Vampires owning nightclubs, original, right?"

He leaned back in the seat. "If you're in for the VIP area, we require membership. You could tyr to bribe me, but...well, whaddya get the man who has everything?" He laughed softly. "Make yourself right at home. I'm sure you have questions." His eyes met her blue ones.

"I'm an open book, miss...?"

 

[Story]

Underneath the prim and proper, Juniper was a mess. She lacked grace, was flat footed, disorganized, anxiety riddled, and had enough trust issues to keep a therapist happy for a long time. If only she didn’t think she was too good at managing her own crazy to go see one. In short, the demure blonde with her hoarfrost brows and gold rimmed glasses that weren’t glasses which popped into the vampire’s office … was the ultimate control freak.

Now, if only she could keep her hair in as much order as when she had first arrived in the club. Already, the wispy strands teased out of the bun she had pulled it back in, the tendrils waving in her face with as much nuisance as to leave the woman temporarily crosseyed and scowly as she pushed it and tucked it away until it fit behind her ears and she could dump herself down into a chair without much invitation from the man himself, unless one counted the make yourself at home comment.

She did. By sitting on the very edge of her seat as if she believed that the chair she had claimed for herself could very well be the home for other … unsavory things. Her back was straight, pert chin up, notebook settled in her lap.

And not a trace of humor on her face. Not even a twitch.

“I don’t dance,” she finally commented, dryly. Those pretty blue eyes of hers even narrowed on the smug look on his face.

...and then away as she turned her attention down to her notepad and scribbled a note.

Self-absorbed asshat.

She even underlined it with her ballpoint, dotted it hard, then turned her attention back on him. This time, she wore a chilling little smile on her face. “...So very charming, Mr. LaCroix. Tell me, how many humans are approved to know of your existence?”

Right to the chase. Her eyes narrowed again, but this time she looked cross at something else. Shifting in her seat, she cleared her throat.

“I am Juniper Claire. Please call me Ms. Claire -- or Inspector, since that is what I am. I won’t beat around the bush here, Mr. LaCroix, as I’m sure you already know what’s going on here. The council is investigating the murder of a human woman that is known to frequent your club and… most importantly, your company. I’m here to ask some questions. For the sake of this investigation, I advise that you answer truthfully.” One hand lifted, slender in nature, and tapped the delicate rims of her glasses.

Another smile. It was about as sweet as someone crunching on broken glass.

“These glasses tell me the truth. Everything you say will be translated into the truth, so you can try and twist your words, lie, make it pretty, play the victim … Mr. LaCroix, I’ve seen all the tricks and take this process with the utmost of seriousness. And I anticipate … you do not take much very seriously. Please, for the sake of the recently deceased, speak plainly and truthfully.”

Now that she had gotten her spiel out of way, he had her full attention. It was an intent look that she was focused on him, her face screwed up so seriously as she asked, “Were you sexually and or romantically involved with…” She flipped back through her notepad. “...Nina?” As she glanced back up at him.

 

[Vinaein]

One word came to Leon's mind as he saw this woman, one word and one word only: fastidious. the way her clothes were arranged, gold-rimmed glasses, neat blond hair. But there was something of a nervousness to her, an uptightness that reminded him of nothing less than a rather haughty librarian. Well, this could end up being enjoyable, he decided as he kept his eyes aside on her. Or perhaps, just perhaps, he had misjudged her. Her hair was not as neat as he had initially surmised. In fact, she seemed to be plucking at it, in a way that annoyed her.

Yep, maybe haughty was the right word. Leon was even a tough disappointed. Putting himself out for someone to find him and this was what showed up? He had been hoping for a hard-bitten, leather wearing, gun toting warrior who didn't play by anyone's rules. Instead, he got someone who looked like they should be yelling at a child for putting a book beginning with 'A' in the 'B' section.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, sure. But a LaCroix was never a beggar. He simply leaned back in his seat, his hands folded as he watched her with a charmingly disarming grin. "Juniper Claire. Miss Claire....no, it seems like a first name. too much like one, in fact. And Inspector? No, too formal. I'll call you..Juniper. Do your friends call you June? And you don't dance? Nonsense. Anyone can dance. Perhaps not well, but we offer lessons, too. Some of the ladies would love to show you the moves. And possibly a wardrobe upgrade!"

He decided to stop antagonizing her, his smile faltering a trace there as he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth, against his fangs. "Yes," he said quietly. "A woman, you said, no? Yes, she frequented the club. And my company. Lots of women do both, what's that about?" He settled back. He didn't plan to make this too simple, after all. A good inspector would know things, indeed. He needed to see she was up to snuff. "The funny thing about those advisories is they only work if you can back them up. I'm not under oath, I've got no penalty of perjury. You have my word to go on alone. And you are in my place of business."

She was sharp. Good, he decided as he kept his focus on her. "But, ask away. As I said, I'm an open book...what agency are you with?" He then ventured as he drummed his fingers upon the table. His smile was the equivalent of chocolate dipped in honey dusted with fine arsenic....

A smile that withered and died immediately. ""Nora Bellingham," his tone was frosty, suddenly surprised he had given as much away. He cursed internally. "We were....involved. At times. Not sure what business my boudoir is of yours." He met her eyes, as if daring her.

"If I'm a suspect? Say it. But at least get her name right."

 

[Story]

He was deflecting. Juniper didn’t need her special lenses to notice it. His tongue was doing all of the work for him, prattling on in too many words when he only needed a few to get his point across. While she had pale lashes downcast, her sights seemingly on the notebook, she was also paying him a closer amount of attention than she was letting on.

“No, you will call me Inspector or Ms. Claire,” she corrected him as he rolled variations of her name off his tongue, trying to get a rise out of her. When she didn’t even look up from whatever she was scribbling on her notepad.

But then her attention shot up when he mentioned dancing again, studying his face with a screwed up nose, “How frequently do you dance in your own club with humans?”

The key to what she did was not to give away much of what she already knew. What made her good at what she did was that she could roll to the beat of even the most difficult of them until they fidgeted too much and gave themselves away.

Mr. LaCroix was already on the cusp of fidgeting by trying to tease her into a different state than cool and collected - which meant that he was deflecting against mentioning something important. It was why she merely blinked prettily at him when he tried to shrug the woman off as if she were just another fling.

Until he didn’t.

That made her smile, finally. The frost in his voice, that is. She finally put the notebook down in her lap, ignoring it fully for once as her stare turned curious. And yet her tone was matter-of-fact as she said, “So you were close with her after all. Can you please tell me the last time that you saw her? The last time you were engaged in -- any kind of intimacy with her? Was she seeing anyone else romantically?”

