The pair made it down two more flights of steps and Logan had noticed the security cameras in the corners. When they reached the bottom of the steps, Ranelle punched in a code on a keypad and the door's lock popped free.

The auburn-brunette pushed the door open and stepped forward slowly. "Take your hands out of your pockets," she warned.

Logan scowled slightly, giving her a dirty look. He placed his hands at his sides carefully, his fingers tingling with the need to protect himself as his instincts pressed at him again.

There was a loud clicking noise as bright overhead lights flashed on, illuminating the room as if by daylight. Ranelle had already put her hand over her eyes, expecting it.

Logan growled, looking down and away as his eyes tried to refocus.

"What have you drug in this time?" came a thick British accent from in front of him and Logan looked up as an average-sized man strode from the shadows at the back of the room, followed by a team of soldiers in full body gear and heavily armed. The man himself was stout and muscular, just under six feet in height with a long dark-haired ponytail and clean-shaven face.

"Easy, Nathaniel. He's with me," Ranelle warned.

"This one?" he asked, looking Logan up and down. "You know the laws around here, Ranelle. And this one brings nothing but trouble. Grand Elder Hadrian has made it clear he doesn't want Dracula-blood in his home without proper decorum."

"I know. But I would appreciate it if you and your men would stand down. We should grant a show of good faith, until proven otherwise."

Nathaniel raised a hand, and then dropped it. The sound of the disassembly of guns sounded soon after. "Would you rather me escort him?"

Logan licked his top teeth, his tongue touching the sharp tips of his fangs. "Good to see you again, too, Bartholomeu," he said, his voice full of cheerful sarcasm.

Nathaniel smirked, his eyes going from Ranelle to Logan. "And good to see you, Blood Warrior. I mean no disrespect, only that I must follow orders... As you are meant to."

"No offense taken," Logan said, mimicking the other elder's tone.

Ranelle sighed, annoyed by their discreet pissing match. It was nothing more but male soldier posturing. "I've not got all night, Colonel, and I'd like to see this through. I have other important things to still handle before the sun rises."

"Then watch your back, darling. You know how the commander is towards unwanted visitors," he answered her. "And be warned, he's in a mood."

She rolled her eyes. "Wonderful. C'mon, Blood Warrior."

The next door was held open by one of Nathaniel's men and she walked through as though she owned the compound. One of the few things that kept her reputation intact with their forces was her class performance she managed to pull every night: one of a strong and gilded woman of command and control.

She may have only been a fledge of the Lord of the House; but to the public, she was the right hand of God.

Stopping at the stairwell, she made sure the Blood Warrior was following before she began to descend into the coven house. Her steps were light on the stairs as she took hold of the railing. "Forgive Nathaniel. We've had some security scares as of late and no one's even given the location without being vetted."

Logan cocked an eyebrow. He followed Ranelle without another word, but kept a sharp eye out to make note of any other security cameras. There was no sense in taking chances.

"Not what you were expecting?" Ranelle asked, seeing his face in the dim light of the stairwell. "It's not the estate that we had before the Great War, but it's fortified and secure. And there are less nosy locals at all hours of the day or night, wondering why there are so many people coming and going from the property."

"I see Bartholomeu still has a stick up his arse," Logan said at last.

She scoffed. "I'm sure he could say the same about your pompous attitude," she responded, her eyes rolling as she descended past the first landing and a door marked L3. "He's become Hadrian's second-in-command in the past fifty years. He's allowed to have a stick with all of his responsibilities."

"So it's true then, that Thorne left?"

"The Grand Elders didn't stay in London together after the American Revolution. Hadrian remains to be our northern stronghold. Thorne went to Ireland to start a coven house and left Nathaniel to run the operation under Hadrian; Seren went to Italy to the Capitol; and Kendall went south to France. Now they are all in the United States to implement a new western stronghold," she said calmly. She led the way down one more flight of stairs to come to another door marked L4.

