Chapter Text
mood board by the lovely Ignisentis
Yusuf knows exactly why he's being summoned by his father.
It's a rare enough occurrence that he answered the call quickly, clearing his schedule and waiting for nightfall so he could go out. Yusuf's father may be a mild ruler but he is still the Vampire King, and you do not want to ignore him when he calls. Despite not having much interest in state affairs himself Yusuf respects his father's rule immensely, and he will help in any way he can.
And, Yusuf suspects, King Ibrahim sorely needs help at the moment.
It's not a secret, the entire vampire community is talking about it. A few months ago, werewolves started to go missing. One or two at a time, not entire packs, and seemingly at random. Male, female, from powerful packs or loners, there didn't seem to be a pattern. It caused a lot of concern among the wolves, which Yusuf only heard about distantly.
Werewolves usually keep to themselves, rarely reaching out to the other communities for help, let alone to vampires. It's been centuries since the Blood Wars, but there is still a deep distrust between werewolves and vampires, compounded by how little humans seem to regard either community.
Yusuf himself tries not to let old prejudices cloud his judgment, but he's still not on friendly terms with any werewolves personally. He has friends who are, however, and heard about the ongoing investigation, worried it would ratchet up the tension between the different clans, depending on who the culprit ended up being.
As far as Yusuf could tell and despite human police reluctantly joining the search, the investigation didn't go anywhere. The disappearances stopped for a time, and then they started up again. A few more werewolves went missing and then, suddenly, vampires.
This, Yusuf heard about immediately.
It was one or two vampires a week at first, and went up to several while the entire community started to panic, wild rumors spreading everywhere. The wolves, who were still going missing too, accused vampires to be trying to take them down despite the peace accords. In turn, vampires accused humans to be mounting another purge and sending hunters to try and get rid of supernaturals. Humans accused both communities to be lying about the disappearances, eager to find a pretext to spill more blood.
There were a few incidents, nasty words hurled in the streets, arguments that devolved into violence, escalating the constant simmering tension between communities.
The King had to step in to deliver a message of peace, asking everyone to remain calm. He spoke against pointing fingers without proof and advised everyone to be careful and to take care of each other, making sure no-one was isolated. Then, he reached out to Yusuf.
Yusuf is no detective, but he is well-connected within the Netherworld. He knows many vampires, many humans, and has contacts in most of the clans. He knows a lot about what happens in his city, legally and illegally, about who comes in and out, and to what purpose. In a case such as this one, he could be useful.
“We're here, your highness,” the driver tells him and Yusuf gives him a small nod, getting out of the car and stepping into the warm night air, looking up at the building in front of him.
When people picture the place where a vampire king would live, they tend to imagine a dilapidated church, its ruined towers sinister against the backdrop of the night sky.
In the case of King Ibrahim Al-Kaysani, they are wrong on several accounts.
Yusuf walks into the Mosque just after Isha, side-stepping smoothly to let a group of worshipers out, nodding politely as they greet him with respect. They are mostly humans, but as the last one looks up and his eyes flash in the dim light, catching Yusuf's, he can see this one is not. Everyone is welcome at the Mosque and Yusuf doesn't stop to investigate further, making his way along the vast hall. It is mostly empty now, smelling of incense and human sweat.
He removes his shoes before stepping on the plush carpets and follows the wall inscribed with verses from the Quran until he reaches the stairs that lead up to the first floor. The guards part immediately, making way for him. On the first floor Yusuf finds his father, Ibrahim Al-Kaysani, warmly complimenting the Imam, praising his words of peace and acceptance. The Imam smiles back and Yusuf watches his father kiss him on both cheeks companionably before letting him return to his worshipers.
“My son,” Ibrahim greets and Yusuf comes closer with a smile.
“Father.” He steps right into Ibrahim's open arms, pressing his nose against his father's neck in a vampire display of affection. He breathes in the familiar smell of spices and old books, feeling his father's heartbeat along his jugular. The King does the same and Yusuf lets him, stepping back after a few seconds, grinning wider when his father cups his face with both hands.