The thing about it was -- Juniper hadn’t fumbled the name by accident. That had been an intentional slip and he had given her exactly what she needed. Breathing in, she leaned back in the chair to consider him.

“You aren’t a subject … yet. You are under review for a few different reasons by the council, Mr. LaCroix. I’m only here to take notes on the situation and present my findings to someone who will either pursue this further or deem you guilty enough of illegal acts that they take you in for judgement. So, if you have anything you would like to tell or show me, then it would be in your very best interest to be open and honest with me. Do you understand?”

 

[Vinaein]

"Love to meet you, Juniper," Leon said cheerfully. "If you don't like June, how about 'Nipper?' It sounds like it might fit you! No reason to be too formal. And of course I dance sometimes. what's the point of a club like this if you can't have some fun sometimes?" He shrugged and gestured about them, certain he was in control.

Until he wasn't.

In that instant, Leon LaCroix remembered the lessons of his father. The vampire head of House LaCroix had been an effective teacher in matters of politicking, who had always cautioned to only reveal emotions you wanted others to see. It had been almost a year since Leon had seen Lysander LaCroix, with the elder vampire spending time overseas and only communicating by phone, but Leon knew his lessons well. Which was why the younger vampire was now cursing himself so much, even as he exulted in it.

The woman, this Juniper Claire had actually and effectively baited him. He could have been angry about it, but she had discovered the weakness in Nora and exploited it. It was an amateur mistake, one any vampire would have sneered at him over. He could have been outraged, even humiliated, but after the passage of moments,, when it had taken time to settle in, something occurred to him in:

Juniper was exactly what he needed in this. The smile she exhibited was confidence in herself. Leon's expression was calm now, a deep breath rising in his chest and exhaled through his mouth. "We were close," he admitted after a moment. He fixed his eyes on her, his eyes glinting with an amber light as his confidence returned. "We were intimate on occasion, Inspector Nipper. No, she was not involved in seeing anyone else. She was a scholar first and foremost. We were friends, if you must know."

He clicked his tongue. "And how about you, Inspector? You seem fastidious, relaxed...perhaps a bit too eager to showcase your own talents in investigation and analysis. I'm going to wager that in the meantime, you seem to have difficulty being taken as seriously as you think you deserve by those around you. Your style of dress speaks to something fastidious, but with a few details missing. Your personality, to a degree, is calculated as a result." His grin grew, cocksure and arrogant as he attempted to get something back from earlier. "To be taken more seriously in a very difficult profession. It's a shame, really, you'd be more effective without the stick- " he paused, before he settled back in his seat.

"Nora frequented a number of magic circles," he said. "She was a scholar, favored some of the clubs...I tend not to give my competition much business, though...one of her favorites was Infernal Delights, along with Saint Sinner...there were several magic circles that met nearby as well, in a little book shop off main avenue....she never had trouble with the law, though. In fact, she was quite the connoisseur of rare books. I assume her affects were searched?" He pressed, though almost instinctively knowing the answer already.

"If you thought I was guilty, you wouldn't be here in my club. Alone. With me. In a soundproofed office." He smiled at her, coy now. "And you're analytical enough to see that, Inspector June...I do respect this prim and proper inspector business, but is your interest purely professional or do you desire justice?" He looked at her without a bit of humor now.

"Because I want justice for my friend. If you want to help me obtain it? Let us proceed."

 

[Story]

Juniper resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the man - vampire - once he came up with another colorful nickname to her. She even opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it. If she reacted to that, it would only encourage him further to try and turn the tables on her and get under her skin. She was quickly coming to realize that to correct him would only mean that he would press harder.

Still…

Inspector Nipper.

She couldn’t fight the frown that bloomed on her face, drawing a crease between her brows and pursing the pair of beestung lips out further than they already were just sitting on her face. Her lips were too big, she knew; they were too red for skin that was too fair. And she could never gain control over her hair. Not to mention her eyes were too whimsical despite their wide, almond shape; it made her look like she was ready to swoon or fall asleep. The young woman, behind the cool facade, was kind of a mess.

“...Mr. LaCroix, since you’ve admitted that you were so close to our hapless victim, I hope you can understand the important in providing me as much detail as you can about what you know of her. So instead of trying to get under my skin, which serves you no purpose at all, would you please drop the cocky vampire thing and help with this investigation? I’m here to be an unbiased third party; anything and everything about me personally is utterly irrelevant to securing justice for Ms. Bellingham. Any further deflections I’ll be putting down as a sign of guilt that you’re hiding something.”

The lines of her face had since smoothed back into a look of cool professionalism as she regarded him, though not even she could control the flush in her face. The curse of fair skin. At some point, she needed to remind herself to find a charm to hide it -- or at least find a charm to glamour a tan.

Then finally, he presented her with details that sparked her attention. Sitting up in her seat, she jotted down the names of the two clubs with interest, head bobbing as he spoke. “Very good, thank you. We’re aware that she was a witch -- at least a dabbler. We did go through her affects,” she affirmed, but provided no additional details other than that.

Because they had found a book on her person. Of course, she also was not about to reveal to him that they had plans to speak to the local coven leaders, including the Grand Magistar of them all to prod further into the case.

“I never said that you were guilty, Mr. LaCroix. As I’ve mentioned, my only interest is to gather information and present my findings to the council. If they find you guilty of anything, it will be because you are. Unlike you, it seems, I take this job very seriously … and I’m not one who likes to put blame on innocents until they are found guilty,” she retorted, voice tart as she peeked at him from over the rims of her glasses.

“As for being alone with you. If you were dangerous, then I can assure you, I’m capable of handling myself. Now, tell me more of these clubs that your friend frequented. And what you know of the magic she was practicing. And other ... friends she was in contact with.”

 

[Vinaein]

Leon respected the woman before him already. Not just anyone could have baited him in such a manner. Few could even have found the courage to do so, with his pedigree, with his reputation and being stuck alone in a room with him. One Miss Juniper Claire had done just that, in ways she must have banked on him finding unpleasant. Yet she had done it anyways. He had been prepared, so he'd thought, but this had caught him quite off guard. Well, he thought, so be it. Sometimes providence provided when one least expected it as his father liked to say.

Still, he couldn't help but be a touch of a brat. Perhaps calling her 'Inspector Nipper' was immature. Okay, it was definitely immature. The knitting of her brows and the downturn of her mouth coupled with the opening of her lips told him he might have hit a nerve. To Juniper Claire (Or Inspector Nipper), though, this was apparently just a minor tribulation to overcome. Leon could admit he had a tendency to be a touch more acerbic than was sometimes necessary. Or, to put it in a simpler manner? He could be a bit of a pain in the ass.

