Teen Titans: The Darkness that Beckons

A/N: So, I know that I have, like, a billion stories that are unfinished but I've had a severe case of writer's block and this is apparently the only thing my mind was willing to write. Besides, this one may fall into that category as well. No one read my last story and so my brain lost interest in writing it. Do I know how all my unfinished stories will end? Yes, but without proper encouragement and a lack of vocabulary seem to have stopped them momentarily. Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy this new one. If you don't let me know. If you do, let me know. Enjoy!

~SCP

Summary: AU. I am taking complete and liberal use of all vamp folklore and, in some cases, pretty much making up some stuff that I feel is conducive to my own personal plotline. I am, knowingly, changing some times and places to suit my story so please do not correct me, because I know. Please, do not leave stupid or angry comments about how I have this wrong or that wrong; I don't care. That's what creative writing is. Duh.

Molly Seward left the boisterous tavern at half past two in the morning, giggling quietly to herself as she stumbled down the cobblestone street, remembering the drunken, but pleasant, ministrations of the young sailor whose name she had already forgotten. She toyed with the pearl necklace she had borrowed from her mother's jewelry box without her consent, thinking that this trinket had been her lucky charm with the men this evening. Her silly friends had either already gone home or left with other men but she had stayed to keep the young man company. This was not the first time she had left the bar unattended but, unfortunately, it would most likely be the last. The damp night air in Whitechapel was colder than usual and the streetlamps in neighboring London cast an eerie halo of light off to her left as she maneuvered through the streets back home. She did not understand what possessed her to take the back alleys to her flat, but on this night she chose the dark pathways that seemed to tempt her closer and closer.

As she rounded the corner of the third alley, she suddenly became very light-headed and very aware of her surroundings. She quickened her pace as she watched the shadows dancing on the walls next to her, the light playing tricks on her mind and casting spectral hands on the buildings that seemed to reach out to try to snatch her. She dropped her shawl and began to run, fearing the unknown shadows she just knew were creeping up on her; she had yet to see or hear anything and the thought that she was imagining things had crossed her mind but she paid the logic no attention. But of course, logic was going to play no part in tonight's scene. Focusing harder on getting away from her imagination, Molly was not paying attention to where she was running and it was this lack of concentration that caused the poor young woman to trip over her own dress; she tumbled across the stone pavement, scraping her hands, ripping parts of her clothes, and bringing down the hair upon her head.

She paused to collect herself and push the miniscule pain away when she heard a whisper float her way across a gust of exceptionally cold and rank-smelling air. "Are you alright, young beauty?" the whisper flew by her, drowning out all of her surroundings. She spun around on the ground and could see nothing but shadows. "W-who's there?" she croaked out, looking around wildly into the alley. She received no answer except for a very sinister chuckle that emanated from the shadows to her right. The last thing she ever saw was a set of glowing red eyes and her screams fell on dead air as they spilled out of her throat, along with her blood. The only sound heard from that alley was a slight chuckle and the scattering of borrowed pearls.

Detective Richard Grayson watched the town pass by him as the carriage sauntered through the streets of Westminster on the way to London. He was sure his sullen mood was caused by the bleak, gray atmosphere that England seemed to always possess, compared to the sunshine and encompassing nature of the States where he took up residence a few years ago. 1879 in Europe looked considerably different compared to the States of the same time; Europe seemed to be stuck in the past and that was exactly why Richard left, why he needed to escape his history. This time, he was back in Europe visiting his intimidating uncle, Bruce Wayne, the man who had raised him and had cultured a desire in him to go into law enforcement. While Bruce did much business in London and was very familiar with the townspeople, he actually lived on the outskirts in the rural village of Hyde Park. Richard and his uncle-slash-father had been sent for by the officers of Scotland Yard themselves, requesting any monetary and physical assistance in a case that they could. Richard didn't really want to be doing work on his furlough, but it was a welcome break from the stifling silence and rigor of Wayne Manor.