“You look well,” Ibrahim says, gently. “Have you been taking care of yourself?”
“Yes, father,” Yusuf answers dutifully, chuckling. His father gives him an amused look.
“Come,” Ibrahim gestures, inviting him to sit by the window. An elaborate brass teapot is on the table there and Ibrahim pours them two glasses, fragrant with sugar and mint. He sighs even as he brings his glass to his lips, sipping on his tea. “Yusuf, we must talk about what has been happening.”
“The disappearances?” Yusuf guesses, and his father nods.
“It has been growing worse. We have multiple reports a week now. Both vampires and werewolves. No one seems to know anything about it and the human police is completely out of their depths.” There is distaste lacing Ibrahim's words, and Yusuf can only agree.
As per their Agreement with humans and since they live in their city, neither vampires nor werewolves may do themselves justice for anything serious. They are supposed to let human justice handle their criminals, and have them punished following human laws. Provided they can find them, that is. Yusuf doesn't think particularly highly of human police, not when they're so often completely inept at navigating the different communities to uncover who is responsible.
“How can I help?” he asks, and his father smiles.
“The werewolves have reached out to me,” he reveals, and Yusuf's eyebrows arch. That, in itself, is a rare occurrence. “Well, some of them,” Ibrahim mitigates. “They are willing to share information and work with us to find out who is responsible for this. Considering how tense our relationship with the different werewolf packs is, it would be remiss of me to refuse. ”
Yusuf nods, slowly. It sounds like a good plan, but he isn't sure where he comes in.
“And yet,” Ibrahim adds, delicately, “as the King, I cannot be seen to work with werewolves directly. You know how some of the elders are. They remember the Wars and they cling to their prejudices. Inviting the werewolves here and treating them as equals would almost certainly prompt them to try to overthrow my rule.” Ibrahim pauses, his dark eyes cool. “They would not succeed but they have their supporters, and I do not wish to spill vampire blood on this sacred ground.”
Yusuf tilts his head in understanding and sips on his tea instead of saying anything disparaging. It's not infused with blood so it won't do anything for him, but the taste is still nice.
Ibrahim leans back and considers him. "It remains that the werewolves have reached out for our help, and I don't want to scorn them. The Peace Accords between our communities have held for centuries now, I will not break them over this.”
Yusuf sets his tea glass down. “You want me to work with them,” he states. It's not a bad plan. The elders wouldn't approve of the King working with werewolves directly, but they would probably allow Yusuf, the King's carefree, good-for-nothing son, to do so. The werewolves, of course, will be honored to receive his support.
“It is a good compromise,” Ibrahim confirms, looking pleased Yusuf understood his meaning so quickly. “You will talk to them, talk to the humans, and report to me. Gather all the information you can, and find a way to make this stop.”
“I will do my best, father,” Yusuf agrees, very earnestly, and his father smiles.
“You have my complete trust, Yusuf, I know you will have no rest until our brothers and sisters are safe again.”
Yusuf bows his head respectfully. He does want to put an end to these senseless disappearances, find out what happened, curtail the hostility between the different clans, and see those responsible punished. Even if it means a few unpleasant encounters with werewolves.
Speaking of which.
“Which pack do you wish to work with?” There are several he is aware of, more or less powerful and more of less hostile to vampires.
“Andromache's,” Ibrahim answers and Yusuf tilts his head to the side in consideration. It's not a bad ally to pick. Andromache's pack is small but it is powerful, and Andromache herself is one of the oldest werewolves in existence. She is a fair alpha, from what Yusuf has heard, and cares for her own. She is also one of the least hostile werewolves, when it comes to interacting with vampires. Yusuf has met her a few times to discuss issues within the communities, and she was relatively willing to work with vampires to better the situation, if not exactly friendly.
And then there is also what happened between her and the Red Viper, but no-one likes to think about that.
