Blood Files

The road runner rumbled up to the curb. Eric pushed on the steering column stick to shove the car into park. He turned off the engine and leaned back in the driver's seat. He wondered if the Reds could smell it. It was deep seated under all the other scents, but the burnt smell was there. The building was new: brick, gothic, fitting with the Chicago neighborhood's esthetic. It was still a mansion, but not built ever to be a home. The sign above the door and on the corner read "St. Claire Velvet Room."

He slipped his arm over the bench seat back. He leaned towards the wizard in the passenger seat. For a second, he looked Harry over with a worried eye. He looked bruised and unrested. He didn't doubt that he was up for the task, but Eric contemplated Red Court perspective while he looked over their new club. Very pretty people wandered in and out. A few humans stood around the entrance. Eric noted two bouncers/body guards that had beating hearts standing at the front door.

"Shall we announce ourselves or simply let ourselves in?"

He ended up on the roof of Fangtasia II to complete his circle of rum, chicken blood and bourbon. The mixture evaporated into a purple mist to seal off the bar from a certain wandering god. He pulled a cigar from his suit coat pocket. He ran it under his nose and inhaled. He screwed it into the corner of his mouth.

"Hey! Merlin!" With a hand wrapped firmly around one of the front porch beams, Pam leaned out to yell up at the roof. "Are you done yet?"

"I am finished." Papa Midnight didn't raise his voice. He flicked open his Zippo lighter. His cigar caught fire and burned ember bright against the night sky.

"Can you come down and do me a favor then?"

"If you wish." Midnight pocketed his Zippo. As he exhaled a pillar of smoke, he looked up into the night sky.