It’s mid afternoon when Alton and Cook arrive back at St. Errigal’s Shrine. The room is much more crowded than before, currently in use distributing stacks of donated clothing to a short line of needy in the hall. Neda Piareili recognizes them, and waves them over to where a volunteer is working on packing boxes as the end of the line.

The volunteer is unmistakably a vampire, dressed entirely in dark clothes with gloves, a headscarf, and smoked glass lenses in his glasses. Cook spots the black umbrella leaning against the table where the volunteer vampire works, and recognizes who it must be.

“Hello Clark.” Cook shakes the vampire’s hand during a pause in the work. “It’s good to see you again. Wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Good to see you too, George.” Melpress’s voice is much more lifelike than the necropolitan detective’s. Alton amuses herself noting the differences between such an old fashioned undeath and a modern one. “Neda said you might be around looking for me.”

“Honestly, I was hoping to ask you a different set of questions entirely, but circumstances changed. We’re told you are sponsoring some new Redeemed. What can you tell us about them?” Cook flips open his notebook.

“As you know, I can’t give you anyone’s name.” Melpress starts folding another tunic. “If I knew anyone who shouldn’t be trusted, I would let you know right away.”

“In that case,” Alton begins, “is there anything you can tell us about Marion Durandal? We understand she volunteered here.”

“I remember her.” Melpress shrugs. “But I can’t say I remember her well. She’s the girl who was beheaded yesterday, right?”

“I hope her legacy ends up as something better than just the circumstances of her death.”

“I can’t disagree with that, but she didn’t make much of an impression on anyone but, well, you know I can’t give a name. She was a bit too intense for a donor for our purposes.” Melpress finishes closing the box he was working on and passes it off to another volunteer. Finished with his immediate task, the vampire leads the two detectives to a place to sit down away from the bustle.

“Did you get the impression that she was planning to be turned herself?” Cook seats himself across from Melpress. Alton takes the extra seat next to him.

“Not really.” Melpress doesn’t look surprised. “She seemed curious, but more curious about how we were working to overcome the Hunger than curious about what vampirism really entails. Why do you ask? She didn’t-”

“She did,” interrupts Cook. “Or at least, her friends say she did. The last time she was seen by a friend was a week ago, and she was seen then with fangs.”

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.” Melpress leans his elbows on his knees. “She would have had to go through counseling before signing the legal paperwork, and that’s a lengthy process. It’s why you don’t see too many fresh new teenage vampires. By the time they’re through with the paperwork they’ve either changed their mind about dying to be one of us or they’ve become adults.”

“Would your candidate have taken a shortcut for such an intense donor?” Cook scribbles quick notes from their contact.

“Based on how he’s beat himself up about having tasted true blood at all, I’d say not.” Melpress sits quietly for a moment. “You know, if you really want to get information on the vampire community, you should head back to Red Wight.”

“We’ll head there sometime tomorrow.” Alton contemplates the hour. “We wouldn’t want to show up while there’s a crowd.”

“You could always bring a date, catch a show.” Melpress winks. “There’s an excellent quartet scheduled to play through the week.”

“You know, I just might.” Alton smiles. “But one more thing. When most vampires turn, do they distance themselves from all their friends?”

“Some do, some don’t.” Melpress holds up both hands. “On one hand, you have the people who see it as a way out of the life they’ve currently got. They tend to embrace their Hunger and separate themselves from their previous life as much as possible. They’re - not really the type that make it through counseling to be approved legally, and could be the sort to take a shortcut.

“On the other hand, you have the people who see it as a way to enhance the life they’re currently living. To them, it’s not unlike passing the tests to gain Thaumaturgic Society licensure or being ordained as an adept or cleric. It’s a path to power, and doesn’t rearrange their entire existence once complete.”

“What about Spawn?” Cook asks, holding up what might technically be considered a third hand.

“What about Spawn?” Melpress repeats. “Well, once you get around the fact that that’s inherently not something a person chooses to do, and ignore the legality of it, Spawn have zero relationship with their prior life at all unless they’re released. By nature, the Spawn are under the direct control of their Master. The only relationship they’ll have to their previous life is the one he or she allows. To have Spawn that act normally once created is entirely unheard of.”

“Do you know of anyone who would possibly be in the business of creating Spawn?” Cook asks with a shrug.

“There’s some Elder Lords still on the mainland, but other than that, no.” Melpress shakes his head emphatically. “If I knew of someone doing that I’d turn them in myself.”

“So how about a new vampire,” Alton redirects, “where would someone new go to start building their new life in the shadows?”

“Same place as always,” Melpress says, the detectives can almost hear his smile. “Red Wight.”

“Sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us to find her maker.” Cook sighs, an odd sound that rattles through his oft neglected lungs.

“Best of luck,” Melpress agrees, “If I hear anything worth mentioning I’ll bring it to you. If you’re on the right track with this Spawn idea you should know that the Community will support you in any way that would help.”

“I’ll take you up on that.” Alton stands, brushing dust from her clothes. Both detectives thank their vampire friend and plop a few copper coins in the donation jar on their way out. Piareili waves them over before they leave.

“Did I overhear that Marion Durandal had become a vampire before she ceased?” She speaks in hushed tones.

“Possibly,” Cook confirms, vaguely.

“Is that why her father was so desperate to find her?” The cleric sounds incredulous, as if this is something she can both understand and disbelieve all at the same time.

“We don’t know,” Alton deflects, “all we know is that she was decapitated, and that is an effective method of ending a vampire’s existence.”

“Blinding holiness,” Piareili swears, “That is not something I saw coming.”

“I don’t imagine anyone did.” Cook shrugs.

“Well, don’t let me keep you waiting,” Piareili waves them toward the door.

The detectives leave, heading back toward the station.