Yusuf says nothing and his father speaks up again, his eyes piercing. “She has agreed to meet you. She will bring a wolf from her pack along, one who has worked on the disappearances himself. They are willing to tell you what they know, as long as you help them in return.”
“I will meet them,” Yusuf answers, reaching out to take his father's hand. “We will put an end to this.”
“Good,” Ibrahim answers, and pours him more tea.
***
The meeting is set to happen on the next evening, just after sundown. The address Yusuf receives turns out to be in the middle of a human neighborhood, which he can see is an attempt at neutral territory. He appreciates the hour chosen, too. Werewolves aren't particularly nocturnal, save for that one night of the month during which they go wild.
Going into the perfectly nondescript building and up perfectly nondescript stairs, Yusuf can't help but be apprehensive about what he's going to do. He doesn't think he'll get into a fight here, but he doesn't expect a friendly welcome either.
Vampires and werewolves are hereditary enemies, it has always been so. They are polar opposites, no common ground for them to meet on and relate to each other. Most vampires don't know any werewolves personally, and a lot still believe that they smell of wet dog and are little more than mindless beasts. Yusuf's not sure what werewolves say about vampires, but probably something along the line of them being walking corpses, thirsty for blood and violence.
Those are old prejudices, but they are deeply rooted. Yusuf wants to be better than that, and yet it's still difficult not to recoil thinking about teaming up with the wolves to solve this case. After all, he's been wary of werewolves his entire life. Even before the Blood Wars, there was tension and distrust between the communities. And after, well. With so many dead and injured between them, there was no hope for a reconciliation. When you remember being on that sun-scorched battlefield, stinking of blood and carnage and fear, watching your brethren get torn down to shreds, there is truly no forgiveness possible. Yusuf sighs and pauses once he reaches the correct floor, slowly lifting his hand to knock on the door.
It opens almost immediately, like Andromache was waiting for him just behind. Perhaps she could actually smell him coming up the stairs, Yusuf thinks. Steel blue eyes greet him and he feels a shiver go down his spine. Andromache and him never fought directly during the wars, but he had heard of her then, of what she could do, charging into battle half-wolf half-woman, followed by hordes from her pack.
The vision fades and it's just Andromache, standing ramrod straight in front of him. She's pale, dressed in all black with a leather jacket, and she looks like she hasn't slept in days. It must have cost her, Yusuf realizes, to come to them for help, even as vampires started to disappear too.
“Andromache,” he greets, and his voice is polite, if not friendly.
She gives him a very small nod. “Al-Kaysani,” she returns. Her tone is cool but not insolent, even though she's not using his proper title. It makes Yusuf bristle and he goes against it, biting down the urge to snarl.
“Yusuf,” he corrects instead, although they really aren't on a first name basis. It doesn't matter, he thinks. He's not going to call her alpha, she's not going to call him Prince Al-Kaysani. She might very well use his name.
If the offer surprises her she doesn't show it, turning to face him. “Yusuf,” she repeats, a little less stiffly. “Please come in.”
And just like that, Yusuf can. He follows her to what appears to be the living room. “I understand we have a common enemy,” he tells her, stopping at a respectful distance from her but close enough that he can see the many files laid out on the table.
“We do.” She gestures at him to come and take a better look. “This is all the information we have.” The files, and the USB drive she slides towards him on the table. Yusuf takes it, careful not to touch her. She glances at her phone. “We're about to get more. A wolf from my pack will meet us here. He'll be here in a minute, he's talking to the human detective in charge of the case.”
Yusuf looks up from the files when she says nothing more, meeting her gaze again. She arches her eyebrows and Yusuf gets his tablet out, setting it on the table and unlocking it for her to take a look. “This is what we have.” Not much in terms of actual evidence, but a lot of information on the people who went missing. Yusuf's notes, centered on trying to find a pattern. There must be one, he thinks. This cannot be completely random.
