The Story of Ms. Renfield (On Hold)

Chapter Three: Teatime

Later that day at the Seattle Best Tea, just minutes before 4pm...

"Lord Holmwood?" Jordan asked the sharpy dressed man who looked quite out of place. He was sitting at a small wooden table inside the establishment. He was sunny blond with striking blue eyes. The navy suit fit him well. His features were pleasing to look at with his roman nose and strong chin. Smooth cheeks and a groomed mustache. He stood up at her presence from his seat. "I am Jordan Renfield." She held out her hand to him.

"I am sorry. I was not expecting someone as lovely as you." He smiled, showing off his straight white teeth. His accent was of the London elite. "Yes, I am Lord Holmwood. Please, call me Anthony." He took her hand and rise it to kiss her knuckles. Jordan slipped her hand from his grasp before his lips could touch her skin.

"You are flirtatious. Something I do not allow when working with clients. We are here for business and business only." Jordan announced while motioning for the tea set up that she ordered in advance to be bought to the table. "Now, let us enjoy the tea and talk business."

"You have boundaries. I like that." His smile was not as bright as before. His facial expression told of his lying. He moved to pull out her chair, but she had her hand already on it, pulling it from the table. He resumed his seat. "Yes, we are looking for property in the area. Enough space to build a lab unless a building fitting our needs can be found."

"Before we get to that. I am curious. Why did you choose my law office. Mr. Persons said that you asked for me personally." Jordan asked as their tea was rolled to the table on a cart. Jordan warmly thanked the employee.

"Well, it is your history of providing the best for your clients. Your family must have done something right to hold that one foundation for over a hundred years. The Blake Foundation?" Anthony asked as she poured herself a cup of tea. She handed the pot over to him.

"The Drake Foundation. Yes, it has been a symbiotic relationship over the years." Jordan stated, bringing the cup to her rose painted lips. "Now, why ask for me?" She was blunt for her asking.

"My family had a disastrous dealing with a Renfield back in the late 1890s. A solicitor actually. Just curious if you are related to him." There was a touch of venom in the words. His stare was a bit colder now. "It was a very unfortunate thing."

"Raeford Morton Renfield. R.M for short" Jordan voiced, watching the man's eyebrow to go up. "An ancestor of mine who mental state deteriorated, leaving his family humiliated and shamed while he was housed in an asylum until his horrific passing." Jordan let her own words have a cutting edge to them.

"Do you know how he died?" Anthony set his cup down. Two men, probably in their late twenties, with bubble teas rested themselves at the table across from them. Casual dress in jeans and plain t-shirts, nondescriptive features. African American with shoulder touching black locks while the other was a Caucasian with short brown hair and a tidy beard. They were part of Vlad's security team. Jordan felt herself more at ease.

"He bludgeoned himself across the stone walls and bars of his cell. Choking to death on his own blood." Jordan recanted the story of the tragic end of her ancestor. Well, the story that people were told. "That was why William risked taking his young family across the ocean, to the wilds of Washington. To not be associated with the family ties of a lunatic." Jordan finished her tea. "If you are simply here to make me grudge up my family's dark past, then have a good day. Find another firm for your business dealings" Jordan rose from her chair to make an exit.

Anthony's hand shot out, grabbing her wrist to stop her. "Please, forgive me. That was not my intention." Anthony voiced, his words wavering. "It is just odd to see that name. My family has a dark past as well." He released her wrist. Unnoticed by Anthony, the men were posed, ready to strike to the recuse code word or gesture from Jordan.

Jordan gave the stand down gesture instead. Her now forest green eyes were narrowed on the man in front of her. "If I am going to be your lawyer, I want to make one thing very clear. The past stays in the past. Your family name was not important enough to ever be uttered in my household, present and past. It is a coincidence that our ancestors had that tie, living in London at the same time. Moving in similar circles. Can you and your business do that, or will I let Mr. Persons know that you have decided to choose another?"

"I can. We can" Anothony assured. Jordan sat down in her chair. The conversation was now what was needed to make the branch possible in the area. From her briefcase, Jordan showed Anthony pictures of a few locations, ready to move in options and places that could be developed to what was needed. Jordan made notes to contact the realtor to allow showings for the places that Anthony was most interested in.

"Humor me, Jordan. Please. By chance, had anyone in your family ever mentioned the name Dracula? Or Count Dracula?" Anthony asked as they were starting to leave the shop.

Jordan paused, keeping her mask on. "It does not ring any bells. Why if I may ask?" She kept her eyes on him. Gauging his reaction to her words.

"He was the last client that R.M. Renfield has dealings with before he went mad. It was in the diary of a family friend of the time. Jonathan Harker. They worked at the same solicitor's office. In fact, Harker took over the client after Renfield was admitted to the asylum." Anthony watched for her reaction.

"Yes, the last trip he had. It is in Eastern Europe from what anyone could recall." Jordan mused, placing the paperwork back in her briefcase. "Unfortunately, moving to a new country did not allow for many things to be bought over. One being the business paperwork of a dead father." Jordan criticized Anthony, seeing his eyes flared up with anger. "I will let you know when the tour of the properties will be." Jordan smiled sweetly, not letting him know that he exposed his true feelings to her words. Anthony gave her a curt nod and left her standing at the table.

It was not until the English man was completely out of sight of the shop's windows, that the two men still at the table moved to flank Jordan. One of the men inspected her wrist carefully where Anthony had grabbed her.

"There is a mark. Boss is not going to like that." The African American man voiced while taking a picture of the red impression with his work phone to send to Vlad. "Not one bit."

"I know, Derek. Hope Vlad doesn't break another cell phone. That man, Lord Holmwood knows a lot more than he let on." Jordan sighed. "We need to know more about them. Exactly why they are interested in working with me."

The other man was talking to other team members that were stationed outside. "He got into a rental car where two men in business suits were sitting in. Got pictures of all of them and there has been a tail in place. We will know even the color of their underwear before the night to through." The second man assured.

"Thank you, Dalton. Now, you are two going to be at the night club later?" She asked, needed a way to unwind other than death scroll on the clock app with the furball of grey striped fury laying on her chest while eating nachos.

"Yes, Ms. Jordan. We will be there." Derek replied.

"What is the dress code?" Jordan inquired.

"Not business dress." Dalton smirked for all he even saw her in was her law office suits.

"I think I have something that will make waves." Jordan smiled, thanking the men again. They walked her to her parked vehicle, A purple Jeep Mojave. Another vehicle, a gunmetal grey Silverado 3500 with more security members followed her out to ensure that she made it home safe. Derek and Dalton went back to pick up the tea order for their boss.

"Message from Boss." Derek held up his work phone as the two entered into their own car, a white Honda Civic. "She was right. Not happy at all."

Make him disappear if he tries to touch her again.

"We can definity do that." Dalton smiled, showing off his fangs. Derek nodded his head in agreement, running his tongue across his own set of fangs. That was something that they could do very well and had many times already in fact. Since the start of their vampiric employment, over seventy years ago.