He knew this. He admitted it. It was fine. absolutely fine. He was a gem the other times, really and truly. At the imploring of the woman before him however, he leaned over his desk, folding his hands as he kept his eyes on Juniper's own. He pressed his fingertips together, losing the cocky smile, suddenly garnering a serious expression. Her face was slightly flushed, he could tell not just from the coloration of her skin but the rush of blood there that made his fangs stir within his gums. She was pale, he thought, almost unusually so. And he thought he looked like he hadn't gotten any sun in a while...

"Figured as much," he muttered, trying not to be annoyed at them rifling through Nora's personal affects like magic little vultures. "Even her journal?" He asked hesitantly, lifting his eyebrow. "Even her books...? She had quite a few, some more valuable than others...." He kept his eyes upon hers, trying to gauge what he knew. "If you know so much already...." he trailed off and shrugged. "The other clubs...they're hangouts. Some are places to dance. Or for deals to get done, pacts to be signed. Some are places for blood and magic junkies and some are....a bit more hardcore than others. Probably not the type you'd like..." he grinned at her saying she could handle herself...hell, she probably could. She had a formidable air about her, and certainly an inquisitive one. "How long have you been on this job? Long enough to work a high profile murder investigation? Tell me something...did they find a book on her person...? Not just her journal, but..." His hand crept towards his drawer...

Since within it was a twin to the book that Nora had once shown him, before asking him to take the other for safekeeping. "I don't know much about her other contacts..." he admitted. "Or friends. Nora wasn't forthcoming on magical work all the time beyond theory in the abstract when we were together..." He studied her close, wondering what Juniper had put together...something about her scent was oddly enticing, not like other humans at all.

"Granted, some of those clubs were known to be frequented by beings of ill repute. I did caution friends about going there alone. Not just Nora...but as far as I can tell, she was in a hotel when she died." He leaned back in the seat. "I know I'm a suspect, don't take me for an idiot by hiding that. When you went through her things...if you didn't miss details, what did you find for books?" He wanted to be sure before he opened that drawer. "

Time to see what Inspector Nipper had going for her...

 

[Story]

There was something that was at war on her face as she watched him through the lenses of her spelled glasses, a truth that was unfolding as he spoke. Like many old things - or beings that had too much time on their hands - he was still playing games with his words, or tried to. Sometimes she felt that it was habit, especially among the very old, where language became an encryption and the rest of the world was supposed to decipher it.

Juniper had never been very good at the complexities of people. Even monsters disguised as people. She enjoyed having everything laid out for her, explained in detail, kept in the form of meticulous notes.

But she also enjoyed a puzzle. It exercised the mind to unravel intent.

Now what she had to decipher was whether or not his own line of questioning was to deflect from something that he had done or something else. He hadn’t lied, yet - the glasses would have notified her if he had, or was trying to be deceitful - so she was forced to acknowledge that his train of thought was going somewhere.

She raised up her pen, chewed at the end as a nervous habit as she debated with herself as to how much she should be revealing to him when she hadn’t yet uncovered much about him. Finally, she sighed, eyes rolling towards the ceiling and her hand dropping back down to her notebook.

“Ms. Bellingham was in possession of a few books that were stolen from the forbidden archives. One was a book of summoning. While summoning isn’t strictly forbidden by the council or covens, the sort of summoning that this book is capable of is … bad.” Her nose, pert little thing that it was, wrinkled on her face. “The book can open the way to other realms that aren’t sanctioned to be opened without a proper Gatekeeper -- and right now there are only two of those in existence. The other book has the ability to take a soul from someone or something and lock it away in something else.”

Her tone dropped with her final sentence, her shoulders straightening, hands suddenly fidgety. “...The last person to possess the book released the spirit that was caught within its pages. And, ah… not such a nice spirit. It caused quite a mess. We believe she is involved with a rogue coven, Mr. LaCroix, so now is your time to be frank. Were you aware of her involvement and were you involved as well?”

She settled back down in her hair, let him mull over that, while she thought about the other clubs that he listed off. Back to chewing the end of her pen, too. Her eyes had that glazed, thoughtful look in them as she mulled over her thoughts.

“...We will need to visit these clubs. If Ms. Bellingham was frequenting them and had become an addict, that might be a better explanation for her death,” she said to the air, before snapping her attention back on him with a wicked sort of smile. “But you do ask a lot of questions about books to not be a suspicion, Mr. LaCroix. I don’t believe that you are guilty of draining your friend dry - but I am starting to suspect other things.”

She stood up, arching a brow at him, and even thought about extending her hand in a handshake. “Do you have anything else that you would like to tell me before I leave? Not that you won’t see me again; I’ll have follow up questions.”

 

[Vinaein]

Leon's hand hovered near the drawer as he examined this strange and bewitching woman before him. She didn't look like she had many years on her and by vampire pure-blood standards, neither did he. Still, her youth provided an advantage for him. Under all his bluster and bravado, Leon was not a fool. He could notice details and he combined that with education and what passed for experience. He also, though he didn't like this as well known, lacked the customary vicious ruthlessness in dealing with potential threats. One of the other Houses might have decided to mark Juniper for death in an 'accident' had she spoken to a member thusly.

But for Leon? No, he was now calculating behind his eyes. Despite the details of her appearance being askew in places, Juniper Claire's fastidious and analytical nature lent to an impression of careful analysis, a mind that could process information and connect dots. Youth was frankly irrelevant to that. In fact, her young age only impressed him all the more now, with the implications that she had proven herself before. Especially, he thought, if she was to be involved in a high-stakes murder investigation.

He did take notice of her chewing on the pen. Was that a nervous tic, or was it designed to create a false sense of vulnerability? He didn't know and that actually excited him. "Stolen?" Now he was genuinely surprised. "Nora was no thief," he said curtly. "She once panicked over taking a stick of gum out of a store she forgot to pay for. The notion she would be involved in stealing forbidden, dangerous lore? She was too knowledgeable for that." He opened the drawer. "does the book look anything like this?"

He removed a bound-leather volume, setting the dusty old thing upon the desk with a light 'thump.' The book was inked in red over its surface, with runes upon the black over, no language that a human being had perhaps ever spoken in any of its myriad nations. Inside, the words were equally unintelligible. "Nora was also a Cipher," he said. "She enjoyed translation and decryption...she had studied things...and gave me this for safekeeping, Inspector..." He heard the words of a 'rogue spirit.'

"A rogue spirit...no exorcist available for it?" He asked evenly. "I was only involved in holding on to things for safekeeping, Inspector Claire. Little else." Now he was offering respect to her ability in investigation, not bothering to try any sarcasm or playfulness. "The bookshop...she'd mentioned some bookseller or librarian she talked about it with...I don't know the name." He settled back in his seat, the smile growing pleasant on his face.