Bruce had been quiet, as usual, on the whole ride, only speaking to say hello to fellow businessmen or to point out a house that was home to a wealthy and influential friend of his; all of whom, coincidentally, had young, unmarried daughters who were around his age and each possessed a unique and prominent talent related to the aristocratic realm. Richard could do nothing more than roll his eyes at his uncle's not-so-subtle hints that he was not happy with his unattached status. Bruce himself had a few wives, but they had all succumbed to death, most during childbirth, and he was left widowed and without any surviving children. He knew it was no excuse, but Richard always took his uncle's miserable past as the reason for his cold and brisk demeanor now. He was polite, of course, to all of Bruce's patrons, but none of the women sparked any interest in him; he was looking for that cliché, special woman, the one who ignited his heart and his mind more than anyone else could.

He had always harbored a crush on an old friend of the family's, Ms. Mina Harker, a slightly older woman that was very beautiful and seemed to possess a plethora of worldly knowledge. She was independent, intelligent, and not afraid to stand up for herself. She always had an air of sophistication and experience and she represented a different kind of woman that Richard greatly admired, one who was strong and did not silence herself or walk behind her husband. Granted, he had never seen Mina with a man and she claimed that her husband died many years ago, something very few people could corroborate. He was snapped out of his reverie as the carriage entered into the limits of the great city of London and the ambiance changed from a quiet, peaceful calm into the normal hustle and bustle of the big city. Richard frowned as Bruce's friendly demeanor with the outside locals changed into the grim lines of an important businessman on duty.

The carriage rode on for a little while longer, maneuvering through the crowded streets to find the newly erected police headquarters, commonly known as Scotland Yard, and to find their correspondent and old friend, Commissioner Gordon. The carriage stopped a few buildings short of the station and the two men got out, letting the driver know they would not be long. "Alfred, stay close, please," Bruce instructed, giving the man some change. "If you should like a drink or something to eat, that would be acceptable. I don't think we shall be long here, before we move on elsewhere." Alfred nodded and went someplace to set the carriage and relax for a little while. "Come along Richard," Bruce said, motioning toward the new building. "Gordon said he wanted to meet us in his office." Richard just nodded respectfully and followed his uncle toward the station.

He was used to this subservience to his uncle and normally he just followed behind him, keeping his eyes unfocused or on his uncle. As he was walking, though, the world suddenly seemed to slow down and his attention was drawn to the entrance of the post and the odd exchange that was taking place. The Commissioner was out on the steps, talking to a young woman and her group of, well, he didn't know who or what they were, but they were a sight to see. Everyone seemed to be keeping their distance, but at the same time, neither could they look away from them.

"I really do not appreciate antics like this," Gordon was saying politely, acknowledging the young woman. "My department does not have any time for jokes or horror stories, Miss. I respect your difference in beliefs, but please respect the sanctity of the police and the seriousness this case requires. I don't want to see any of you trying to interfere with this anymore, do you understand?" He looked exasperated and unkempt as he looked down from the stoop upon his visitors, clearly disagreeing with whatever words had been exchanged between them.

"I am sorry that you feel that way," responded the young woman, whose voice carried smoothly across the street to Richard's ears. He had struggled to hear most of what Gordon had to say, but her voice sounded as if she were right next to him. It sent chills and flames at the same time coursing throughout his body and he was intoxicated by the mere sight of her. He longed to see more of her, to see her face and hear her words whispered only to him. Never had he been so infatuated with a woman like this before, let alone a woman he did not know and had never seen. It seemed like time dragged on forever and he had to strain to focus on the meeting to keep from getting distracted again. "I had hoped you would take my claims seriously, Commissioner," she began again, filling Richard with awe. "Maybe it would be prudent to your department to employ someone with an open mind. I'm afraid I will have to take these matters into my own hands."

"You keep yourself and your servants, or minions, or whatever they are, out of my investigation," Commissioner Gordon snapped at her, his face bristling with anger at her defiance. "I don't want to see or hear from any of you during this case. I think it would be best if you left now!"

The young woman's stature never changed as she tilted her head in acceptance of his words. "I will ignore your ignorance to my world, and I will bid you good day, sir. I promise, you will not see or hear from us. I hope your unorthodox methods will at least keep the beast at bay, what with all the attention you will bring it. Goodbye, Commissioner." With that she turned around, leaving a flustered Gordon wondering what happened and how he had somehow lost the argument. But Richard was not watching his old friend; instead he was focused on the young woman and the people she was with. In front of her was a young couple, remaining oddly stoic and looking quite young, compared to their companions. The young man had such an odd mixture of shaggy blond, brown, and black hair that it looked green at certain angles and gave him a comical and energetic appearance. He kept close to his blond-haired and fair-skinned companion. Both as them, Richard noticed, looked as though they had very tanned skin that had faded over time, but looked very pale as they were wearing only dark shades of blue and green, respectively.

