The Universe's Mixer

Hell did, in fact, have a fury worse than a woman scorned.

That was a scorned Lestat.

In the time since Beauty had 'moved on' from him, Lestat had been nothing short of a homicidal, petulant child. He'd paced his flat thinking of ways to upset her, to make her life more difficult. He'd fed to kill for the first time in quite some time.

It was easy to close the wounds he'd made. And police never could figure out those deaths. No matter if they could, anyway. Lestat did not care right now.

All he did was hurt. He damn near vibrated with it.

Lestat didn't think he was that bad a guy, really. Yet, he consistently found himself alone. First Nicki and Gabrielle left him. Then Louis and Claudia. He supposed Quinn and Mona had not really left him, but since they were close to functioning as one being, it really wasn't the same as being so, so important to someone.

Like Rowan.

God, what he wouldn't give to see Rowan Mayfair right now.

Seated at a desk in his hallway, Lestat finished up the note he intended to leave at Beauty's shop.

And he smiled.

Veronica sat in the library, a serious stack of books on her right, a puzzled look on her face.

Since finding out that Logan was... well, all she could think about was that awful 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' movie she'd seen as a kid, and the phrase 'blood sucking fiend from beyond the grave' coming out of Luke Perry's mouth, and she knew that that wasn't helping anything.

So, she'd grabbed a copy of Dracula. And some books by Anne Rice. And currently, her face was buried in a book by some Mormon lady about vampires who sparkled in the sunlight. But one of them was dating a human, so she kept reading.

But not without sarcastic snorts and comments every five to ten minutes, depending.

Finally, mid-sentence, Veronica closed the book in disgust. "This is such crap," she said, to no one in particular.

River hadn't had too many visitors. Jesse'd been the best one, though.

River'd gotten to leave the cell. No one knew that but her and Jesse. And she hadn't had to hide from him, either. She hadn't had to stop being what she was. River and Jesse had talked telepathically for a while, and it made her feel like the pressure outside and the pressure inside were equalizing. It made her feel normal again, to be herself, to tell him things without speaking.

She knew she was waiting for the investigation to push forward, and it hadn't been that long exactly that she'd been here. She also knew that the agents would not release her except into a hospital. They talked about it a lot. All the time. The cops and agents were not sure she wasn't insane, that she wasn't a danger to others or herself. River did not like that, but she figured it would be worked out.

Hannibal would not stand for this.

She was surprised when one of the guards opened the door just after lunch, though. This wasn't Hannibal. She knew that before the guard said anything, and before the door even opened fully.

"You have a visitor," the guard said.

River arched an eyebrow.

He kept to the shadows.

Once, at this place, he'd met a girl named Bella Swan. She'd been sweet and a little dull and one-dimensional, and easy to talk to for all of those reasons. Tonight, Lestat was looking for a similar experience.

But he wanted to end it with the opening of human veins.

He hung around outside the cafe entrance, watching the people come and go, reading minds to find someone interesting.

Or evil.

Or pure. Pure like Honour. Oh, God, that'd be perfect. He'd have to start doing that. And leaving the girls outside her door.

He watched the approaching people, too, casually acting like he was waiting for someone, offering half-smiles when necessary.

That was what hunting was all about, right?