“I am meeting a vampire friend of mine, later on. He is working on security footage. All over the city, wherever the victims disappeared, trying to see what happened.” He pockets the USB drive. “I'll relay this information to him, see if it gets us anywhere.” He turns a page on one of the files and is confronted with a picture of a smiling family, two of them circled in red marker. “What do the human cops say?”
Andromache snorts and Yusuf makes a face, nodding. Perhaps there are things they can agree on, after all.
“Detective who's in charge of the case is smart but she can't do much since they're not giving her any resources to actually investigate.” Andromache looks away, quietly furious about it, and Yusuf can't help but share the feeling. Of course the humans wouldn't be too eager to arrest whoever is conveniently ridding them of several supernaturals a week.
“Don't expect much but she'll help you if she can, she's trustworthy. I'll give you her number,” Andromache states and Yusuf nods.
A noise comes from the door, the hinges creaking as someone unlocks it, and Yusuf looks up sharply. Something smells delicious. It's not Andromache, he would have noticed it earlier. The scent is faint but it's growing stronger and Yusuf has to inhale to get more of it. It smells like warm spices, amber and musk, cinnamon. Deep and earthy but also sensual and somehow, sweet.
There are so many notes even Yusuf's fine sense of smell is overwhelmed, the scent blending them all together into something positively mouth-watering. Yusuf actually feels his fangs drop a little, a shudder going through him at the sudden urge to bite, to sink his teeth into whoever smells of this and taste their blood.
Before he can truly process what is happening, a man steps into the room.
Wolf, is Yusuf's first thought.
“I apologize,” the man starts, his voice mild and softly accented. “I had to run by the police station again. Detective Freeman had information.” He's looking at Andromache as he says it but glances over to Yusuf, as if he cannot help himself.
“Ah,” the man adds, startled, and it takes Yusuf a second to get over the scent and realize that he remembers him.
He remembers this wolf coming at him on the battlefield, his face distorted by rage, eyes blazing yellow instead of seafoam. He remembers rolling with him in the dirt, trying to gain the upper hand, the pain of fangs and claws sinking into his flesh. He remembers the way the wolf sunk his teeth deep into his bicep and tugged, tugged, tugged until his shoulder ripped completely, a mess of blood and veins and distorted cartilage.
He shouldn't recall that so clearly. It's been centuries and he's seen many horrors during the Wars. He's been wounded many times too, a few times worse than this temporary loss of a limb.
And yet, something about this particular encounter has stuck in his mind for all this time.
His first reaction is to scowl, fangs now fully out, unsettled by the cognitive dissonance between how attractive this wolf smells and how repulsive the memory of him on the battlefield is.
They stare at each other and Yusuf dimly registers that the wolf is handsome, too. If you're into that kind of thing, that is. Yusuf firmly isn't. He still can't help but notice the broad shoulders, the high cheekbones, the pretty lips, the pale eyes. He looks a bit disheveled, his hair sticking up in some places, curling behind his ears, and his checkered shirt is rumpled. Yusuf wonders if he was out running in the woods and howling at the moon all night.
“Nicolo,” Andromache greets. “We were waiting for you.” She looks between the two of them, taking in the scowl on Yusuf's face and the frown building between Nicolo's eyebrows.
“What's going on?” she asks, right when Nicolo steps forward, his eyes narrowing.
“There's no need for that,” he says, cool and dismissive, glancing pointedly at Yusuf's mouth where his fangs are now fully visible. Yusuf can't help but snarl in affront, even as he makes a conscious effort to rein himself in. Up close there is a hint of sun-soaked lemon to Nicolo's smell. It's making Yusuf's mouth water and he has to swallow to hide it.
“Nicolo,” Andromache barks, sharply reminding him he hasn't answered her question. He immediately looks down and takes a step back, apologetic. “We fought,” he reveals, quietly. “During the Blood Wars.” He glances back to Yusuf and seems hesitant for a second, before his face grows neutral again. “We almost killed each other.”