His eyes then traveled to the very tall and imposing dark man who followed at the back, keeping his eyes trained on the young woman in front of him. His bald head made him look even more menacing as he walked very purposefully in a solid white suit behind the woman who, he could only assume, was his Mistress or something along those lines. He had an almost brotherly affection to his attentions, but for the most part, it was as though he was a bodyguard for the petite, yet profound woman.

And then his eyes could no longer deny looking at the dark angel in the middle. She was quite short, but her attitude made her appear larger than life, dressed in an ancient black dress that encompassed her entire body only to let little patches of porcelain white skin slip out here and there. Her dark hair was pulled into an intricate series of braids, buns, and curls and mostly hidden behind a large black hat with purple roses on the front. He could swear from here, her eyes looked as if they shone a bright amethyst color, making her the most exquisite woman he had ever laid eyes on. It was then, as if she had somehow heard his thoughts, her head turned slowly to look at Richard, their eyes locked and he swore that she looked almost as mystified and intrigued by him as he was by her. Time seemed to stop even more as they kept each other's attention and it wasn't until the tall, dark man placed his hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear that she turned away, breaking the white hot connection their eyes had made.

The world sped back up as she entered into a nearby carriage and drove off and out of London, heading back the same way Richard and his uncle had just come. He had to shake himself out of his stupor as suddenly they were standing in front of the frustrated Commissioner. "Ah, Bruce! Richard! I'm glad you two could make it. Shall we go into my office?" Commissioner Gordon seemed to regain some of his authority as he spoke to them, his body visibly relaxing. "Well we do not need to waste any of your time, Commissioner," Bruce responded, shaking the man's hand. "Why don't we find Alfred and we can have him take us? This way we can talk in private and make use of our time." Gordon nodded and the three of them set out up the block to find Alfred waiting around the corner, ready to take them wherever.

"Everything has been happening over in Whitechapel," the Commissioner said once they had boarded the carriage and given Alfred directions. He shook his head and continued on, "We've had four murders already, but most of them have been vagrants or homeless so we haven't had too much coverage on it. But last night we had a young woman attacked; Molly Seward, the daughter of a prominent Army General, was killed on her way home from the local tavern. Unfortunately, she was last spotted in the company of a young sailor who happens to be bearing the brunt of some of my men. The poor boy didn't leave with her but he's the only lead we have right now. The newspapers have been all over us and, suddenly, all these people are coming out of the woodwork with missing people, mysterious murders, and crazy theories. I'm going out of my mind trying to separate fact from fiction. And it doesn't help when certain people get involved and get everyone worked up over something that doesn't exist!"

"I assume you are referring to your disagreement with Miss Desiree back there?" Bruce questioned, causing Richard's ears to perk up at the mention of the young woman. Commissioner Gordon shook his head and looked tired again. "I know you two have meetings sometimes, Bruce, but I'm sorry, I just can't wrap my head around some of her beliefs and I don't need her horror antics causing an unknown and unreasonable panic within the public." Bruce nodded and continued on, "I find her views somewhat refreshing, I must say. She talks with much conviction and I find it hard to disagree with or find fault with her stories. She is a well-poised young woman, with an immense library of knowledge stored in her mind; sometimes I don't know what to believe when she talks about all the places she has visited and lived. Why, she'd have to be at least 100 years old to amass that much experience, but I just assume it comes down from her family."

Richard was taking all of this information in, wishing he would get a chance himself to meet and talk with this cultured vixen. He didn't want to, but he knew he had to push her out of his mind if he ever wanted to be of use on this case. He cleared his mind as much as he could and forced himself to pay attention and be the detective he had been hired to be. "What did she say?" he asked, not yet ready to give up thinking about her completely. "Did she have an idea as to what has been happening?" "Hardly," Gordon snorted. "She had some cockamamie theory about monsters and nightmarish stories. She was just trying to get me all riled up since I won't let her minions or whatever work on the case. No matter how much money or influence she has, there is no way I'm letting her civilian friends get their noses in this case."

