Princes of the Undead

Part 8

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"I understand you have already had a quite interesting evening Count."

It wasn't a question, Dracula didn't doubt that Mycroft Holmes, had not only had a report from Sergeant Anderson but had probably even watched the video footage. It this was not the first time in his 500+ year of existence, that Dracula had met a Mycroft. These seemingly passionless fish, quiet, patient, seemingly harmless; these were the men who destroyed empires for the intellectual exercise.

"It was...educational Mycroft...I can call you Mycroft?" Dracula replied, and once again it wasn't a question, even if Mycroft Holmes did object to such a familiar address, he wouldn't dare say so now.

To object would reveal something about himself, and Mycroft was a chameleon, always adapting, always using the shadows.

Recognising the verbal backhand and point scored, Mycroft merely nodded. Stepping back as he considered his next move. His questioning of Agatha, and his own research, had indicated that Count Dracula was an educated man. Not only that, he was an intelligent one; these things were not always complementary, as Mycroft had daily proof. Yet he doubted the Count was smarter than he was, which made him ideal in Mycroft's eyes.

"I confess I am glad to have a few moments alone with you, without Captain Van Helsing..."

"As flattering as that is, I'm afraid you really aren't my type Mycroft." Dracula interrupted, his fangs on display as he smiled, a familiar shit eating grin, that said he knew that was not what Mycroft had meant but that he just enjoyed fucking with him. "Sorry, no hard feelings I hope?"

So perhaps he wasn't as ideal as Mycroft had hoped; the man's sense of humour was going to test him, but he was the best prospect Mycroft had found in a century.

"So other than my overwhelming sex appeal." Dracula paused, watching as Mycroft squirmed on the hook. "Why did you manoeuvre yourself into being my liaison?"

"Because you need me Count..."

"Oh, and magnanimous soul that you are, you just offered yourself up..."

"No, I also knew I could benefit from working with you." Mycroft finished, busying his hands with pouring out two glasses of one of his finest vintages, a forty-year-old Russian chess master, who also had a penchant for opera composition.

Sniffing the offered glass, then taking a sip, Dracula was impressed. The slippery snake had good taste at least, and perhaps that combined with the fact Agatha considered him a friend, perhaps he could allow Mycroft to finish making his pitch without further interruption.

"You will be walking into a snake pit; a fact I am sure you are already aware of. What you are lacking is not ability, it is knowledge; all the dirty little secrets the other Elders and their clans would rather you never found out. I could provide that knowledge."

Tilting his head back Dracula studied Mycroft closely. "And why should I trust any information you would pass to me?"

"Because it would be in my interest to see you shake things up. Your arrival is the most destabilizing, and potentially the most rejuvenating thing, to happen to our community in the last hundred years. New leadership, new ideas..."

"Your ideas?" Dracula corrected Mycroft, a smile playing about his lips, when Mycroft himself almost smiled. "And what would you get out of this Mr Holmes? So far it is all talk about benefits for me, but what is it you want?"

"Adoption." Mycroft answered simply.

"What?" Dracula scoffed, yet when Mycroft remained deadly serious, Dracula added. "Why?"