Yusuf huffs and Andromache turns her stern face towards him. “Is that going to be a problem?” she inquires and Nicolo shakes his head slowly. Yusuf manages to get his fangs under control and he puts his hands in his back, straightening his spine, every bit the regal leader he aspires to seem.
“No. It was a long time ago. The War is behind us, that is where it should stay.”
Andromache nods cautiously, but Yusuf can see Nicolo stiffen from the corners of his eyes, unwilling to believe him. Perhaps he is right not to. The Wars were a long time ago, and yet Yusuf has obviously not made his peace with them yet.
Still there is no time to argue and Andromache refocuses on the task at hand, browsing through the information on the tablet Yusuf brought. “What did detective Freeman have to say?”
“She found some information on the missing people, werewolves and vampires,” Nicolo tells her, setting a few more files on the table in front of Andromache. She opens them, takes a look, and then slides them over to Yusuf.
“No leads?” Andromache asks, and Nicolo shakes his head, glancing over to Yusuf distrustfully before he continues. “No. She hasn't found any pattern, either.”
Yusuf looks up from the files and meets his gaze. So, the wolves are looking for patterns too.
“Security camera footage might bring something new,” Andromache says, looking at Yusuf.
“It might,” Yusuf agrees. “Putting all this data into a computer will make it easier to find patterns, too,” he confirms, opening another file and frowning. There are so many missing, already. This does not bode well.
“You have access to security camera footage?” Nicolo asks, shocked. “From all over the city?”
Yusuf nods, but doesn't look at him. The scent of him is bad enough, he doesn't need to be staring into pale eyes too.
“Is that legal?” the wolf inquires and Yusuf has to snort, condescending. He won't dignify that with an answer.
Nicolo's jaw works a little but a look from Andromache keeps him silent.
“Are you going now?” she asks. Yusuf closes the file, gathering the information Nicolo has brought.
“Yes. No time to lose.”
“Take Nicolo with you,” Andromache says, and Yusuf has to fight not to visibly recoil.
“I don't need him for this,” he points out, ignoring the way Nicolo's eyes flash up at him, his lips curving down in displeasure.
“We're sharing contacts,” Andromache states, her tone cool but unyielding. “Information. I've given you mine, you give me yours. Take him with you.”
Yusuf has to work on not letting his fangs drop again.
“Fine,” he allows, and heads for the door. “We're going now.”
Nicolo follows in silence.
***
To say that the car ride to Booker's is tense is a bit of an understatement.
Yusuf drives smoothly, making sure to stay within speed limitations to avoid attracting attention. His gaze flicks over to the wolf in his passenger seat a few times, curious despite himself. Nicolo is studiously looking out the window, his face turned away. It's difficult to be in such a confined space with someone whose smell makes your mouth water and your cock twitch, Yusuf is finding out. Even more so when you can remember this same someone ripping one of your arms off with startling clarity.
It helps that Nicolo seems to be ignoring him completely. He's not hostile exactly but he's not friendly either, and from a rational point of view Yusuf feels like he should probably say something to make sure he can actually count on his cooperation, now that he doesn't have Andromache breathing down his neck.
“Look-” he starts, and Nicolo interrupts him.
“Your arm grew back,” he says, his voice quiet, and it's such an unexpected remark that Yusuf is shocked into silence for a few seconds before he scowls, fangs itching to come out. He turns to glare at him but Nicolo is looking away.
“Eventually,” he answers, coolly. “No thanks to you.” He still has a scar, discolored on his shoulder where the worst of the bite was. It had taken a long time for his arm to grow back, and even longer for him to regain complete control over it.
“It was war,” Nicolo answers, and he turns around to look at Yusuf this time, his eyes yellow in the street lights. “You broke almost all of my ribs. I could barely breathe, I had to lie still for days.”
Yusuf remembers that. He remembers putting his knee on Nicolo's ribcage and pressing down, hard, until he heard his bones snap. He remembers the howling noise of pain Nicolo had let out, the smell of blood trickling from his own ruined shoulder.