Logan paused and continued to inspect the walls and the staircase, taking in the industrial and heavy-duty quality of the architecture. He eyed the wall again to see a few holes in one concrete panel and knew immediately what had caused them: bullets. He heard the auburn-brunette punch in a key code on the door before a light buzzing noise followed it. He turned around to follow her inside as she pushed the thick door wide for him. "And you're still here," he said, not in a question, but more as a curious fact.

"Yes," she answered slowly. "I'm not like the other fledges. I'm here to run this house behind the scenes... I've tried to put distance between this place and myself before when I wanted to leave for good. As I'm sure you're aware, it didn't go as planned."

He bit down on his tongue, unsure if he should comment.

"He won't be expecting your visit, nor will he be happy about it. He's very much against Dracula still. Let me go in and announce you. I'll come for you when he's agreed to see you," she added as she walked down the hallway. She took a right to see a reception desk and nodded to the young, blonde vampire, her hair cut in a short bob, at her post. "Visitor one-one-six, Catherine. I'll be escorting him. No name for the record ledger."

"Yes, my lady," she answered, scanning Logan with a hesitant glance.

Logan gave the girl a slight smile as he followed Ranelle. He watched her scan a badge from her waistband on a censor, accompanied by the sound of a lock coming free. When she pushed it open and held it wide, he moved forward to trail behind her as she went down another hall. This one had been decorated with richly-colored wallpaper and artwork. The floors had turned from concrete to marble.

"Who'd you pay for all of the new security technology? Seems very advanced, even for the coven."

She smirked at his comment, having expected him to scope out every nook and cranny. His military nature was ingrained in him. "The coven has made connections over the centuries. One happened to let us use their latest inventions."

Ranelle led the way down the hall as it widened, beginning to look more like a residence rather than a cold warehouse. She glanced at the closed doors to the offices and did her silent countdown as she approached her sire's door. When she came upon it, she turned to look at Logan again. "Wait here," she ordered, praying that he would listen to her. She turned back to the door and knocked.

"Enter," came the sound of a gruff British voice from within.

The auburn-brunette inhaled through her mouth and pushed the handle, stepping into the room. She closed it behind her carefully.

Logan inhaled just as she had, putting his hands in his jacket's pockets again. He stared at the ground, his ears tuning into the conversation inside.

"Sire," she said, her voice holding a hint of meekness.

"Yes, petal?" the male voice asked, sounding distracted rather than endearing. "What've you brought for me tonight?"

"You have a visitor," she answered.

"Who?"

There was a pause.

"The Blood Warrior, sir. He's come to offer an olive branch in peace," she said slowly.

Something slammed on a hard surface, and Logan imagined it was an item on a desk.

"What did I tell you? I don't want you around the Dracula whelp, ever. How many times have I told you?"

"I know," she said softly. "He found us and has asked to have an audience with you. I didn't seek him out."

There was the sound of a chair being pushed back and weight shifted. Logan grimaced when he heard her squeak softly.

If he hurts her, he thought, his jaw clenching. He moved towards the door swiftly, only to pause when she spoke again.

"I promise you, my lord, he is not here for me. He comes to speak to you. I wouldn't defy your orders. If you would just—"

"I know what he wants. Do you think he's here to hold an audience with me? Just like his sire, he is obsessed with what he cannot have. And you will do yourself the kindness and not breathe another word. Are we understood?"

There was silence on the other side of the door, and Logan guessed she was nodding.

"Good," the grand elder said calmly. "And you won't mention any of our other conversations pertaining to the Dracula line."

Silence again. She had nodded.

"That's a sweet girl," he crooned, making Logan snarl silently. He hated Grand Elder Hadrian Winslow as much as the man loathed him in return. Their ancient history was not easily forgotten, or forgiven, in Logan's book.

"Send him in."

Logan could hear the sounds of Ranelle's heels across the floor, muted by carpeting underfoot. He looked up when she pulled the door open.

"Come in, Blood Warrior," she said, her voice low and no longer holding the commanding tone she had taken with him earlier. "He will see you now."