"What kind of theories did Miss Desiree suggest?" Bruce inquired. "Vampires," was all Gordon said, looking outside of the carriage, looking derisive. "Blood-sucking, sleep in the ground, stake-through-the-heart vampires. Ha!" Bruce and Richard just looked at each other, wondering if this was some kind of weird joke. "I'm sorry," Richard said. "Did you say 'vampires'? Is that truly what she claimed was attacking these people?" Gordon just nodded and pushed a tired hand through his disheveled hair. "Yes, vampires. It is as ridiculous as it sounds and I found it hard to take her seriously after that. Usually she is a great deal of help when we need it, but this time I think she is just trying to push what few buttons I have left." Richard paused, not wanting to believe his dark lady was really a superstitious head case. "Has she ever suggested anything like this before?" he asked, somewhat afraid of the answer. "Only to me," Bruce interjected, looking sternly at the officer. "Yes, Gordon, it's true. She has told me fascinating stories of other-worldly creatures and supernatural affinities that it's hard not to believe her. I don't know why you have such a problem with her theories; despite whatever she has told me, she does always help you find what you are looking for."

Gordon sputtered, looking for the right words but could not find them. He resigned himself to a pout-like state and stared out the carriage, trying to recompose himself. Inside, Richard was reeling from everything. There was no way that gorgeous woman was completely insane! Or that his uncle was actually dabbling in her paranormal dalliances as well! It was absurd! He had only been gone for a few years and yet, in such a short time, his entire world seemed to have completely upended itself; his strict, law-abiding, no-nonsense uncle was dabbling in the paranormal world, Gordon did not have complete and utter control of a situation, and he was strangely attracted to a (supposedly) psychotic woman he had never met who was spewing filth about imaginary creatures. The trio finished their ride in silence, Gordon being the only one who spoke near the end of their journey, and that was only to talk to his men who were standing guard at the beginning of the village of Whitechapel.

Alfred stopped the carriage just outside of the town square and let the men know he would wait right there for them when they were finished with their business. Gordon led Bruce and Richard through the eerily quiet streets of Whitechapel, leading them towards a heavily guarded alleyway a few minutes away. Richard kept his eyes open and alert so that he could survey the area around him; he noticed how everyone in the village was watching the law-men with a quiet desperation which he took to mean that the entire town was saddened and frightened by the events that had taken place here. He also saw a young sailor shuttled off to the far side and who seemed to be hiding behind a larger group of young men while an older gentleman, one who was obviously a heavily-decorated general, glared menacingly at him from across the square. He could only assume that this man was the victim's father and the younger man was the poor fellow who had been accused of murdering his precious daughter.

He tore his eyes away from the sad scenes and forced himself into Detective-mode, his eyes on the murder scene and figuring out who had committed the awful crime. "I'm going to warn you now," Gordon finally spoke to them, giving his men a signal to let the trio pass a blockade of officers. "The scene isn't very pretty. We've been utterly baffled by it. She was—well, you'll see, I suppose." He led them to a rather dark alley and over to a small white bundle lying on the ground. Richard frowned as his polished boot knocked a few loose pearls gently across the cobblestone, the rattle echoing rather loudly. "Brown, looks like you missed a few," Gordon ordered, nodding towards the rolling stones. "Bag them up with the rest and send them back to HQ." "I take it they belonged to the young woman?" Bruce inquired as a short and broad man moved quickly to gather the beads into a handkerchief.

Gordon nodded yet again and they stopped right next to the white bundle on the ground. Richard's brain was buzzing excitedly, as it did every time he was on a case. His adrenaline rushed throughout his body, every inch of him on fire, his senses seeming to be overindulged. His brain had already noticed the lack of blood around the crime scene; he frowned at the thought that Gordon's men were rushing and didn't know what they were doing. Why on earth would Gordon have asked them here to help if he was going to have his department already clean up the scene? He huffed, drawing Bruce's attention immediately, the look on his face showing that he shared the same feelings.