“It was war,” he repeats, bitterly, stopping the car at a red light a little abruptly. He turns to face Nicolo and is surprised to see the wolf nod, looking down.
“It was. I did a lot of things, in the name of our cause, that I would not do again. That I regret,” he admits, quietly. Yusuf's eyebrows arch up. Nicolo isn't apologizing -he's not even saying he regrets what he did to Yusuf, specifically- but Yusuf feels it's probably as close to a sorry as the wolf is going to get.
“Didn't we all?” he asks, his tone careful, holding Nicolo's pale eyes. They stare at each other for a few seconds, both jumping when the car behind them honks loudly. The light has turned to green.
“Some of us more than others,” Nicolo argues after a few seconds, looking at the street in front of them without seeing it. “I was on the battlefield more often than many. I wanted to be.”
There is a bitter taste under Yusuf's tongue, both because it disgusts him and because he can relate.
“I thought it was fair, for me to fight,” Nicolo adds and Yusuf's grip goes very tight on the steering wheel. Nicolo watches his fingers go pale, the way Yusuf is scrupulously keeping his gaze on the road. “Didn't you?”
“Werewolves attacked us first,” Yusuf grits out, his fangs beginning to peek out from under his lip. Between Nicolo's intoxicating scent and the subject matter they are discussing, it's hard to keep them in check.
Nicolo says nothing for a few seconds. “Is that what they told you?” he inquires and Yusuf hits the breaks abruptly, not caring about the sudden screeching of tires behind them.
“That is what happened. I was there, I saw it. Entire communities razed to the ground. Families tied up and left to turn to ash in the sun,” he hisses, his eyes slowly turning all the way black, eerily reflecting the dashboard lights.
For a moment, it looks like Nicolo is going to argue before he raises his hands, surrendering the point. “Yes. I saw it too,” he agrees, quietly, and Yusuf takes a deep breath and starts driving again, less smoothly than before. Silence stretches between them.
“We're going to have to work together,” Nicolo points out after a while, very reasonably. Yusuf hates him.
“Yes,” he allows, his voice tight with anger.
“Maybe you could put the fangs away,” Nicolo suggests, and Yusuf gives him a flat look. He can tell they're still out, not all the way but enough to be noticeable. He should probably try to retract them, if only to be polite.
“Fuck you,” he replies, and doesn't.
***
The rest of the drive is silent and Yusuf parks the car smoothly in front of Booker's building. It's old and crumbling, the windows on all the floors except the last boarded up. Booker owns the whole building (he bought it at some point during the 18th century, Yusuf remembers) but he's obviously not taking care of it.
Just like he's not taking care of himself.
Yusuf gets his key and shoulders the door open, holding it for Nicolo even as he steps into the dimly lit hall. The elevator doesn't work so they take the creaking stairs, following the yellowed patterned carpet up. The first floors are empty except for mice and spiders, but the higher they get, the more empty bottles and crumbled blood bags they find, the smell of alcohol and B negative growing heavier and heavier.
It's overwhelming even to Yusuf, and he can't even imagine what it must smell like for Nicolo, who has an even keener sense of smell. “B negative?” Nicolo asks when they reach the last floor, a little puzzled.
“Booker's favorite,” Yusuf tells him. “What's your blood type?” he asks, and he can hear Nicolo sigh behind him.
“I don't know. I've never needed a transfusion,” Nicolo answers, quietly. He pauses and Yusuf turns around to look at him, surprised.
“Do all vampires have a preference?” Nicolo asks, his tone more curious than judgmental.
“Some of us do.” He won't volunteer any more information. He doesn't, personally. Whatever Nicolo's blood type is, however, it smells extremely appealing.
Yusuf knocks on the door before he pushes it open, stepping into Booker's apartment.
“In here,” Booker calls, from the living room.
The apartment is in the same state of disrepair as the rest of the building, peeling wallpaper on the walls and dust-covered glass bottles everywhere, crumpled blood bags thrown around haphazardly. Not much light, though a blueish glow is coming from the living room, beckoning. Yusuf turns around to nod towards it, silently telling Nicolo to follow.
