The rain had been pouring consistently for two days making normally gothic town of Haven look even darker. Its grey stone walls and dark cobbled streets glistened as the endless raindrops hammered against their aged, smooth facades. This suited her fine. Her mood, too, was dark. She stood shivering under the sheltered canopy of a bar and smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, taking deep inhalations. On the outside the bar blended well into the rest of the street --with a closed down liquor store on one side and a creepy alleyway on the other -- inside, the bar was quite unique. The door opened and music filled the deep emptiness of the street as a man stepped out, lighting a cigarette.
"Nice night for it, eh?" He commented with a drawl. She merely nodded and continued to smoke silently. He was only human, probably enamoured by someone that wasn't.
The streetlight cast a shadow over her beautiful porcelain face, hiding the colour of her petrol green eyes, eyes which had been known to stop hearts. Her long wavy hair was the colour of rich, dark chocolate and if one were to press one's nose to it, the unmistakeable smell of cocoa seemed to waft right into one's brain. Unfortunately, the man was unable to appreciate her tresses as they were partially hidden by a wide-brimmed hat with all manner of feathers and buttons attached to it from all corners of the world, each with their own story and adventure attached to it. Just under her thick leather jacket, around her delicate, milky neck was all manner of jewellery, an egg-sized green emerald blinking lustrously beneath wooden beads and silver crosses.
The man's gaze lowered down her body taking quick note of a black band t-shirt, moving down her shapely thighs and legs in leather trousers that looked like they were spray-painted on. Finally he took in her blood-red cowboy boots which were caked in mud. He looked up with a lopsided grin.
"New in town?"
"Something like that." She replied without turning to face him.
She took one last deep drag and flicked the cigarette into the gutter where it sputtered and got washed away by the rain. She tightened her black leather biker jacket around her body, fighting the cold wind. Taking a deep calming breath she looked out onto the eerily quiet street, one way then the other and prepared herself for what was about to happen. In about half a minute she was going to come face to face with a person that had consumed her thoughts and dreams for over a decade. In about thirty seconds the bar called Limbo was about to come face to face with one of the most dangerous women in Europa. She was also one of the most patient and now after years of waiting she was about to complete her mission. She gently touched her jacket pocket in which the worn letter that contained the name of her enemy, the man that had killed her whole family and annihilated all that she held dear was kept safely hidden. She kept it by heart, like a secret. She shook her head in attempt to shake away the memories but they would always remain there, haunting her to the end. The day she received the mysterious letter revealing the answer to all her prayers was the day she packed her belongings and ran from the stifling tyranny of the nuns of St. Claudius and began her quest for ultimate knowledge and strength. She was fifteen years old then and now a woman standing on the quiet street of Haven. All those years of pain and fear, of loneliness and utter despair, finally she knew she could take all the pain away with on swift move.
She removed her hat, shook her hair briefly and readjusted it onto her head, the rings on her fingers glinting in the golden streetlight. She put on the smile that had made several young virile men completely legless and turned to the smoking stranger.
"I think tonight's going to be a good night" She said almost evilly, sending chills down the man's spine, that he could not place as either lust nor fear but perhaps both. Before he could say another word she had stepped into thumping darkness of the bar. It was called Limbo but little did anyone know, Selena St. Claire was about to introduce to them to hell.
Inside the bar, it was less quiet and a lot more crowded. Beautiful, lithe -- some winged, some scaled -- bodies moved in rhythm to bass heavy electronic music, eyes were shut in ecstasy and mouth met mouth, necks, and shoulders in sweaty sexy dance. Girls were scantily clad and gyrating to the music while their male counter-parts tried to act cool moving only when faced with the possibility of a curved body part touching them. On the other side of the large atrium was a long dark wood bar where three ethereals served tongue- and boxer-tied customers alike. Behind them were hundreds of bottles of different shapes and colours all containing liquids that could bring a men and women to their knees and face their eternal damnation. Customers with lust-filled eyes lit the bar, their fingers straining at their glasses wanting nothing more than to reach over the long bar to touch the nymphs. Further along, a bodyguard stood outside a staircase that led upstairs to a VIP room occupied by melancholy sadness and anger his bitter friend. Two men stood side-by-side watching the scene below with expressionless faces. One was the proprietor, the other his right-hand man. Neither spoke just watched the night evolve before their eyes. After centuries of existence, both men had learned to respect silence and when either of them were forced to speak their words were few but weighty.