"No offense, Commissioner," Richard grunted, staring hard at the covered victim. "But why did you drag us out here if you've already cleaned up the scene? There's no point in us being here and you disturbing this village by letting the body rest here so long." "Well that's just it now, isn't it?" Gordon replied, his eyes growing dark at the accusation of an incompetent department. "We haven't cleaned anything. We haven't touched a thing except to put the cloth over her." Bruce bent down and lifted the sheet off her body, letting everyone see the young woman's body. She was unusually pale, her face frozen in an odd look of terror mixed with an eerie calm. There was slight bruising from where her necklace had obviously been ripped from her neck and her eyes had begun to take on a milky haze. Her pale blue dress was oddly bright against her white skin and she had other baubles on her person, showing that it obviously wasn't an attempted robbery gone wrong. Her dirty blond hair cascaded onto the stones beneath her, creating a halo of dirty light behind her turned face.

"I don't understand," Richard said, bending down to examine her body as well. "Somebody must have cleaned her up; there's not a trace of blood anywhere! Could she have been poisoned?" Gordon shook his head and got down on the ground as well. "That's what we thought, but there's no evidence to suggest it. And, well—there's more…" He trailed off and grabbed the young woman's arm very gently as he pulled a small knife out of his pocket. Bruce and Richard held their breath as they watched the Commissioner quite curiously; he placed the tip of his knife against her skin, piercing the cold skin and letting the men watch, captivated. Bruce frowned, not quite getting what the Commissioner was trying to say. "What do you mean by that?" he questioned harshly as Gordon let her absolutely unblemished arm fall back to the ground. "She doesn't bleed," he answered simply, as if it should have been obvious. "Well, of course she doesn't bleed," Richard snapped impatiently. "She's dead! Dead people don't bleed, everyone knows that."

Gordon sighed at the hard words, looking the two men directly into the eyes as best he could. "I know dead people don't bleed! The blood congeals after a little while, but it shouldn't have done so this quickly. We've been checking ever since we found her, and she hasn't bled once!" "Well she's obviously been dead for a few days," Bruce commented, eyeing his friend warily. "You can tell by the rigor in her body, the lack of blood, I would say she's been dead for at least 2 or 3 days Gordon." Gordon laughed a cynical little laugh and shook his head. "No, she's hasn't been dead that long. It's only been a few hours; 8 or 9 at the most." "That's impossible!" Bruce gasped, looking back down at the victim. "She's completely stiff! Someone must be lying!" "The whole town, Bruce?" the Commissioner asked, scoffing. "She's only been dead a few hours and we think, well, we think that her entire body's been drained. That's why there isn't any mess; it's the only explanation! Whoever attacked her must have known what he was doing, because there wasn't a drop of blood anywhere, it was eerie, really."

Neither Bruce nor Richard knew what to say at this odd idea; draining someone of their entire blood supply? It was just unheard of! They were stunned into silence for a little bit before Richard was able to get his thoughts back to him. "Well, Commissioner, if that is the case," he asked. "Have you found any puncture marks on her person? Is there at least any evidence that someone tried that?" Gordon didn't say anything but he turned his gaze up to her face and the two men got the hint. Bruce delicately placed a finger under her chin and slowly moved her head to the other side so they could see what Gordon had indicated. Gordon looked away as both men let out a collective gasp and Bruce let her head fall the rest of the way. Settled against her alabaster skin were two, tiny red puncture wounds upon her neck with what looked like the last vestiges of the young woman's blood dried underneath.

The rest of the time in Whitechapel and the ride back to Westminster, and then again to Hyde Park was spent in a lot of silence and open confusion. No one could explain what had happened to poor Molly Seward. No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and no one knew anything, but they were all eager to share in their wild theories and claims of puzzlement. Bruce and Richard did as much as they could and promised the Commissioner that they would do all they could to help him find the perpetrator. There was no limit on the amount of money or time they would put in to help the department solve the case.

As they arrived home a few hours later, both Richard and Bruce were wrapped up in their own minds, each one trying to sort out all the details about the murder. Alfred went straight into the kitchen and decided he would get the cooks and maids to get started on some afternoon tea so that the two men could have some peace and quiet to try and work out their thoughts. Richard was lured away from the case by a knock on the door shortly after they arrived home; he meant to ignore it until he heard a distinctly familiar laugh wafting upstairs from the foyer down below. He ran out of his room and peered out over the railing, grinning like a schoolboy at the red-headed woman hugging Alfred below.

