After In Busy Cities No-one Notices

After despatching with Penny’s hysterics that morning[1], Cepheus and Tristan had met over the archives. Gamp had been able to help with immediate queries and made his excuses that he had meetings. It hadn’t really been an excuse, he had met with Solomon Carstairs up on Two early afternoon[2].

He’d tried to be as natural with Vaillancourt as possible since they’d confirmed the last owner of the broken wand at the Christmas Day scene[3]. It had been awkward.

There were more than a few questions running through Ceph’s head. What if his friend and vampire consultant were in on it? That seemed unlikely, but a possibility. Either way, he would be tarred with the same brush if it was all true. What if it was all a real misunderstanding and Motley were somehow innocent? Would Tristan ever trust him again? Would he hate him for keeping it from him?

With the note arriving from two, Cepheus could put the chat off no longer. He made sure to close the door to the archives behind him, so they might have early warning if someone joined them. Sound in this space always became muffled by the sheer volume of records crammed on shelves and filed in cabinets within.

“I’d ask how you’re not driven mad by lack of sunlight in here,” Cepheus attempted to break the ice (which was only on his side), “but I’d be asking the wrong person.” He gave Tristan a smile which felt a little forced. “I’m glad you’re still here,” he pushed on, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

1.	Perfectly Peculiar
2.	In Due Corpse
3.	Dry Christmas

He heard Cepheus Gamp before seeing him - the Division Head had a particular way of walking, a specific rhythm, and Tristan's ears detected it just an instant before he caught Gamp's scent as well. It was a warm and delicious scent, one whose blood he had previously[1] savoured. Cepheus tasted of forests in the spring and the grins of young men huddled around tables in crowded village pubs.

The vampire himself was perched on a low stool at a reading table in the archives. Before him were two large books of collected periodicals from the 1890s, dusty but alive with headlines that jumped exuberantly around the pages. He was making notes on a scroll, mostly factual inaccuracies reported in articles about vampires.

As part of his duties, he would have to get in touch with the vampires involved (if they were alive) so that he could include a note in the archives about different accounts of the same scenarios. History was written by the winners of wars, and in this case often by vampire hunters.

He lowered his quill on Cepheus' approach, and then removed his wire-frame spectacles. "Your timing is fortuitous, my friend," Tristan gestured at an empty stool next to him. "I was growing weary of solitude and ink." There was a forced light-heartedness to the wizard's manner that made him suspect this was going to be a serious talk... but what about? The only recent occurrence that might merit such a tone was the murder in December, about which there had been little news lately.

"What do you wish tell me?" he asked, openly searching Ceph's expression.

1.	Jun 4th 2011 - A Bite to Eat

The reading table was busy with bound files and parchment. In his haste, Cepheus hadn’t taken in the scene. Tristan demonstrated above-human levels of concentration with this work. Whether it was driven by species self-interest or incredible work ethic, Cepheus still wasn’t sure.

“What do you wish to tell me?”
“Ahm, well…” Cepheus averted his gaze to the ceiling, gathering his thoughts. He took a seat but seemed to consider whether he should before he sat. His hands knotted before himself as he began. “I have some news about a friend. Or, perhaps not a friend, but-.” Cepheus forced his hands down, conscious they relayed his anxiety of relaying this information.

“Cassandra Motley has been arrested.” He came out with it. He’d told himself before that he should just do that. Oh gosh. He swallowed, eyes not leaving Tristan’s face. “Just now. Word came up. I understand she’s… she’s your house guest?”

            “Cassandra Motley has been arrested.”

Tristan blinked as he turned on his stool to fully face Cepheus. Cass? Why would they arrest Cass of all people? Or, well, of all vampires really. He did not speak right away but allowed for the slightest of pauses, frowning in incomprehension. "Oui, a house guest of a kind. But.." he trailed off and smoothed out his brow. Perhaps the other vampire had gotten into some form of mischief.

She was still new to the ways, was she not? It had not been long ago that she first learned to transform into a winged creature of the night.

"Why has she been arrested?" Tristan finally asked. "I assure you, I can vouch for Motley's character."

Oh thank Merlin, he was surprised, alarmed, caught unawares and all other descriptions. The reaction crassly gave Cepheus reassurance. Much as he wanted progress on the Christmas day body, he did not want it to be at the expense of Tristan. That was why he had wanted to break the news himself. To see the reaction and to offer the personal touch to do it in private.

“I had a feeling you might,” Cepheus replied softly, refolding his hands in his lap. He squared his shoulders, as if switching from friend to manager both in body and mind. “As her … host… if that’s the appropriate word… I was hoping you might be able to account for her whereabouts from sundown on Christmas eve through to daybreak on Christmas day?”

That timescale on its own was rather telling without Cepheus having to spell it out. As consultant, Tristan had been looped in about the details in late December, but not the particulars, such as the wand. Especially not the more recent developments. As far as Cepheus had disclosed, the lines of inquiry had returned solely to the muggle side with the aid of the squib network to identify who might have enticed the victim into the park.

“I’m sorry to ask,” Cepheus explained honestly, blue eyes conveying his concern, “but evidence has come to light that Miss Motley must answer questions regarding.”

Account for her whereabouts from sundown on....?

If his blood could run any colder, it might have just then. Cepheus was implying that Cass had something to do with the Christmas Day murder. Merde, even his hapless lodger knew better than to suck muggles dry and leave them laying about in muggle parks! Tristan dropped his gaze for a moment, watching his hand on the table tighten into a fist. The problem was, he didn't know where she happened to be that night.