"Now that did sound accusatory..." he said quietly. "What might you be accusing me of guilt of? Except of creating quite an unnecessary pain in your backside? Is that punishable under any statute I am not aware of...?" He rose suddenly to his feet. "If you're dealing with an unleashed spirit from some book and you mean to inspect these clubs..." he grinned now.

"They're not as forthcoming as I am. Why, Inspector Claire, I doubt you'd know what you might be walking in to. I insist I escort you. It would be considerably more exciting than sitting here, waiting for news."

Not that he could simply sit back and wait, he decided...

 

[Story]

Juniper had glanced up at him just long enough to answer to his surprise. She didn’t look too surprised by his own, just the same, “Whether she knew the book was stolen or not, it was most certainly stolen. One of the many things that needs to be figured out, don’t you agree?”

Only now she was more intrigued by this case than she had previously. There were layers to it than a normal human woman getting drained by a vampire. While Juniper was quickly angling her case away from the young LaCroix vampire being the culprit, there was no doubt that this Nora had been involved with additional unsavory characters.

Besides, from the background she knew from Leon’s family, they would have covered up the murder more meticulously if he had been the one to drain the poor woman.

Bending forward to get a better look at the book that he had pulled from his desk, she reached out to scoop it up before he could protest to anything and studied it with a hard frown. It only deepened, furrowing her brows, as she flipped it open.

“Where did you say you got this book…?” Her gaze shot back up to the vampire, looking at him with more interest than she had been. Though not necessarily the good kind of interest. “Tell me the name of this bookshop,” she snapped, not asking the question for once. Indeed, the Inspector had turned the dial on her seriousness to its maximum level.

So by the time she stood, she had tucked his book underneath her arm, and by the set expression in her face, she wasn’t about to hand it back over. Instead, she said in a halting voice, “I will need to consult with another expert. The Syndicate will need to be involved to some extent. I already know who I’m going to contract; she’s trustworthy.”

So matter of fact. Despite the strained edge that had entered her voice.

“As for what you are guilty of, Mr. LaCroix, I do not know. But I don’t entirely trust your flippant air; it sounds like you are hiding something, is all. A playboy, irresponsible vampire that you are painted as does not fit the description of someone who seems to have more information on forbidden things than you are letting on…”

She leveled her stare at him, blue eyes icy. “And I don’t need escorting. I know what to expect from these unsavory places,” she insisted stubbornly. “Besides, I would feel better if I knew where you were - and that was here,” she stated firmly, already turning on her heel to walk out the door.

 

[Vinaein]

"Inspector Juniper," Leon's voice now carried no trace of humor. "I can assure you. Nora's faults were extant indeed, but one thing she wasn't was a thief. She did not steal books, no matter how rare or seemingly valuable....as you say, it is one of many things here that needs to be figured out." Leon was beginning to feel like he was observing a massive jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were scattered, missing, while he made vain attempts to assemble the puzzle from what he had. Inspector Nipper here was fighting much the same.

But Leon could tell that in solitary it would be a losing battle for the both of them. She was transparently unprepared to go where she needed to. "I knew members of her social circle as well. No offense when I say this, but they make you look like a positively uninhibited party beast." He paused a moment to see if he had offended her. "I would be shocked if any of them could murder anything other than a cup of tea." He almost mimicked a British accent at that, thought better of it and quieted down.

But when he removed the book, her shocked reaction told him everything he needed to know. The way she all but dove for it, where he placed it within her hands, the look on her face. "Nora and I acquired it," he said, watching her run it over in her hands. "For safekeeping. And safe it will continue to be kept until I know I can trust you here... It was from, oh where was it..." He pursed his lips, considering it for a moment. "Calliope's Delights. Independent little bookshop, funny fellow as the bookseller, eccentric owners. You know. The works."

He noted how she tucked the book away. "Oh, and what expert might this be?" If he cared about the Syndicate's involvement, Leon certainly hid it well for the moment. As for escorting...?" He suddenly moved, took the book and plucked it back. "I am honoring a promise, one. Oh, don't worry, it won't be leaving you, I know that. We'll be going together...since, obviously, you may not need an escort, but you sure as hell need a cultural expert. Look at you..." he gestured to her. "You're dressed like you're meeting a pupil's parents for a teacher conference or attending a book club! You're wholly unprepared to hit a club, Inspector Nipper.

"What you want is of slight import to me," he added with a grin. "So while you would prefer me here, I insist I remain where you can keep the closest eye on me and I keep trouble away from you..." he raised the book. "And I'll hold on to this in the meanwhile. I have as much interest as you...partner." He added the last not quite intending to be mocking.

But. Well...maybe it came out that way.

 

[Story]

The sound of his voice stopped her in her tracks. He had dropped his smarty pants act, replaced by the silky smooth tones that she recognized as pure vampire. It was like a pin dropping in cold water, sending a ripple down her spine. Adjusting both book and notepad in her arms, she flashed a glance over her shoulder at him, brow raised.

She was getting good at the raised eyebrows. She was also smiling in a way that could cut glass again, all sharp angles and painful humor.

“I know you would like to believe this, Mr. LaCroix, but as an unbiased opinion here - the people that you think you know the most … surprise you,” she said primly, turning away with a subtle enough flinch. All right, perhaps not so unbiased after all. The words were too colored from a past experience, but they were true nonetheless.

Her nose wrinkled once he mentioned that she looked like a party animal. Casting her attention down to her rumpled blouse tucked into her slacks and briefly straightening the jacket she wore, she then rolled her eyes back up to his face. “...Perhaps I was going for a party beast look,” she offered. So, she wasn’t completely without humor, even if it only twitched on her face briefly before she schooled herself. “And I’ll be paying a visit to Calliope’s Delights as well,” she added. Her notebook was already tucked away, so she would have to remember the name.

She finally had her hand on the door to let herself out when he moved, plucking the book from her grasp, and earning a shifty eyed stare from the young woman -- who was none too pleased by the fact that she had to push her chin up in order to meet his gaze now. After a short amount of consideration, she sighed, exasperated, and finally pushed her way from this office, clicking her fingers behind her to indicate that he should follow.

“Fine,” she admitted, the reluctance clear in her voice. But mostly because she was getting the impression that Leon LaCroix wasn’t going to leave her alone unless he could trail along like a blood...hound. And - well - there was the fact that he was right. Juniper didn’t know the first thing about clubs, except that they usually consisted of dancing, drinking, and hedonism. All practices she had sworn out of existence in exchange for dignity and professionalism.

She couldn’t even remember the last time that she’d had a real drink.

“You can navigate us to this place,” she instructed as the rush of noise met her head on once they had stepped back out into the club. The bass pulsed in her ears along with her pulse and the lights that scattered across the floor distracted her. Gritting her teeth, she shot him a look. “But I don’t intend on staying for long. Just enough to scope the place and see if there is anyone there who might be helpful,” she warned.

