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Elizabeth had always enjoyed music. She'd enjoyed the musicians too, of course, they were always a fine vintage, but there was something to the music itself. There was something of it that she so enjoyed. The art of listening was exactly that. An art. And though the music had changed over the centuries the art, the act, of listening had not.
The band tonight was playing a deep, throbbing beat which one felt and listened to with one's entire body. To listen to it was like taking a bath. Sinking into the music as one would into the warm, scented waters. Standing behind the bar, Elizabeth rested her hands palms down on it's glossy surface and let her body sway with the beat, her motions inherently seductive and drawing the eye of man and woman alike.
Closing her eyes she let the sense of the place wash over her. The energies and essences of mortal and vampire alike mingled and collided creating a maelstrom and for the vampires, a sensual onslaught. The club was a popular one. Atlantis drew all to her doors. Young, old, uninhibited, repressed, none resisted it and all bathed in it's energies. For the vampires it was a feeding ground, a source of the best vintages in the city, for the mortals a place whispered of pleasures and debauchery for which it had become legend. It was hers and Elizabeth was proud of it. She had worked hard among her fellows to make it what it was and she was pleased to see it had accomplished much.
All without drawing undo attention.
Much anyway.
She had learned in her many centuries of vampirism how do what needed to be done. Who to turn, who to control, and who to remove from the picture entirely. If done with care and caution it was possible to remain unnoticed and Elizabeth had learned well the art of invisibility.
A familiar sense intruded upon her moment and she opened her eyes slowly to find an equally familiar man standing before the bar. Detective John Sheppard. She smiled, lips curving up slowly into a predatory grin. If she had a favorite mortal amongst the regulars to her club it was this one. This one who walked among her kind unafraid. Taunting and teasing and entrancing them all. Many would have enjoyed to take a taste but none dared. Elizabeth had marked him as hers in all the ways which mattered and though she was generous with her gifts, she was deadly with her punishments.
"I didn't expect to see you tonight." She sighed out, reaching beneath the bar for a glass. "I thought you couldn't come."
He grinned, leaning on the bar, drawing her eye to the strength hidden beneath his far too simple suit coat and reminding her of the life which coursed through his veins and the taste of it exploding across her tongue. "Maybe I couldn't stay away."
"Maybe?" She said with a moue of disappointment, setting his drink before him. "John, really, I'm hurt."
"No you aren't." He countered smoothly, reaching for her hand instead of the drink, turning it over and tracing a pattern in her palm. "You knew I'd be here."
Elizabeth smiled, the smile hinting at fang, her eyes glowing ever so slightly and eliciting the desired reaction in him. He could hide it from the others but she could feel the shudder of excitement that raced through him. "I did." She tilted her head slightly, thick dark curls tumbling with the movement. "But you aren't here now because you want to be." She frowned a bit and withdrew. "They - "
He nodded. "We should talk in the back."
She scowled but couldn't disagree. This was a discussion not meant for mortal, or vampiric, ears and best left for privacy. Turning, she led him along the bar and through the ornate door which led to the lushly decorated office that was her abode at work. She settled into the chair behind her desk, sinking into the soft, rich fabric of the seat. "Tell me." She demanded, her tone taking on the imperious edge that her status in the vampiric community bequeathed her. "What have the Wraith done now?"
There were levels to their existence; a hierarchy of sorts. Or, better still, an evolutionary ladder. A ladder upon which Elizabeth, and her kind, reigned supreme. Deadly as they were, they were everything the vampire lore prized. Elegant, sensual, and otherworldly in their beauty, but not so for others. Beneath them rested the others, growing progressively worse with each step down, farther from humanity and closer to animal. Demon.
Somewhere in the midst of the worst rested the Wraith. The Wraith were inhuman, vicious creatures who gave no thought to the concerns of their betters. They paid no mind to the attention of mortals, feeding when they wished, hunting where they wished, and killing without thought.
Unlike the Wraith, Elizabeth, and those who followed her, knew better. To be so foolhardy was to invite death. Most mortals on their own were not a threat. En masse, however, they were absolutely deadly and, thanks to some, well-versed in the vulnerabilities of the vampire life.
And so between the two the war raged on with mortals caught in the middle as spoil.
