He moved easily, quickly in the shadows, black hair brushing his shoulders as he crept across the roof of the abandoned warehouse. The moon was full and the gathering would have been going on. He could feel the power of the old ones and even his old pack, the traitors, the false pretenders to the crown of all shifters. They couldn't feel him because he'd seen to it. With an easy grace, he leapt from one building to another, his body covering the alley below like some flying shadow. Around him stretched a boundless array of possible escapes, if he'd been in the mood to run. The old docks district, riverfront, held a plethora of abandoned buildings with warehouses and gutted factories lining the waterfront under the oppressive shadow of the Casino district, which laid just across the river. He glanced at the vampire haven and it's casinos with narrowed, amber eyes. They would have their day as well, but first, Ian and his pack would pay. There were more pressing matters immediately, however, as he'd scented a human that had strayed into their territory.
They were just down the street from a line of night clubs, which meant it might have been one of their more inebriated patrons. No one left that area sober. His muscles bunched and relaxed along his back and arms as he scented the human, a female, and tasted her heartbeat on the air. She wasn't scared, which confused Keadon Argyle to no end. A smirk curved upward, framed meticulously with a goatee, as he realized that the human may not know what she'd gotten herself into. He was willing to bet that the lack of fear would have to mean naivety or ignorance. Without a sound, he fell into a push up position; his hands perched on the edge of the rooftop he'd leapt onto. His straight hair spilled forward to frame his face like black curtains as he watched her move down the alley below him. He needn't look far for his brothers. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were there, waiting, waiting for him to make the first move.
His feet made the barest of sounds as he dropped from the rooftop and landed on the pavement. He straightened himself easily and walked casually down the middle of the alley as if he owned it. As far as he was concerned, he did own it. His movements were graceful in leather pants so tight they looked painted on. His feet were bare on the pavement as he walked over all manner of scattered debris, including broken glass and nails. Keadon had stopped sweating the small stuff when every day became a struggle for his life. His brothers, three of the four, fell in line with him, melting outwards from the shadows and falling in line behind and to either side of him as they approached the woman without a sound.
All three were bare from the waist up, but Keadon was the only one whose body was marked with a crescent moon tattoo on his left pec, small and upturned above a silver nipple ring. The man at his right was auburn haired and tall, muscular but not enough that he looked as if he lifted weights. Conner, even at a shorter height of five foot ten, was thicker in the shoulders, chest and legs. The third was pale skinned with hair so blonde it looked as if it had been bleached several times and then left in the sun. He was the only other one with jewelry in obvious places, a stud of silver through his nose. When Keadon stopped several steps from the woman, the other two stopped as well, six pairs of amber eyes intent upon her as they sniffed the air. Keadon was the first to speak.
"You are surely lost," he said, the barest hint of an Irish accent playing deep in his throat.
Gloria knew the informant was supposed to be here. This was the right alley. This was the right night, the right time. She stopped and turned to glance behind her. There was that feeling of being watched. It prickled against her skin like some kind of internal radar. Gloria Velasquez was many things, but she always trusted her intuition. It was telling her that someone was near and each movement was being noted. She couldn't see anything though; the alley appeared just as it had when she walked down it, empty except for the trash and the shadows. Shaking her head she turned and continued down the alley way. A casual movement brought her hands up and under her jacket as if she were a little chilled from waiting so long outside.
The tip had come in the day previous and she had been the lucky one to get the job of coming out and meeting the woman. It could have been a trick, but the person had sounded sincere, frightened and was seeking to exchange information for their personal safety from what they had described as a group of blood thirsty monsters that were after her. She lifted her face upwards and stared at the large moon that hung in the sky. The pale surface was much like an eye staring balefully down at her. Uncaring and unconcerned that Gloria was out at the docks instead of home, warm and content. Her fingers curled slowly around the butt of her gun in her shoulder holster as she lowered her head to look ahead of her once more.
Those dark eyes sought out the woman that was supposed to be there and wondering if the reason for her absence was, that it was too late and whatever she had been running from had already gotten her. Approaching the end of the alley she came to a stop and looked out over the river. The gleaming lights of the casino shone back at her a beacon in the darkness. Gloria felt a shiver a disgust crawl across her spine. If she had her way that whole island would be sunk. It was a permanent reminder of how far they had to go before this city was free of the supernaturals that lived in it.
The voice made her turn. She did so slowly, casually, but those dark brown eyes narrowed slightly as she saw what waited for her. She had expected a woman and instead had gotten three men. Each of them looked different, yet there were some features that appeared similar. She looked at the other two and then let her gaze focus on the one that had spoken. The hand upon her gun tightened slowly as she gave them a look that was clearly chastising. Her tone was without accent and held a superior note in it.
"Let me guess, you are here to help me find my way back." She let her gaze drag over him purposefully and then finally return to his eyes. "Thank you, but I'll pass."
She noted the lack of shoes, lack of attire and might have written them off as homeless, if not for the power that clung to them and the way their eyes seemed to almost shine. Lush lips compressed into a thin line as she turned and began walking away from the three of them, taking a right and heading along the dock front. There was no fear in her attitude, there was annoyance as if they had done something wrong and she was restraining herself from taking action against them.
"I know my way home." She tossed over her shoulder as if dismissing them. Her thumb slowly eased the safety off of her weapon as she moved. She had left work and come to meet the informant and hadn't changed from work. The knee length skirt didn't allow her very large steps, but she stretched her legs to make her walk a brisk one. The jacket she wore was loose but it clearly showed the white dress shirt that was worn beneath it. She wasn't exactly dressed to take on three supernaturals and while Gloria Velasquez was a brave woman, she wasn't stupid. Tactical retreat and a filed report on the encounter would take care of them as soon as a team could be organized.
They disappeared from sight as soon as she turned away from them, three figures disappearing into the darkness of the alleys. The peroxide blonde was the first to appear in front of her, his stance easy as he leaned back into his posture and gave her a smile. He was smaller than the other two, thinner with skin so pale it was almost translucent in the light of the full moon. The stud in his nose glimmered with the moonlight and a brownish tint from the light of his pale, amber eyes. "My, my, what long legs ya' have," he said with his smile drifting into a smirk. His accent was purer Irish than the man that had spoken previously, his Hibernian tone carrying softer vowels and harder consonants until his words flowed in a lyrical sort of way. "What's a nice lass like you doin' in a place like this?" His smirk remained, though it became more of a leer as his eyes moved over her body, his tongue dipping outward to moisten his lips.