 

[Vinaein]

Leon was flashing quite the smile as he plucked the book from her grasp. Not with fangs, that might seem like he was try to intimidate her. It would just be ever so rude, would it not? So instead he held up the book, waiting for her to acknowledge he was correct. He was pulling the velvet away from the ice, appearing in his true guise; haughty, but intelligent and subtle, with gleaming eyes that missed not a thing before him- or so he wished for the onlooker to believe. He made no comment on 'Party Beast,' save to open a filing cabinet within his mind and tuck away a notice that read 'Inspector Nipper wants for humor.'

When he had removed the book, her weak admission of 'fine' barely registered. Leo was already moving down the hallway after, of course, cordially holding the door for a guest. But for a moment, as they traced their way down that hallway, his voice quavered, a somber note creeping in that interrupted the symphony of sarcasm he had presented her with before: "My friend is dead. You will not leave me behind on it." It was so soft, he himself doubted he even intended it to ever reach another's ears.

He opened the door, pretending he didn't hear Juniper's admission. Or was it an order? With her, he was learning that ice-sharp tongue of hers could blur the line when it came to human rhetoric, a prospect that made him smirk to himself as they stepped into the pulsing landscape of the club. Leo barely paid attention, only offering a hand signal to one of the executives, who instantly understood. He also gestured to Juniper, mouthing 'wardrobe' there, before he made certain the inspector was following him outside.

The night was cool and crisp now, moon overheard as they departed the chaos. He hadn't said much since he doubted her poor human ears could have made him out over the music. But outside, the music was a low hum and memory, the valet recognizing him immediately. "Oh, Mr. LaCroix- "

"Car, please," Leon said with a grin. "Tip for you in it. Just make sure she's not scratched, okay?" He winked as the valet scrambled to obey leaving the two to wait upon the pavement. "Shouldn't be long," he turned to face Juniper. "I'll do the driving. We should be arriving in style so we're undercover, A, and two..." A man was emerging from the club, carrying a box. Leon accepted it with a "thanks, Freddie," passed him a hundred and held it to Juniper. "And this would be far more a delightful 'Party Beast' look if it doesn't insult the librarian aesthetic you have...and believe you me, I don't want us there any longer than we need to be. But we should look the part. Thankfully for me, I already do." He turned at the screech of tires.

Their ride had arrived.

 

[Story]

Juniper knew that it was a mistake to let the man - vampire, she reminded herself - come with her to any other venues. She still felt as if she were still at square one, puzzling over the mystery of this woman, and hoped that one of her old haunts would give them an easy out instead of burying them deeper. Finding out that a rogue vampire had drained her after getting a little too excited at a club was one thing and was easy on the paperwork; the mystery of the stolen books were another entirely.

She was in the middle of the longest eye roll of her entire career as they wandered down the hallway when the sound of his voice - or really, the note in his voice - dragged her attention up and over her shoulder at him. Her signature brow furrow followed. After a too long hesitation, she eventually reached up, fingertips patting his shoulder awkwardly. There, there.

“You didn’t do it. And … I understand,” she admitted, sounding almost human. But then her hand was dropping back down and her shoulders straightened as they wound their way back through the chaos of his club. Juniper could practically feel her teeth grinding in her hurry to feel fresh air on her face.

So imagine her disappointment when her face was splashed with the smell of asphalt and humanity when the breeze ruffled her blouse, tangled in her hair so the pale wisps teased her cheeks and floated in front of her eyes with enough ambient annoyance that she was clawing it all away to tuck behind her ears.

“We are taking my car--” She started her protest as soon as they were outside, her petite frame whirling to face him when he gestured for the valet. “And I’ve parked it…” She trailed off uselessly, ending the sentence with a haughty glower at him. “You are not driving,” she snapped at him. “I agreed to let you come with me, Mr. LaCroix, but I have no intention of being … associated with you and your ... vampire antics.”

Could she sound more stuffy? She turned her nose up even more, her actual anger a chilling thing that sparked through her eyes as she pivoted on her heel to watch the man emerge from the club carrying his box.

She stared at him, glanced back up at Leon, then frowned enough that it was really a pout. Jutting lower lip and all. Though the woman did have the kind of beestung lips that were almost over full -- and the pink was not lipstick.

“What is this?” Eventually, she did take the box, frowning - no, pouting - the entire time. The notebook shifted underneath her arm as she took a peek inside. “Where did you get this, is probably the better question. I am not wearing someone else’s clothes.”

Thou dost protest too much. She snapped the lid closed, tucked the box under her other arm in exasperation, then turned in time to see what kind of vehicle the lunatic drove.

 

[Vinaein]

Leon was trying to make this as easy on Juniper as possible, but he was growing to understand quite quickly that while she may have been dynamite at analyzing the facts, her street smarts left a little to be desired. But who was he to judge? Leon knew if he had been more adept with this whole affair, if he had noticed more, perhaps Nora might still be alive. He expected more of a fight, before he heard:

"You didn't do it...and I understand."

That made him go silent, turning his face from her so she couldn't see him. He let in a breath, filling his lungs and forgetting his father's lessons of calm and caution. He exhaled, a breeze past his fangs, managing to whisper something, just two words so quiet as to be barely audible: "thank you." But once it was said, the tiny crack in the walls was repaired to allow the veneer of affable arrogance to reign once again.

"Vampire antics, it's a car! I do my antics outside the vehicle, thank you very much! No, my dear Inspector, if we are arriving at such a high scale place of decadent delight, then we are to arrive only in style." Leon waved a hand. "Besides, I doubt you've ever been in such an automobile!" He added as the tires screeched, the valet evidently having a great deal of fun driving the Cobra for a moment. So much of Leon was assumed, so much a carefully cultivated act.

But he'd be damned if he didn't love this car. Vintage, paid for by his own labor, with him knowing just how to keep it running from many hours learning mechanics and engineering. One might not even have recognized him to see him soaked in grease and oil. Nora had always teased he looked better like that, in fact, which made him attempt to smile all the wider. "We will be taking my car, as we are using my recognition to get into the clubs. As for the clothes, this is brand new. I simply had them size you up and we have plenty in stock. You can show up looking like someone who blends into the background of the place you're investigating, or you can mark yourself."

Within was a rather attractive outfit in black, complete with dark heels and a choker, Leon giving the valet a generous tip as he got inside the car, sighing in relief to feel his precious girl purring to feel him back in the vintage leather seat. "Yes, yes, I missed you, too...be nice to the new passenger..." he said as he made sure the door was unlocked....and once Juniper was in, he gave a very fair warning: "I drive fast, buckle up."