"Street kids." John admitted. "A lot of them. We've had over ten, close to twenty, killed in the last two days." He pulled out a picture and presented it to her for her perusal. "Given the location and the savagery of the kills -- "
She accepted it and took a careful look, her eyes flashing gold with her rage. "Wraith."
When the Wraith were involved, Elizabeth did little to restrain her beast. She enjoyed the game, enjoying the art and elegance of the deception. It was as much a part of the dance as the feeding itself, though darker and more concealed.
It was a part they dared not let the mortals in their midst see. Their mortal fellows, the people from whom they often fed, were spared such savagery. The realities of the vampires they thought But now, in this, John had been accepted and given far greater trust by Elizabeth than any mortal before him.
Crumpling the picture, she threw it aside and met his gaze. "We will attend to it. Teyla and Ronon have seen far too little of the fight lately." Her smile was faint as she said, "They're growing restless."
It was not a lie. The war with the Wraith stretched back centuries, those most experienced in the fight often grew restless and ill-tempered without it. There were nights when it became difficult to keep them from it. Tonight, it seemed, was her night to battle the blood lust.
"Well this came along at just the right time." John agreed. His tone was flippant, an ill-disguised attempt at lightening her mood. She appreciated the effort. Though he enjoyed hiding behind a devil-may-care facade, she knew better. She had told him of the war, more than she had told any other mortal, and he well knew the tempest raging with in her. Just as much as he knew the explosive consequences the Wraith's actions invited.
It was, after all, why he had brought this to her.
Deciding to humor him, and respect his gesture, Elizabeth favored him with a softer smile. "I suppose." Rising, she circled the desk and rested hands on his shoulders. A change of subject was not a bad idea. They both needed the respite from business. She leaned in, enjoying the warmth of his living form. "You look tired."
"You don't," commented John. "That dress, is it new?" She watched him turn, taking in the silk fabric covering her skin with an appreciative eye. The desire that radiated off him in waves could not be ignored easily, not that she cared to try. It was how it was between them. The fires banked long enough to deal with the business at hand before springing to life once more. "I like."
"A gift." Elizabeth didn't elaborate further, it was wiser not to. The gift had come from Koyla, the master of another family within the city. John had once had the unfortunate luck of landing himself in the middle of a disagreement between them and, well, she was in no mood to introduce him to it again. John had barely survived the last time, had thought her dead and had nearly gone on a war against her whole race.
Even now, Koyla complained of the soldiers John had killed. Vampires that had been in his service for centuries. She felt little concern for his dithering but, nevertheless, she did not wish to see John harmed for them. So, she avoided further mention and saved the argument for another night. There were other concerns to be dealt with after all. More pleasant ones by far. "You like it hmm?" Without waiting for an answer, she rubbed his shoulders and frowned in disapproval. "You are far too tense."
"Hazard of the job."
"Hmm...so you say." She circled the chair again, settling herself down into his lap. "You should take better care, John." She smiled as he tried to suppress a hiss of pleasure as she made herself comfortable. "We don't want you working yourself into exhaustion." She leaned over, taking the scent of him and smiling. "There are more pleasant ways of achieving that if you wish..."
He rested his hands on her hips, squeezing just a little, as she skimmed along his neck, lips playing over the skin. "Got any particular one in mind?"
"A few," agreed Elizabeth, nipping and drawing her first taste. In fact, she had many and they would engage the night in them. The Wraith would be dealt with in their own time and in her own way. She had just enough of their recklessness and she doubted a consultation with the others of her station in the Community would disagree. Patience with the actions of the Wraith was thinning and a full-scale conflict was inevitable. Wars among their kind of such nature were rare but they did happen and she had survived many, she would survive this one as well. In fact, if she conducted herself well, and handled things the way in which they needed to be handled and the number of those under her command grew...
She could increase her dominion threefold. Elizabeth did not openly court or seek power but she would not turn it away when it landed at her door. The thought pleased her and she smiled.
Her lips tightened, John's grip eased, and both groaned in pleasure as the sharing began.
Elizabeth give orders before daybreak and her soldiers would break forth into a hunt. The Wraith responsible for the killings would be brought before the Council and dealt with. The message would be sent. The gauntlet thrown down.
War.
And so it would begin.