"My dear Alfie," the woman purred, giving the old butler a kiss on the cheek. "How I've missed you! It has been a few weeks, hasn't it?" Alfred nodded and offered to take her coat and handbag as Bruce came from the right, obviously having just left his study. "Mina, my dear!" he greeted, rushing forward to kiss her outstretched hand. "What brings you here after all this time away? Surely, you did not miss me?!" Mina Harker laughed flirtatiously, tapping Bruce on the nose and walking further into the house. Richard came rushing down the stairs, his eyes twinkling at the sight of his old crush and family friend. "Of course she didn't miss you, Bruce!" Richard grinned, sweeping down the stairs and going over to kiss Mina's hand as well. "It was me she was dying to see, I'm sure!"

Mina laughed again, kissing Richard on the cheek. "Of course I missed you, Dickie!" her bubbly voice made his insides feel warm as her cool lips grazed his face. "I've been asking Bruce-y here for ages when you were planning on coming back for a visit. He is awfully dull without you here to challenge his authority, I daresay!" All the men laughed at her words and Richard shook his head playfully. "Please, Mina, I go by Richard now," he mumbled. "I haven't gone by that dreadful nickname in so long. I'm not a boy anymore, you know!" "Oho, I did notice," Mina replied, her eyes shining with mischief. "But I'm afraid you will always be that curious and oddly grown-up little boy to me." She ignored the slight fall in Richard's smile and had them all follow her into the drawing room, Alfred leaving them briefly to go and bring them some tea and cakes.

They all settled into the comfortable couches surrounding the fireplace, entertaining themselves with small pleasantries as they waited for Alfred to return with the tea. Once he had, of course, the air changed immediately and the three old friends settled into an easy atmosphere. "So what does bring you here, Mina?" Richard asked, going for a serious tone. Mina looked at both of them from over her teacup, knowing full well that these men always noticed every little, subtle detail… well almost every one. Mina set her cup down and smoothed out the emerald green silk dress she had on and then ran her delicate, porcelain hands through her wavy mane of ruby-red hair. Everything was so violently colored on her, but it worked well with her personality, which was why she got along so well will the millionaire men. Richard took a second to notice how she seemed to have never changed in the entire time he had known Ms. Harker, never looking older, never looking younger, but always looking very lovely and enchanting.

"I hear," Mina began, snapping them out of their reverie. "That you lot have been down to Whitechapel this morning so I figured I would stop by and see what you had come up with." "Oh please, Mina!" Bruce scoffed, eyeing her playfully. "I'm not sure how you always seem to know everything about everyone, but I don't think our business there is something for you to hear. It won't interest you in the least." Mina smirked, her eyes looking very knowledgeable suddenly before they were filled with mirth once again. "On the contrary, Bruce," she replied. "It interests me greatly. I merely came over to see if you all had come to the same conclusion as the truth, is all." Richard furrowed his brow at her words, wondering what she was getting at; just what did she think was the truth about that poor girl's murder?

Bruce seemed to be sharing the same thoughts as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And just what," he asked sternly. "Do you think the truth is?" Like Richard, he thought Mina was playing games and that she could not possibly have known what had happened over at that grisly scene. "Simple," she said, picking up her cup again to take a sip as she judged their reactions. "Poor girl was killed by a vampire." Bruce nearly choked on his own breath at these words and Richard just sat there, stone-faced. Bruce seemed to be weighing his next words very carefully. "I take it you have been talking to Miss Desiree?" Bruce finally asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. Richard had completely forgotten about the dark vision he had seen this morning and he was stunned into silence at the thought of her once more. Mina's eyes went back and forth between the two dashing men, surveying their reactions with a thoughtful countenance.

"You're talking about that woman from this morning?" Richard asked when he could clear his head somewhat. "The one who was speaking with Commissioner Gordon at the precinct?" "Oh, so you have met Desiree?" Mina asked, her eyes growing slightly larger. "I thought maybe Victor had been mistaken when he told me." "Victor?" Richard asked, confused. "No, no we haven't met, not really. I merely saw her and her, erm, company talking to Gordon this morning. But I haven't met her, officially, no…" Mina just smiled and turned her attentions back to the elder man. "Why do you sound so annoyed by Desiree's suggestion, Bruce? I thought the two of you got along quite well?" "Miss Desiree and I get along fine," Bruce grunted. "I think she is a very intelligent and thought-provoking woman. I find her stories to be very entertaining and I think that her conviction is what makes them so."

