A little before eleven in the evening. Rated M for violence.


The door relented, opening inwards into the flat. Terry entered with a light step that did not quite touch the wooden floorboards and therefore made no sound. Being a Sunday evening, however, he was relaxed and didn't anticipate interruption.

Lazarus was hanging about, keeping a watch. The apartment building was a converted factory, the kind of place that popped up further out from central London, packed to the rafters with kids who smoked like chimneys and played a variety of string instruments (badly). Laz had also helped him to get into the flat - they had their resources.

This was nothing too sinister by his standards, anyway. Hooker closed the front door behind him and paused to observe the living area in the dark, adjusting to the different smells. Exposed brick walls were prettied up with comfortable touches. He followed his nose.

Waverly's bedroom was unremarkable. There were clothes everywhere, a copy of the new witch weekly lying on a mess of older magazines. The scent was strongest here and Terry lingered a moment, touching the odd trinket. He was wearing a black suit, unbuttoned - and a red paisley neck scarf, which he undid and left carelessly on her nightstand. On the way out, he nicked a nearly empty pack of fags.

The bathroom. Small, a tub taking up the lion's share of floorspace. Magical fairy lights were carefully strewn about, lighting up the naked pipes and little glass bottles of toiletries.

Hooker perched himself on the lip of the tub and crossed his legs. He placed one of Waverly's cigarettes between his lips but didn't light it.

Lazarus Blackburn was as invisible as he liked in the shadows of the courtyard. He'd been there since nightfall, standing watch for the young witch who'd sang a sad song. When Waverly Apparated into the courtyard and headed inside, Lazarus fluttered up to the fourth floor as a little brown bat. He returned to his feet, tapped on the glass and had a seat on a mesh patio chair.

Waverly had no way to notice. She checked for mail in the lobby, and took the stairs up to her door at the end. The flat was dark but for the city light coming in through the large arched window that looked out into the scrubby courtyard. She dropped her purse and wand on the table and her coat over the back of her chair. As she shed her skin, she was mumbling some conversation to herself, a rehearsal for when she was set to meet with Tam Handrow the  next day. It was time to explain away her near arrest and assure her there wouldn't be any more trouble. It was nothing, just a few joints, a breeze to put frantic minds at ease, she pictured herself saying. It was fine and the Muse was selling. Business as usual.

She lit a lamp and started the kettle going, then headed into the bathroom.

There was a man there in the dim light. A man sitting in her bathroom. Her voice caught in her throat, but she was honestly surprised at how fast she reacted. In a wink she was gone and in her place a long-limbed wild cat. She charged for her wand out in the main room, claws scrabbling on the walls, her feet not even touching the floor.

Outside Lazarus looked over his shoulder, unseen and unconcerned. Terry wasn't going to kill her, just send a message he'd only have to deliver once. Or at least, that was a the plan.

In one moment there was a young woman standing at the door, eyes wide, and in the next there was an animal scrambling to get away from him.

Terry was on his feet just as quickly - reacting in spite of his initial surprise, following the animagus. Vampires could be quite fast when they needed to be but in this instant it was unnecessary. As soon as he stepped out his eyes latched on to the only thing Waverly could be rushing to claim. No wonder; she was unarmed. Nasty beasts, witches, with a wand.

"Nah," he said, reaching a hand up so that the wand shot far above them and straight into his grasp. "Let's play nice, pussy cat." Hooker slipped the wand into his inner jacket pocket, having hardly moved from where he was stood. A little psychokinesis was never not handy.

Maybe, later, he would snap it in half. If he didn't snap anything else. The vampire was tense in spite of his stance - ready to wrestle with the wildcat, if only to keep it from escaping. "What? No warm welcome, bloodbag?"

Waverly was too late. She overshot the table and her claws raked long white tracks in the darkened varnish of old hardwood floors. She rounded and froze, stock still but shaking. She'd didn't know what to do. Apparating and calling for help relied on a wand, and she'd have to become herself to get out of the door. Terrence was too fast. Even as an Animagus, she'd lose pitifully in a melee. And without her wand, she was out of options.

Under the vampire's gaze, Waverly transfigured back into her own body and got slowly to her feet. Her throat was tight and she couldn't stop shaking. She held her arms close to her chest and backed until she hit a wall. He was different now from that night when he'd been smooth and open. Now he was serious. Taut.

"I didn't tell anyone." All Waverly managed was a whisper. "I didn't tell anyone, I didn't tell anyone, I didn't tell anyone," she rattled off over and over. Her breath was short and ragged. She couldn't stop saying it. She knew why he was here.

            "I didn't tell anyone, I didn't tell anyone, I didn't tell anyone..."