He let that sink in before his foot pressed down on the pedal, sending them roaring off. "Calliope's is owned by an incubus, be ready for such debauchery about you and to not let it show that it gets to you." He pulled down the street, speeding up to just go through an intersection as the last traces of yellow prepared to give way to green.

"And...thank you. For letting me come along, Inspector..." His voice was solemn for just a moment before he tried to perk up. "Oh, how rude of me. You want the radio on? Any music you like? "

 

[Story]

“It’s... an antique,” was all that Juniper could manage when the car pulled into view in a screech of show and burnt rubber. The poor woman looked lost - or as if she were already trying to plot her escape - when the valet left her alone with the vampire and his street project. He was right, however, in that she had never been inside this kind of automobile before. Juniper preferred safe, sensible sedans like the little used Buick she had driven here.

She approached the car as if the hood might pop open and swallow her whole, then shot him a begrudging look from beneath pale lashes. Fumbling her notebook and the box of clothes under one arm, she opened the passenger side door and reluctantly climbed inside after him.

“You make a good point…” she barely had time to admit to him before he took off in another squeal of tires. She hadn’t even had time to put on her seat belt, so the sudden jolt of forward momentum caused her to drop both her notes and the box as she struggled to hold on for dear life.

Shooting a death glare, her hands scrambled to strap herself into his death mobile as the clothes spilled across the floorboard. She kept the sour expression on her face as her body strained forward to scoop up the little nothing dress that she held up.

“And how, may I ask, did you size me up and conveniently have a dress…” She dragged the little black number close and checked the tags. “...in my size…” She shot him a startled look, then tossed the dress to the side as she bent double to scoop up the shoes. “And the shoe size…” Her lips pursed into a thin line, only they were too full to really be considered a line.

“Also, where am I supposed to… change into… this ridiculous costume?” She finally straightened up, only to gawk at him from her seat, ignoring his inquiry about music tastes.

 

[Vinaein]

"Antique...see, one of the benefits to being a wealthy vampire?" Leon began in response to Juniper's seeming befuddlement, suddenly feeling incredibly confident in his possession. "Being able to afford one or two simply wonderful possessions. In this case, I love my car. I absolutely adore her, in fact. She's one of my prize possessions....not only do I own her, I work on it myself. Being a LaCroix, you get used to having all your needs cared for." He even sounded a trace bitter at that, a frustrated note seeping into voice. "Even when it comes to trouble with the law. I know, awful, isn't it? But...it's one thing I can take care of myself. One thing I can handle myself. Without anyone trying to do it for me..."

Perhaps he had let more spill out than he had intended. the wistful expression in his eyes imperceptible, even before he donned his mask back again, grinning suddenly with a rueful, dancing look in his eyes. "I always make good points, whether they're acknowledged or not!" He said with his foot pushing the pedal to the floor, the car roaring across the city. And what a city it was, this urban jungle; the club was in one of the most upscale neighborhoods, with towering buildings and high tech regions built throughout..

"Me? Perish the thought, Inspector. I played no part in sizing you up. I pay people to do that for me. We employ those able to guess that with a glance. And it's not like you're hiding altogether much. No offense," he added hastily as he leaned back in the driver's seat, very much the slacker archetype with his hands upon the wheel. "Plus we keep tons of outfits, never know when you might need one! I hope it meets with your chosen aesthetic, of course!" His voice carried a new whimsy now.

"After all, I think you'd rock it! Imagine you in heels, in black, combine with your glasses, Inspector Nipper? I'll pull over at...oh, an alleyway? a station? You can change here, I assure you it's nothing I haven't seen before. Surely a great inspector isn't self conscious?" He turned the corner, cutting the wheel with a sudden spin. "I have no ill designs on you, inspector," he added as they passed a street covered in flashing neon lights. "How did you end up as an inspector anyways? Don't mind me being friendly with this, do you, Juniper? If we're working together? I'm shallow and foolish, you're not. So do tell, what is your deal? What has you so interested in the pursuit of justice? Nora...Nora would have liked you, I think. She liked justice. It was more than just a word to her."

He paused as he saw Calliope's Dreams ahead. It was a large place, flashing in pure red neon. Leon knew what that sign meant. "Inspector Ni-...Juniper. When we go in...it'sgoing to be another world. I need you to be prepared for this," he said quietly. "....Stay close to me so you'll be safe."

 

[Story]

He talked too much. She wasn’t sure at this point if it was because it was a defense mechanism of some sort of if he just liked the sound of his own voice. At least now that she was strapped safely into the metal contraption that he called a car and she would now refer to as a death trap that pulled her brows up for her and prevented her eyeballs from rolling around in their sockets.

So while he loved his car, she hated it.

Hated it.

“How very privileged of you,” was her only reply, uttered into the wind that hit them at full speed as he no doubt broke several traffic violations as they sped through the night. Juniper herself had a little orphan Annie story -- which even to her sounded too cliche to bother with explaining. Only instead of being invited to live inside a fabulous mansion, she had to carve her way with perseverance and wits and very little else.

For what it was worth, she had carved out a comfortable living for herself. As a witch. In a way, she had a decent government job -- of the supernatural order. If she hadn’t been concentrating so hard on keeping her belongings inside the car, she might have snickered to herself.

Only the vampire entitlement story was still yammering on and her attention was a head turn in his direction to watch him with slitted eyes, lips pursed again into that tight line that couldn’t quite manage a … line. “How … charming of you to offer to pull over in an alley,” she snapped, the color rising into her face.

Judging by her expression, it had less to do than potentially losing her modesty, but anger instead. He might even be able to hear her grind her teeth. He was a vampire, after all, and most likely prone to exceptional hearing. As soon as she ducked her head away from him, however, she did toss a glance down at herself with a frown before looking at him again. Him and his questions.

“Are you … in mourning or do you always talk so much, ask all these questions? And it’s Inspector Claire,” she managed to growl out, flustered with his push and pull on her title. “But if you must know something, know that I enjoy order. I enjoy everything in their right place.”

Said the bitch inside her. There was more to it than simply that, but she wasn’t in a mood to go over any kind of sop story with the insufferable man. It was none of his business, after all. They were there for work and not to play friends.

“If I have to put on this ridiculous outside that someone somehow managed to size up for me - which, is beyond a breach in privacy, by the way - I’m going to insist on some privacy. Please,” she added the please for good measure. So she wouldn’t come across as rude. While she made her demands, her eyes flickered to the newest neon sign that flashed ahead, nerves riding inside her stomach. Absently, she hugged the box with the dress and ensemble stuffed back inside it and fidgeted.