"Stories?" Mina questioned, her eyes glazing over in harshness neither man had ever seen her express. "So now she is telling stories, is she? You didn't seem to think they were such frivolous stories before! Why has that changed?" "Now Mina," Bruce said, setting his cup down again and standing up. "I don't mean to upset you but I've never actually fancied her stories as truthful. I think they make her travels seem more profitable to have gained all those myths, but I think that the idea of something supernatural attacking that woman is absolutely bizarre!" Mina glared at him and turned her attention to the younger one. "And what of you, Richard?" she asked meanly. "What do you think? Are you as close-minded as your uncle here?" Bruce scoffed as Richard mulled her question over. "Well, I've never actually met Miss Desiree nor have I heard her stories, er, claims, or whatever they are. And I don't really know what to think of this theory of… of vampires, either. I mean, it's a rather odd case and it could fit, what with the draining of blood and the wounds around her neck. I do agree that there are some… unnatural………… things out there, but I haven't considered that to be the case here. It could possibly be, but I truly haven't considered all the options yet."

Richard finished rather sheepishly as Mina's gaze softened and Bruce looked besmirching at his nephew. "Anything for a pretty woman, huh?" Bruce remarked, heading for the open door. "Ah, to be young and naïve once again. If you'll excuse me for a moment, I have to meet with the cooks to discuss dinner. Will you be joining us tonight, Mina?" She paused, considering his offer, and then shook her head. "I'm sorry, Bruce, but not tonight. I already have plans for dinner. Desiree has invited me over." She stared at Bruce, daring him to make another comment. He did nothing, though, and just nodded. "One of these days, Mina Harker, I will get you to agree to dinner with us. All these years and we've never shared more than a few cups of tea here and there," Bruce commented before he left for the kitchens. As soon as he was gone, Mina turned her gaze back upon Richard.

"Were you being truthful, Dickie?" she asked with a new, determined fire in her eyes. "Are you more open to… other… possibilities than your dear uncle?" Richard squirmed under her hard watch. "Yes, yes I suppose I am," he admitted, being quite truthful. "Whether it is one of those possibilities this time, I cannot say for sure, but I can't deny the odd circumstances surrounding the case." She nodded at his words, seeming to consider a new path. "Would you like to join me for dinner?" she asked suddenly, pinning him there with her look. "Dinner?" he responded, taken aback by the offer. "I thought you said you had plans?" "I do," she said, draining the last of her tea and beckoning him to walk her out. "Well I wouldn't want to intrude. Maybe some other time?" Richard offered, telling Alfred to let Bruce know he was seeing Mina out.

Mina shrugged as Alfred gave her bag and coat to Richard to help her with before attending to Bruce in the kitchens. They walked the short way to the door and Richard helped her put her coat on and once again, felt intimidated as she stared at him. "No, come, please," she whispered again, smiling somewhat. "Your mind is more open than Bruce's and I think you would benefit from this dinner. Desiree seems to be quite taken with you already, seeing as how you two have never even met. I really think you should meet her and hear what she has to say." She paused and cupped his warm, blushing face in her refreshingly cool hands as they walked outside and waited for her carriage to pull up to the door. "She is really very knowledgeable," Mina urged, her tone very serious. "You would do well to meet her and have a chat. You might learn quite a bit that you didn't know before."

Mina winked as she got into the carriage and handed Richard a piece of paper with an address in nearby Chelsea, an hour's ride or so away. Mina waved goodbye and her carriage sauntered off, leaving Richard standing in the doorway, pondering her cryptic words. He was more intrigued by what Mina had said than anything else today and the possibility of meeting that alluring woman from town was almost too good to pass up. He walked back inside and could hear Bruce calling for him from the kitchen, asking about which wine he would like with dinner this evening. Now, he thought, I just need to find a way to let Bruce down easy, back out of dinner, and see if he'd at least let me borrow a horse. Tonight, Detective Grayson was going to dine just over on the outskirts of Chelsea.