Bloodlust
Marya Werdegast stood before the window of her office, dark eyes peering cautiously through a gap in the blinds. Beyond the towering starscrapers of Fondor, dawn was an orange glow on the horizon. The Senator of Necropolis had worked all night, signing documents and planning an upcoming fundraiser. She had planned to return home before the sun rose, as was her habit, but she had run a little bit overtime.
Turning away from the window, she released the blind. It fell into place with a soft clink, while she muttered a curse under her breath. More than the sunrise had her nerves fraying around the edges tonight. She had much to be thankful for, certainly. Between the tragic violent death of her father and her main political rival being left comatose, her fortunes had been rather good as of late. But just when all of her machinations had begun to pay off, and every piece seemed ready to fall into place, a new obstacle presented itself. Her niece
Thelma Goth
, whose existence she had been completely unaware of until the reading of her father's will, had inexplicably inherited the family business. Marya was still in the process of remedying that issue when she discovered that not only had her assassins failed to eliminate all of her father's made men, but that perhaps the most dangerous of them all, the sorcerer Byron Devorak, had not only survived the purge but had thrown his lot in with Thelma. With his backing, the little girl had actual clout in the underworld. She posed a genuine threat to Marya's power.
And she was supposed to have died tonight, but the reports trickling in so far were not good. They had yet to find her remains among the blasted ruins of her shop, or the remains of any of her known associates. It looked as if they had escaped her trap, slipping through Marya's fingers yet again.
She pushed these thoughts aside as she put on her cloak, signaling to her aide that she was ready to go as she pulled up her hood. Patience was a virtue she had been forced to learn the value of, and she had centuries of practice in the art of waiting. Her time would come. For now, she needed rest...
"Lady Marya." Her aide hissed, returning earlier than expected. "There are men waiting for you outside. They look like police."
Marya raised an eyebrow. This was to be expected. The authorities had good reason to suspect her involvement, but she was always careful to cover her tracks and pay off any witnesses. They never had enough evidence to convict her of a crime. With a sigh, she mentally prepared herself for what was likely to be a tedious next few hours of questioning. "Did they see you?" she asked.
"No, my lady."
"Then we will wait for them to come to us."
Turning away from the window, she released the blind. It fell into place with a soft clink, while she muttered a curse under her breath. More than the sunrise had her nerves fraying around the edges tonight. She had much to be thankful for, certainly. Between the tragic violent death of her father and her main political rival being left comatose, her fortunes had been rather good as of late. But just when all of her machinations had begun to pay off, and every piece seemed ready to fall into place, a new obstacle presented itself. Her niece
Thelma Goth
, whose existence she had been completely unaware of until the reading of her father's will, had inexplicably inherited the family business. Marya was still in the process of remedying that issue when she discovered that not only had her assassins failed to eliminate all of her father's made men, but that perhaps the most dangerous of them all, the sorcerer Byron Devorak, had not only survived the purge but had thrown his lot in with Thelma. With his backing, the little girl had actual clout in the underworld. She posed a genuine threat to Marya's power.And she was supposed to have died tonight, but the reports trickling in so far were not good. They had yet to find her remains among the blasted ruins of her shop, or the remains of any of her known associates. It looked as if they had escaped her trap, slipping through Marya's fingers yet again.
She pushed these thoughts aside as she put on her cloak, signaling to her aide that she was ready to go as she pulled up her hood. Patience was a virtue she had been forced to learn the value of, and she had centuries of practice in the art of waiting. Her time would come. For now, she needed rest...
"Lady Marya." Her aide hissed, returning earlier than expected. "There are men waiting for you outside. They look like police."
Marya raised an eyebrow. This was to be expected. The authorities had good reason to suspect her involvement, but she was always careful to cover her tracks and pay off any witnesses. They never had enough evidence to convict her of a crime. With a sigh, she mentally prepared herself for what was likely to be a tedious next few hours of questioning. "Did they see you?" she asked.
"No, my lady."
"Then we will wait for them to come to us."