 

[Vinaein]

Leon was enjoying the drive. With the music on, albeit low enough that he could still hear them talk, a good rock and roll song...he didn't think his companion was enjoying it as much as he did. Probably no firm love for fast driving and living on the wild side, he considered. How tragic, honestly. The car had pulled across several lights just before they could turn red so he was not technically in violation of any traffic laws. Even nicer with the hood down and the wind rushing through their hair.

"Privileged indeed. I'm Leon LaCroix, Inspector. Know what that means?" He threw her a grin. "It means I don't have a single care on the planet. Not. One. It means I snap my fingers and there's an army of people waiting to take care of it for me. It means I don't have to worry about a damn thing. If that ain't privilege I don't know what is." Even as he said it, his lips curved downward into a frown. The edge of his voice, which he hoped the music would mask, betrayed a true feeling of deep contempt and frustration at the prospect,. "Not a damn worry or care in the world. Even if you're a murder suspect. Hell of a thing when they teach you about responsibility, isn't it?" Growing up in a fabulous mansion, a wealthy family, never having to fear...

Well, it seemed more real now, didn't it? Not that he had the courage to renounce it either way. "You look like you've done well for yourself, though. Lemme guess...came up from nothing, worked for all you have, highly protective of your status? Hot or cold?" He asked as he cut the wheel to the side of the road. "Look, you need to get changed somewhere, don't you? Not many department shops open right now and an alleyway is secluded! I'd keep a watch out...not on YOU, but I'd keep it out! And I always talk plenty, mourning or not, thank you very much."

The notion about enjoying order made him grin to himself all the more, trying not to think of his dead friend. "See, but Inspector CLAIRE may make me confused, it's so close to a good first name, y'know. Juniper sounds so much more formal, and 'Nipper,' well...it's pretty sweet, even you have to confess." He cut the wheel to arrive near to the club, parking, even with them in a short walking distance away. "How about this...I'll get out of the car, turn my back and keep an eye out. You get changed, I turn back around, I give an obligatory comment how ravishing you are and we walk into that club and paint the town red?" He turned the keys in the ignition, the neon glow of Calliope's Dreams being cast out over them. "Or you go in looking like a stuffy librarian who's there to investigate them and we get laughed out of the place before we can get anything done. In my humble opinion, Inspector Claire, it's one or the other. I'm a careless rake but I sure as hell know about social norms when tea's not being served."

He stepped out, taking a step forward to the club. "Choice is yours when you're ready to party."

 

[Story]

Well, this was certainly a night that Juniper was not going to forget. Her brain was already crawling by his incessant prattle and she was surprised her tongue wasn’t bleeding yet from her having to bite back any additional remarks that she had about him. Except the one that she blurted, unable to help herself, blue eyes flashing as the wispy pale hair slapped her in the face.

“You are fucking full of yourself,” she snapped. Dropped an f-bomb that seemed unlike and yet very much like her. “And that’s not a compliment.”

She despised the privileged and wealthy, though that was laden with accusations she had received from just those privileged enough to have the audacity to tell her that it was because she was jealous. It was also why she laughed - which wound up being more or less a dry bark - when he suggested that she was doing well for herself as well.

“You can think whatever you like. This is not a social call; this is work. So I’ll dress in these clothes and stomp around this club if it means getting the job done. Then, I will say, I will look forward to ending out acquaintance and move on from this night. Once I have a report, you’ll be meeting with someone… else,” she snapped, her voice clipped. Once she could turn in the necessary paperwork, she was looking forward to handing this man off to the next sucker for him to babble at.

Shooting him an overburdened look, she had her hand already on the handle of the door when he pulled up on the curb. The car barely had a chance to squeal to a halt by the time she was pushing the door open so that she could step out into the night. She left her notebook behind, tucked underneath a seat, but she gathered the box of garments in her arms while also wearing the darkest scowl as she crept into a dark nook.

Changing in an alley was not her idea of a good time. It was disgusting. She could smell the stench of humanity and garbage even though she kept closer to the street than was comfortable. Any deeper and she might have a run in with someone who wanted to rob her or worse.

Glancing back the way she came with the frustrating building more in her throat, she made quick work of plucking her work clothes off and wrangling the dress over her head and tugging it down hard. The heels she wasn’t ready to wrangle yet.

Harried, she folded her old clothes into the box and stepped out of the alleyway fast, the dark scowl deepening on her face and turning her eyes stormy.

Unfortunately, Juniper still looked like a mess. The scoop of the little black number wasn’t accommodating to the cream of the sensible bra she had been wearing under her blouse. Her hair had been tossed by the car and the overall tussle she had had trying to get out of her business attire and into the dress. Not to mention the dress itself she was still fussing with to slide it the rest of the way down her hips while still clutching the dress box under her arm with the heels in the other.

Overall, the woman looked miserable with this decision already.

 

[Vinaein]

"I'm full of a lot of things. Myself is just a small part of that-...did you just swear?" Now the vampire looked impressed, giving a firm nod. "Well, well, Inspector Claire. That's what I call mettle from you," he said. Maybe he was laying this on a bit thick. Juniper was clearly unnerved, rattled even. He shouldn't be too hard on her as a way to get away from his own frustrations. She deserved a damn sight better, he decided for a moment. "I'm full of plenty, I mean. You might even grow to like some of it. Compliment intended or no, I'll happily take it that way, thank ya very kindly!"

He was getting the feeling she didn't like him very much. Which was a shame. He was bad at expressing it, but he was respecting her all the more now. The sound of her brittle laughter made his eyebrow lift a touch, tongue clicking between his sharpened fangs before he shrugged. "Well. Just trying to be friendly. Social call or not, work didn't have to be...well...work. What would he know of work, though? He had the idea it could be friendly, but he'd never had to work. Even the club had been given to him. "...It means getting the job done. It might mean saving someone else's life," he said softly. "....Look, Inspector Claire. Juniper. I'm not pretending I'm blue collar or anything. I know I barely deserve any of what I've got to begin with. Y'know, just happened to born in the right....forget it. It sounds stupid when I say it....just know this: I want to see what happened with my friend. And who killed her. I want to see that answered for."

He kept his back on her as she changed. "Look, I'm sorry about the accommodations now!" He called. "But I'm looking out for you." Nobody would come across her in the alleyway to harm her. Nobody would get that done on his watch. He waited until she emerged and turned, pausing. He had expected to say something nice, that Juniper looked like a whole new woman from her change of clothes, that she was sensual and provocative and alluring. He couldn't. He had absolutely no way to do so. Juniper looked ill-fitting, poorly put at ease and frankly miserable. He didn't compliment her or insult her, just watching for a moment as he tried to think of what he could say. "Let's...get this over with, okay?" He made it as gentle as he possibly could.