Logan nodded. He didn't smile in her direction, careful not to piss off her maker any more than he already had by being on the grounds. He turned to look at the massive figure of a man standing behind the desk. "Grand Elder Hadrian the Great," he greeted, his voice lacking true sincerity. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I come in tidings of peace and brotherhood. I see the centuries have treated you kindly."

The towering figure of the six-foot-five man smiled, looking more menacing than friendly. His dark brown hair was long and flowed over his shoulders in lengthy waves. His beard was full, but closely cropped around his chin and jawline. There was a scar over his right cheek that showed prominently, slicing from the bottom of his eye to his beard. Logan remembered the night he had earned it. The grand elder's eyes were a deep brown, almost glinting black in the dim lighting. He was dressed in a burgundy button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to show off his Saxon tribal tattoos and scars from old battles. His tweed vest was tight across his wide barrel chest.

"Blood Warrior," he acknowledged, his voice deep and gravelly. "What brings you to my door? I remember Dracula-blood being forbidden in this city."

Logan's brow furrowed, annoyed. "Yes, the Count prefers we whelps stay in Old Country as much as possible... But I come seeking your aid, if you are willing to give it, in a sign of compromise between the Winslow and Dracula lines."

Hadrian's dark eyes squinted before flicking to his fledgling as she waited at the back of the room by the door. "And what kind of aid do you seek?"

"I'm in search of my family, my wife and young son. They disappeared just over three years ago. My contacts across Europe have seen my wife within the London city limits just in the last few weeks," Logan explained. "I was hoping your coven records would have any sightings listed of either of them, as you command this city's Shadow Stalkers."

The grand elder lowered himself into his desk chair in one smooth motion, the leather creaking with his movement. "Hundreds of vampires come and go out of this city every night. What makes you think any of my Shadows have seen a woman or child fitting your family's description?" he asked, uninterested.

"The fact that two of your men have already confirmed to me that my wife was seen within the South London area," Logan shot back, keeping his voice calm as he carefully exaggerated the truth. "I wouldn't come to your door if I didn't have sufficient evidence to believe she is here."

"It's nice to hear that the Blood Warrior finally settled on something other than what he cannot have. Isn't that right, petal?" Hadrian said, his eyes no longer on Logan and fully on his progeny.

Ranelle's jaw clenched from the other side of the room. "Yes, sire."

Hadrian smirked and looked back to Logan again. "So you think of the thousands of supernaturals in my jurisdiction, they saw the correct woman? I'm assuming she's of dark hair and blue eyes, petite stature."

Logan bristled internally, determined not to let the grand elder see it. He had expected some slights, including drudging up ancient history. "No, my lord. Loraine has light blonde hair. She's also tall, almost two meters. And she is quite fiery in disposition." He reached for his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to produce the photograph of her. He held it up, the photo smiling at the grand elder. "This is her."

"A gorgeous specimen," Hadrian said calmly. "But alas, I would have heard of such a creature in my city. You are best moving on and asking your contacts to cast a wider net. Things of beauty often find their way to me. This one has not."

Logan's teeth ground together as he put away the picture. "And my son?"

The grand elder chuckled as he went back to reviewing a folder of stacked papers on his desk. "You aren't going to find a missing child in this city, Blood Warrior. Not even the mortals have luck finding their runaways and kidnapped children. You might as well accept the loss after these few years. Perhaps your wife simply left with the child."

"You suggest that my wife would run from me as if I were some sort of monster?" Logan asked, his tone harsh. His hands gripped into fists at his sides. "Last I looked in the mirror, I was not the monster, unlike another in this room."

Hadrian paused and looked up again, his grin slowing. "If you mean the Fair Lady, then your comment is deeply unfair. I don't think she could qualify for anything beyond a simple thorn on a rose, rather than a monster."

Ranelle crossed her arms over her chest, glancing at her maker before looking away again.

"I prefer a kitten without the use of her claws, after all."

Logan bristled. "Only a monster would ignore my pleas for help in finding a child. Lady Ranelle has been at least magnanimous in letting me ask for your aid, despite her orders."

