The pale man stood in the equally pale moonlight, imposing his weight on the cane sword in front of him. Both hands rested on the Victorian skull pommel, six ringed fingers glistening like eyes in the Dark watching the never-sleeping city below through the 12th floor window.
Most nights, Waylon watches Mordhaven with an inquisitive stare, studying everything and pondering each source of light or noise.
Tonight, he simply gazes with a smile.
Suddenly, Joshua Mitchell enters the office. His presence was felt while he was still in the elevator coming up.
“Regent Royce,” the newly-turned initiate calls nervously.
The man otherwise known as Waylon simply turns just enough to meet Josh’s eyes, freezing him in his tracks several feet away.
“Ms. Crawford called. She wanted to notify you that she is leaving for the Highlands and will be gone for a few weeks.”
“She has my number. Why did she call the Pinnacle and not me directly?”
“I was thinking that too, Boss. Isn’t Scotland also having those scary ass floods right now? Its weird timing, as well. Want me to send some guys to her place?”
“No. I’ll investigate myself. Fetch Jaurez. You two are coming with me.”
Joshua shifts his stance a bit.
“You think it’s hunters again?”
Waylon turns back to the sprawling view before him.
“The Auditorium has been getting reports recently of cult activity in the city. No Cloud deaths so far, but the rate and ferocity of a slew of connected murders worries both the Mayor and me.”
“What connects them?” Josh asks shyly.
Regent Royce slowly spins, pulls a file out from the large rosewood desk next to him, and firmly places it on top facing his childe, who hesitantly steps forward and opens it.
“That symbol, always drawn in the victim’s blood on some surface near them. A calling card. Or something ritualistic in nature.”
Mitchell stares at the photograph for a long moment before beginning to sift through the police case file.
“So this is what keeping the city’s mortal leadership in your pocket gets you. I’ll stop complaining about the size of your donations, Boss.”
“Its easier than killing her. Although I’m always willing to discuss different business terms should she no longer wish to be our ally.”
“This city doesn’t need another right-wing blowhard, anyways.”
The regent stands his cane against the desk to pour two glasses of bloody whiskey and slides one to Mitchell, who throws it back in earnest before picking up another photograph of a bloody symbol.
“The same one every time,” the childe affirms.
“I’m having Theresa look into it now. She has narrowed down one thing so far. It’s why I brought this up.”
“And that is?”
“Human or bloodkin, their modus operandi points to Scottish origins or, at the least, affiliations.”
Joshua’s soulless eyes widen.
“It can’t be a coincidence.”
“Its not, my friend. Start the car after you get Jaurez.”
The young man begins heading towards the door.
“What ties to a fucking cult could Alice have?”
“No willing ones,” the Regent responds, unsheathing and inspecting his cane blade in the moonlight through the glass.
“And that’s why their time is nigh.”