"No?" he took a step forward and then another, slow but deliberate as he took out his own lighter for the cigarette. "Then why do you think I'm here, girl, if you didn't tell anyone?" Terry took a long drag and tasted her tobacco with distaste. "You think I pay house calls for a lark?"

Well, he did, but not for young little sprogs like this one. The vampire puffed away and crossed an arm over his chest to rest his elbow against, watching Waverly with inky eyes. She wasn't going anywhere. She was afraid. Those were two things he was counting in her favour; her head was screwed on just fine. Only a little bit loose.

Terrance continued, shaking ash off the tip. "I hear your mummies are well informed. Must be fun, luv. Auror for a mum," he stepped closer and glanced past her for a second - aware of Laz lounging not far away.

M: language

"Fuck!" she choked suddenly. All the swaggering and aloofneas, it wasn't meant for this. It was stripped from her like a sheet pulled sharply away, and Waverly was left with nothing. No bravery, nothing clever, just panic. She had to not panic, but the vampire had advances and her flat was small.

She shook her head at his questions, worried now he thought she was a liar.

But he came to it.

"I hear your mummies are well informed. Must be fun, luv. Auror for a mum."

"No, no, no, I swear I didn't tell them. They don't know anything," she insisted as the tears came. She realized now that of course they hadn't dropped the matter. They'd found out! They'd stuck their nose in and now Terrence Hooker was going to kill her.

"They saw the bite," she began talking as fast as she could. "But I didn't say anything, I didn't say anything. They asked me, but I didn't - I didn't break the rules. I wouldn't - I swear I didn't tell anyone. They don't know!"

But someone knew. And someone had told. And now Terrence Hooker was going to kill her.

Clearly some part of Waverly must have known this visit was coming, known she had wronged the coven - her words ran on without halt, desperate to prove their integrity as Terry continued to approach the witch by backing her up against a wall.

Oh, yes, of course her mothers would have seen the bite, seeing as how she was reckless enough not to conceal it. He could tell she was being truthful on one account at least: neither Roh nor Ballentyne appeared to know anything. Vaillancourt promised to keep him informed should the witchy couple make progress in their investigations but for now the status quo prevailed.

"Didn't anyone teach you to hide your sins, luv?" he searched her expression. "Now how do I make sure they don't come to know anything else?"

Terry dropped his jaw into an open mouthed grin, letting it grow long and unhinged in a series of little cracks. "Don't you think." he breathed his words against her face, in two voices at once, "Hooker deserves a little compensation for the trouble?"

Hooker unhinged his jaw and bore his fangs and any human resemblance dissolved. Her voice returned and she cried out. In a futile instinct, Waverly sank skittered away from him down the wall, knocking a framed poster on the wall, and stumbling. She was going for the balcony door fell to the ground against the wall and covered her head.

"I'm sorry! Please no!" she sobbed.

This is why you don't consort with vampires, a voice chided her. This is what happens when you stand on the ledge. You wanted to be caught and now you've done.

Then suddenly, the kettle.

Fweeeeeeeeeee!

He lunged at her as she pulled away, pushing herself across the wall to get away. Terry didn't let up - and when she dropped to the floor he clutched her forearms, forcing them to the floor and dropping his knee  to crouch before Waverly. She was crying, they were always so sweet when they were crying.

            Fweeeeeeeeeee!

Hooker made a frustrated snarling noise, "Laz!"" he hissed, urging the other vampire to come deal with the domestics of the situation. The whistle of the kettle was loud and high, and it grated on his nerves. His dark eyes, pupils completely dilated, snapped back to the girl.

This was her second chance. If it happened again, there would be no third. There would be no Waverly, either.

Deaf to her pleading and stalling, he ducked his head and went straight for the neck. She had a pretty neck too: slender and rich with the woody scent of an Oud perfume. Terry breathed her in for just a half-second, before he bit down. He shoved her back against the wall. His ears, sensitive, sought and focused on the racing of Waverly's heart, to pace his bloodlust.

Waverly's scream was cut off before it began. She twisted against Hooker's hold to no avail. His fangs sunk in, the pain was blinding and then the vampire's old magic took its turn. It wasn't like the first time when she'd been curious, when she'd rode a wave of euphoria as far as it took her and she'd looked over a dark horizon, body and soul. But this time, she drowned. She was sinking, lights out, alien pleasure, her panic and fear looking down on her from far above. It lasted an eternity, and every second that passed she forgot who she was.

About that time, Lazarus came in from the balcony lacking the sense of urgency that saturated the interior of the flat. He did move quickly though, and before you could say Hook's Your Uncle the kettle was off the fire and the noise stopped. It was desperately silent. No one made a sound. He and Hooker had done second chances before, and even a third or two. The kid was on the floor, and Hooker would take what he was owed. It stirred up a vicarious turn of the gut in Lazarus who, like everyone else, preferred the living to the bottle.