"And she will be spoken to about that," the grand elder replied. "Last I recall, you were also ordered by your sire to flee my territory and never return. Seems both of you need to learn a new lesson in obedience."

Ranelle tensed at the back of the room, looking up at the elder again. Before she could open her mouth to protest, she saw his expression and remembered his threat. Her jaw clenched shut again.

"Dracula signed a treaty with your siblings that we would protect one another against our common enemies. I've come to collect on behalf of his bloodline. My family could be in the hands of our adversaries, and you would do nothing but shrug your shoulders and tell me to piss off," Logan fired back. "I have protected your household in past centuries. And yet you would lie down and neglect your duties in response."

Hadrian's face twisted from aggravated annoyance to anger. "Attempting to steal a man's property from him is against the duties of our clans' treaty. You neglect your honor, then I shall neglect mine."

Logan gripped his hands into fists at his sides. "And treating a progeny as chattel doesn't give you the right to be a maker. You have no honor to speak of. I came to you in a showing of good faith that the past could be set aside and our differences forgotten. My family is missing and you will do nothing because it brings you nothing in pleasure or profits in return. How on earth your coven still stands, I haven't an inkling."

"If you want any of the Shadow Stalkers' help in finding your little bitch of a wife, then you best learn to kiss the ring, Blood Warrior," Hadrian snarled. "I'm sure your obsessive nature got the best of her and she's run off for greener pastures. It is not the Shadow Stalkers' responsibility to return a lost bone to a dog. Your sire made an immortal pledge and signed the papers. You did not. And if you want my aid, you will have to learn to be obedient and stop reaching for my things."

"My wife is not a lost possession," Logan fought back. "She is my equal. And it is not just Loraine who is missing. You avoid the subject of my son!"

There was a smash as the grand elder threw his wine glass to the floor, the sound of shattering glass filling the room. By the door, Ranelle cringed.

"I'm growing tired of you, Blood Warrior," Hadrian growled. "Say another word, and I'll have you tossed outside with a stake through your heart. This is my house. I run it as I see fit. And I do not like Dracula-blood sullying my halls and attempting to raise hell. I do not care to aid in finding its next generation for the Dracula line to continue like incessant weeds. I don't care if your bloody family is alive or dead. Get out."

"You sick son-of-a-bitch," he breathed, his cheeks flashing hot in anger. "You don't deserve your immortality."

"Ranelle, get him out of this coven before I kill him myself," the grand elder ordered, bracing his hands on his desk.

"Yes, sire," the petite auburn-brunette answered. She grabbed Logan's elbow and pulled with her vampire strength. She pushed him ahead of her and marched after him into the hallway, the door shutting behind her. When he continued down the corridor, she followed. "You have some nerve speaking to him like that," she hissed once they were far enough from the office. "Do you know what could have happened? You jeopardized both of our lives!"

Logan spun around, still ready to fight. "I have had hundreds of years to hold a grudge against Hadrian 'the Great,' and it does not end tonight," he shot back, pointing a finger at her. He advanced on the woman, backing Ranelle up against the wall. "You can keep blindly following him, but I will never take orders from a man who isn't worth the centuries of life he's been given."

"I understand there is still animosity between the bloodlines, but you just put my life in danger because you were only thinking about yourself!" she snapped at him. "You know what he is capable of, and yet you stood there and insulted him without ever thinking of the havoc you're inviting."

The man hissed a breath and shook his head. "You're a grown woman, Ranelle. If you're so afraid of what he will do to you, you should have left lifetimes ago. I am not here to offend you or cause you harm. I'm here to find my wife and son. I've been looking for them for more than two years. This coven was my last hope."

"I don't care if you think you have nothing left to lose, Blood Warrior. But I won't have you coming into this place and starting up a feud again that will no-doubtedly continue for another three hundred years between Winslow- and Dracula-blood clans. It has nearly cost us our lives on more than one occasion. Don't burn your bridges with us of the fledgling rank because of Hadrian."