He didn't track her every move, they weren't each other's keepers. "What kind of evidence?" Tristan asked, and then made an apologetic gesture. "Sorry. That is outside my... my scope. I'm afraid I cannot account for her whereabouts, Cepheus." That evening he'd spent his Christmas at Hooker's, sipping blood liquor and singing French Christmas carols with Terry's coven.

"It is not unusual for me not to know where Cass is," he added, to assure him that her absence was not the exception to a rule. "I'm certain she will explain herself fully when questioned."

Tristan hoped she had attended some WWN soiree or a date with a potential blood bag.

“What kind of evidence?” They both shifted, without saying a word, acknowledging that was something they couldn’t share. Regrettably for all of them, he couldn’t account for Motley’s whereabouts on the night. “It’s not unusual for me not to know…” Tristan explained, further reassuring detail with respect to keeping Tristan’s hands clean (or was it fangs?)

“I see.” Cepheus replied, a little grimly. “And yes, in the circumstances, I can’t explain, but should this all be a misidentification, gladly will.” He pressed the palms of his hands to the tops of his thighs and exhaled. “If you wished to speak to Level Two in the immediate future, you would have my blessing. It might be prudent to get a statement down, to avoid any shadow of a doubt.” His gaze glanced back and forth to Tristan, uneasy.

“If you’re able to vouch for her character, you must be good friends?” Cepheus asked, trying to get a picture of the vampire past what he had heard on the radio. They had sent word to the studio, and Gamp hoped her listeners would not miss her in the dead of night. “Lived together long?”

Misidentification. He wondered what it could have been that led them to Cassandra? And how clever of them, of course, to apprehend her while Tristan was at work instead of Moonstone Mews. He didn't think it coincidence, though one can hardly blame level two for exercising tact. It genuinely felt absurd they would consider her a danger; if anything Cass was more in touch with these young mortals than he was.

            “Lived together long?”

"Hm?" Tristan rose from his thoughts, unclenching his fist. "Since about Christmas of 2010. I will be certain to include a specific date in my statement, mon amie. They will want an account of her whereabouts on others dates as well, I assume."

The Christmas Day murder was not an exception. There had been other vampire murders and it was logical to assume from what he knew that the perpetrator was the same fanged being. Terry's lead had brought them to a newly turned vampire, Amherst, but questioning him hadn't turned up tangible results apparently.

"I am a good friend to Cass, as well as a manner of..." he gestured, his mannerisms relaxing somewhat with a faint smile. "Mentor? Non. It is only that she is still young compared to the likes of Hooker and myself. I try to advise, you understand."

“Perhaps.” Cepheus agreed with Tristan’s logical route of thought. They had been hopeful that Amherst had been the cause of the two muggles found in Whitechapel, especially after a well-executed capture in Knockturn. Working with Tristan and Andromeda in the field had been a pleasure but a little scary. Tristan was one of the few vampires Cepheus had encountered who was quite so friendly. He hoped Motley was the bumbling sort given Tristan’s description of himself as mentor.

The Division Head smiled gently at the trials of a vampire mentor.
“How old does a vampire have to be to not be considered young?” He asked, curious. He knew enough of the matters of age in vampires to be aware it went hand in hand with status. Child-appearing vampires could be coven leaders and well into three-figures in age. He suspected he might find those kinds of vampires the least settling in comparison to the Terrence Hookers of the world.

“I should let you do as you need.” Cepheus suggested, realising his curiosity should wait for a more appropriate time. Even at such moments of difficulty between them he found it all too easy to slip into friendly conversation with Tristan. “I’ll be here another hour before I leave, if you need me.” He gave Tristan a nod, a little more formally than his norm. “I hope there’ll be answers, as you say.”

             “How old does a vampire have to be to not be considered young?”

If not for the news he had just received, this might have been any other day on level four. Tristan enjoyed his work here tremendously - whether he would outgrow it in the decades or centuries to come, remained to be seen, but for now it held him well. The company was not unpleasant; more than that, Cepheus' could be quite preferable at times.

"It depends on the average age of vampires in a particular region," he answered dryly but with a smile, even as Cepheus prepared to retreat from the archives. It occurred to Tristan that the Division Head had made a rather strategic move by coming here alone to deliver word of Cass.

Strategic and, perhaps, kind.

"Whatever the answers," the vampire reached for his friend's hand, squeezing it firmly and with as much warmth as the undead might muster, "I appreciate you coming to tell me, Cepheus. I will come to see you before you leave, oui? With my statement, and perhaps you can tell me if it is appropriate."

Tristan did not believe in the least that Cass could be behind these awful, clumsy murders, and he anticipated her eventual release. Even so he did wonder if he should pay a visit to Terry that night, to get his opinion on the matter.

The Division Head was caught off-guard by the hand clasp. It was a reassurance that his decision to approach Tristan alone was appreciated. As ever, it hadn’t been Gamp’s first thought, and he had done better to go with his second.

“Of course, if you would like me to take a look,” he agreed at the suggestion of reading the statement. “Though I trust your judgement on this matter wholly.” He placed his other hand over Tristan’s and patted twice, clasping the vampire’s cold hand between both of his own. Grief, he really hoped he was right to trust Tristan and his judgement. He’d hate to second guess that too.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” he reasserted, letting go. He gently clapped a hand to Tristan’s shoulder once he regained his feet, and left feeling a weight lifting from his shoulders.



End