"You look...fine. Don't worry. You'll fit in." He left the car at the spot, walking to the neon, musical entrance of Calliope's dreams. The muscled doorman took a look at them, recognizing Leon on the spot with a nod of his shaven head. And thus did the door open. The music was loud, pulsing like a living thing all about them. People were dancing in strobing, multicolored lights, Leon looking around and keeping Juniper by him as he led her into the club. "Stay with me, Juniper," he did not dare say 'Inspector,' not here. "Do not lose me." He took her hand, holding firmly as they went deeper into the den of debauchery...

And within, the dancing had taken a different turn. People were dressed in all manner of styles, from black leather, to latex and silks. There was a stage, several individuals moaning as they were lashed...and there were others, nonhuman, who held on to others there...the VIP lounge, Leon thought as he saw the doors, the interior almost shaped like a Grecian temple.

Humans were moaning, some held by succubi and incubi who happily leeched the energy from them as bodies gyrated and ground together near them. And others were in the grasp of their vampiric patrons, fangs set within pale necks, wrists, even inner thighs...

Acting like nothing was amiss, Leon brought Juniper along to the lounge, beckoning her to sit alongside him as he caught the attention of a barman. "Tell Pandora we're here."

 

[Story]

To be perfectly fair, Juniper didn’t like much of anyone. Her own set of flaws worked against her; she had no close friends, no family, and she was the epitome of self-isolation and compartmentalization. And she preferred it that way. It was in the way she refused to speak of herself, it was in the way she guarded herself from others.

She liked to say she was fine with that.

It was why she had said, “I know you want to find out what happened to your friend. So do I,” and then left it at that.

She was flowering at him from underneath the pair of hoarfrost lashes as she stalked past him to toss her clothing into the front seat of his car, though she seemed at a loss as to whether or not she should really put the heels on or not. She cast a desperate look over her shoulder at the flashing red neon sign, chewed at her lower lip, then finally made the decision to slip off her comfortable flats and push the heels onto her feet.

If he thought that she looked uncomfortable emerging from the alley, she looked even more uncomfortable when she stood teetering in the pair of strappy heels that were only staying put from the straps around her ankles. The final motion was to pull the gold rimmed glasses from her face and hold them out, looking at them as if she were about to lose a limb. She hesitated a moment longer, then put them back onto her face and shoved them up the bridge of her nose before turning to face him again, frowning.

After that, she tried her best to tuck her bra straps down so that they were harder to see, then adjust the bodice of her dress as it clung to her chest, all the while hobbling after him as he approached the bouncer. Distracted as she was, she barely offered him a glance as she continued to pluck at herself until the music clapped her in the face.

She couldn’t hide her distaste, though she did struggle with her expression, as she glanced up to take in the scene. She found her control over her facial expression, only to have it bleed into horror as she caught sight of what was happening on the stage.

“Really, and you don’t think that your Nora would be the type to steal a forbidden book,” she huffed. The judgement was there, his feelings aside, and as soon as he took her hand, she pulled it right back and urged her feet to keep up with his strides even if she came close to stumbling over herself a couple of times and snapping an ankle in the process.

“This is disgusting,” she hissed again, blue eyes flashing at the ongoing scenarios that occurred around them, especially once they had entered the room of moaning.

Her face was a mask, but at least she was keeping the revulsion at bay, though the discomfort emanated from her like a living thing. It should have been no surprise that she sat at the very edge of where he sat, sitting prim while her fingers touched her knees, dragging the dress as far down as it would go.

“Should we not be… roaming and asking questions? Who is this Pandora?” She hissed again, avoiding looking at anything but the wall in front of her.

 

[Vinaein]

Leon liked most people, honestly he did. He was generous with his wealth, he liked to have friends. He liked people around him. Even if there was the obvious dilemma that a number of these people were around for what he could do for him. Just there for his money and his favors. But he liked them about him, even if they pretended to enjoy his company. It was the most genuine thing in all his life. His father had always taught him it was best to know the mettle of everyone around..but Juniper? Juniper did not bother with pretense. Juniper made her dislike clear. And how had he repaid her?

Mockery, forcing her to change in a dirty alley...she had to be feeling positively rotten and the guilt struck him soundly, his smile frozen only for appearance of others. Her sullen glare was a spike on him; if looks could kill, h wouldn't just be dead. He would be extinct. He would be consigned to the dustbin of history and the dustbin in the corner. The intensity of her eyes were a scorching fire as they approached the club. When she swayed in her heels, he offered his arm, looking suddenly uneasy. "Inspector...Juniper...here. It's best if we look like we're together. You may and probably will see what disturbs you, but...I'm not going to touch you. I won't harm you. I won't bite you. Not without your consent. I understand you're upset. I'm sorry. And I'm sorry for the heels...."

He did his best to present them as just a playboy and arm candy, greeting those who recognized him and escorting Juniper like she was a possession even if that thought made him ill below. The music was loud with a capital "LOU," pounding all about while he arrived inside. "Place isn't your speed, I take it?" He quipped while they walked inside...the couples writhing on the floor, in the dance floor. There were pairs and threesomes, even foursomes, without regard for gender as the bodies ground and pushed together. There were moans and grunts, slaps of skin audible even over the music while the vampire stuck close to Juniper.

"Stick close to me. This is what this club is like," he murmured. "Juniper, if anyone spares a look...try to act like you don't know anything. You're just here on my arm. It gives you cover..."

What had he gotten her into? He thought as they took a seat. He put an arm up on the sofa, crooked grin on his face...as the door opened. The woman sashayed and slid over, her hair a tawney golden color, hanging to her waist. She was gorgeous, with skin the color of alabaster, flanked by another woman with mahogany skin and black hair, both with blue eyes. The first woman had a pair of leathery wings from her shoulders that twitched as she walked in.

"Mmm, Leon, darling..." she said delicately. "And what brings you to the club?" She reached over and slid a finger about his thigh. "Bringing a friend? Is she a gift?"

"Pandora...this is my friend, Junie Clara...Junie, this is Pandora. She owns the club," Leon said with his playboy persona back on. "Junie's my...entourage you could say. She's fun and food in one package. Matter of fact...you heard about the business with Nora, right?"

"Tragic..." Purred the succubus as she cocked her head curiously. "What can I help you with...?" Leon decided to keep her talking, trusting Juniper's intuition and observational skills. "She was in here not long ago...talking with a fellow...but why are we discussing this...she looks unmarked.You haven't even taken a bite?"

"Saving that for later.When we're alone. She's new," Leon lied deftly. "Where'd Nora head, 'Dora?"

"Hmm, if I recall...it was room 6..." Pandora touched a finger on her chin. "...My, an unbled little morsel. How unlike you, Leon..." Her grin revealed pointed teeth as she gave Juniper a wink, though she seemed to keep her hands to herself now.