Rather than stare at Hook's hunched form, Laz started lifting lids of jars and snooping in cupboards. He found some teabags and set about brewing some up. Second Chance Sally there would probably need a cup after this.

A sharp whistle[1] brought Hooker out of his drinking, eyes rolling back down as he jerked back from the human. It was messier than it would have been at the pub - blood was smeared along her long neck, centred around the twin wounds. He licked his lips and fixed his jaw back into place, still crouched.

Terry glanced over his shoulder at the other vampire, who was fussing over tea. "What are you doing?" he intoned with a gravelly sigh; Lazarus was always so strange. Like a child playing with the make-believe toys of mortal lives.

The coven leader turned back to his prey. Waverly was slumped against the wall, still coming out of the heady effects of the bite. She was lost to its delirium, worse than before. He glanced at her wrists, clocking the one he had offered her last month. Instead he reached for her other hand.

"Keep your head down and your mouth shut, bloodbag," his open palm came close around her fingers, and then suddenly squeezed down with enough force to break Waverly's little bones. "Or I'll be seeing you again," he spoke over the sound of fracturing metacarpals.

Hooker released her hand and got up in one swift movement, gesturing at Lazarus. They were done here, the message had been delivered. Vampires did not need an invitation to enter a home but Terry never saw a point in sticking around afterwards.

1.	Laz, with Niobe's permission.

Terry took his teeth back. Waverly gently began floating back up again towards the gentle light of the waking. She heard Terry's voice echoing blurry and close; it called her home and chilled her bones. She felt relief, then she felt his hand.

Then pain, shocking pain blasted through the haze like a Reducto charm. Waverly's eyes shot open and she started sucking air in rapid breaths, trying not to scream. She stared at her hand in horror - what had he done! Her right hand, her wand hand, he'd broken it. Her head swam and she felt like she was going to pass out. Slowly she moved her arm closer to her chest to hold it, and she let out a whimper. She didn't have any thoughts to spare other than daring to believe it was over. He was going. She didn't take her eyes off Terry, and had no idea what to do about noticing a second man who was standing in the kitchen.

About then, Lazarus stood up from the counter where he'd been swimming a tea bad around by its string.

"They're always drinking tea," he explained, then moved to open the door for them both like a drunk valet. Their errand was done and done. Lazarus didn't take any pleasure in the pain of any living thing, or unliving for that matter, but in the balance of things it was an important inconvenience. If the kid was grown enough to come in for a snack, then she was grown enough to keep the rules.Besides, whether he liked it or not, he was careful of crossing Terry these days. Just to be sure. He had his own warning to heed, didn't he.

He had another look at Waverly who was just sitting there, holding her arm, crying and staring. She looked to him like she'd bolt as soon as they left.

"Mmm, I think it'll stick," he said thoughtfully. Better for everyone.

             "They're always drinking tea," Laz observed as Terry got up and joined him.

Not wrong. That was the thing about Blackburn, he made sense. Eventually. Hooker stood in the doorway for a moment to join his fellow vampire in giving Waverly Roh-Ballentyne one last look; with her wild curls and wilder eyes, cradling her hands like it was a child. Very different from the witch who'd strode purposefully into his pub.

"I think it'll stick too, mate." Terry smirked, taking her wand out of his pocket and tossing it on the closest table; just far enough. "For her sake."

They left the flat as silently and with as little bother as they'd arrived; the scale had been reset, and it was the mortal's turn to act. Or rather, not to act.

When the door clicked closed, Waverly clapped her hand over her mouth and choked down a scream. She held her breath as if any sound she made would summon the vampire back. Seconds passed, or maybe minutes, until she worked up the nerve to get up from the wall. She was shaking, dizzy, and her head was full of static. It was a struggle to think straight or put things in order. She had to lock the door. She had to get out. She had to find her wand, run home to her parents, warn Gabby, go to the hospital. Waverly cast about and the wand on the table became an anchor.

It felt alien in her left hand, like it belonged to someone else. She curled her fingers around the handle searching for the grip that made sense and tried to clear her mind for a clean Apparition. She saw the entry to St. Mungo's and the clean white floors and tall desk. She saw her street, her front door, her moms' bedroom window lit up. She saw the Ministry of Magic atrium. She saw Terrence Hooker unhinging his jaw.

The completeness nearly swallowed her up, the claustrophobia was crashing in. There was nowhere to go. St Mungo's would sound an alarm, her parents knew everyone in Creature Injuries, and if they found out the world would set itself on fire. There'd be no way to stop it. But she couldn't stay here.

Waverly struggled into her coat and focused on a mint green door in a dark wet night.

Crack.


fin