Alexander had lived through every possible social progression and destruction. He had seen the rise and fall of mountains and men and watched as the seas slowly ate away at ancient lands. He had witnessed the ferocity of love and passion and seen the calm chill of hatred. He had tasted the blood of his enemies and lovers alike and enjoyed both immensely and with equal pleasure. He had bedded whores and princesses and found eager pleasure in mouths of saints. There was very little Alexander had not done and that was his very undoing. Filled with the ennui of eternity he had lost the sight that only mortality can bring, like seeing things in colour once again. He watched the bodies move sensually against each other and gave an almost imperceptible frown. Something about the evening had him slightly apprehensive as if the devil himself was coming to claim him. He ran his hand through thick black hair that fell to his chin and over his eyes. It looked almost dark blue in the dark light of the bar. His thick eyebrows of the same colour framed his ice-blue eyes, like huskies' eyes containing a ring of magic that only the most observant of people will recognise as a real curse. The years had been kind only because he had avoided them completely and like any other vampire one would find in the world he was impossibly beautiful, not handsome but beautiful, as though the Creator himself carved him out of smooth white marble. He was very tall, wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped and every part of his sculpted form was draped in an expensive black Zegna suit. Under it he wore a crisp white shirt with a just the hint of a chain hanging under its collar.
Limbo had been his for the best part of a century and he was allowed to do so because of the very special ground Limbo stood on, what human beings would understand as neutral. No magic could be performed on the ground and thus it was like one big scrambler which no creature to date had been able to bypass. No one had ever dared to. First erected by the permission of the Council his predecessor, his father of sorts, Aristos agreed to maintain the neutrality and protect the holy ground it stood on. Aristos taught Alexander everything he knew about the world, philosophy, love and magic before he then died, leaving him Limbo. At first he shunned the bar and left it to be managed by whoever was willing -- and still alive -- to run it. A number of years later after the rivers of bloodshed had dried and there was uneasy peace amongst the all the creatures of the day and night he returned to the bar a hero and renewed it to its former glory, the magic sensing its master. He and Valko, his brother, his friend and his general, had never looked back since and after Alexander received the crown -- an unexpected move made by King Viktor at his deathbed as a personal gift for his loyalty in the war-- there was nothing that was more powerful than the man and King that owned Limbo.
Valko stood tall and proud with short hair so blonde it was almost silver. His shoulders were set, his arms crossed and bulging under his black, double-breasted suit. He had been at Alexander's side for almost a millennium but boredom was not an affliction he understood. Alexander, on the other hand, only a few years younger had recently been plagued by over the years, cynicism and bitterness getting the best of him. He shot a brief glance at the man he knew as his brother and who he respected as his king and looked away again. He wondered if Alexander could smell it, that distinct smell in the air...like nothing he had ever smelt before. He shivered.
Downstairs, Selena slid fluidly into one of the unoccupied bar stools and signalled to a flame-haired beauty.
"What can I do for you?" The nymph floated to face her, her flaming eyes mischievous as they were dangerous. She licked her lips and eyed her customer appreciatively. "Better yet, what can I do you for?" She ran her milky white hands over Selena's arm eliciting tiny Goosebumps.
"Double vodka. On the rocks. Clean glass." The woman replied calmly, as if unaffected by the nymph's touch. With a flash of her fiery eyes the she poured the vodka into a glass filled with ice, chucking in a slice of lime for good measure and slammed it onto the table in front of her. No one was impervious to her beauty. No one.
"Anything else?" There was venom dripping off each word. Selena did not look up but merely reached into her class, picking out the slice of lime and threw it over her shoulder nonchalantly.
"Who owns this establishment?" She was quite aware who the proprietor was. His name was practically tattooed on her brain.