Booker's living room is large but it feels small. Along the walls are floor-to-ceiling bookshelves bending under the weight of the many tomes packed on them, and there are computers on all the remaining flat surfaces. Thick curtains are drawn to block out even moonlight, cigarette smoke curling in the hot air generated by the many CPUs whirring around them.
Booker is sitting hunched on a threadbare couch, looking up when they step in. The blue light from his screen and the red light from his lit cigarette are reflected in his entirely black eyes, and Yusuf can hear Nicolo draw a sharp intake of breath behind him.
“Your highness,” Booker mocks around his cigarette and Yusuf grins in return, stepping closer as Booker puts the cigarette out in his overflowing ashtray determinedly, and stands up to greet him. They embrace and Yusuf breathes in the smell of smoke, whiskey, stale blood, old ink and warm electronics. It is familiar and oddly comforting. He lets Booker put his nose to his jugular affectionately, returning the gesture for a few seconds before he steps away.
“It's good to see you, brother,” Yusuf says, holding on to Booker's biceps. “You look terrible.”
It's an old joke and Booker huffs, giving him a thin grin. “Yeah. Right back at you,” he taunts, before glancing away and towards where Nicolo is standing, watching him with a curiously neutral expression on his face.
“Werewolf,” Booker greets, and it only sounds a little like an insult. Booker wasn't around yet for the Blood Wars, and while he's probably heard enough about them to be wary of werewolves in general, that distaste has not shaped him the way it did Yusuf.
Nicolo tilts his head forward. “Vampire.” He's almost polite.
Booker steps forward then, a prowl. Yusuf keeps forgetting it but once Booker stops hunching or sprawling he is tall, taller than Yusuf himself and taller than Nicolo. His fangs aren't out but his eyes are fully black in the dim light and he only stops when he is close enough to loom, looking down at Nicolo coolly.
Nicolo pushes his shoulders back a little and holds his ground remarkably well, Yusuf thinks, not showing any fear except for the fact that he's staying perfectly still, ready to bolt.
“Why are you here?” Booker inquires and Nicolo holds his eyes without blinking.
“I've volunteered to help with the disappearances. I know some of the werewolves who went missing personally. They are family.” Nicolo's jaw twitches and clenches. “Andromache has tasked me to work with Prince Al-Kaysani and discover who is doing this, and why.” He arches his eyebrows, quietly confrontational despite the situation. “I was told you could help?”
That -Yusuf has to admit- takes some guts. Nicolo is outnumbered here, and in vampire territory. He knows this. And yet here he stands, righteously furious, staring right back into Booker's black eyes.
Booker huffs and relents, like Yusuf knew he would. “Who told you that,” he grumbles, looking over to Yusuf accusingly.
“I did. And you will.” He gives Booker a meaningful look. “Anything on the security camera footage?”
“Not yet,” Booker tells them. “It's a lot of footage to check, Yusuf, even with computers to help. It'll take some time.” Yusuf sighs but he nods, patting his pockets for the drive Andromache gave him.
“Here, I got you more data to process in the mean time, see if you can find a pattern.” He hands it over and Booker goes back to sit on the couch, plugging it in. The computers whir back to life and Booker lights another cigarette. “This'll take a few minutes. Make yourself at home,” he mocks, giving Nicolo a crooked grin. Nicolo huffs, his nose scrunching up at the smell. He steps away to get out of the smoke, examining the books on Booker's shelves instead.
Yusuf sits on the couch next to Booker, rubbing at his face and watching him type.
“Vampire/Werewolf collaboration, eh?” Booker says as Nicolo steps out and back into the corridor, following a bookshelf into the next room. “How's that going?”
“Not well,” Yusuf admits, making a face. He accepts the flask Booker hands him, taking a careful sip of whiskey mixed with blood. Once he's sure Nicolo is out of earshot he leans in closer, his gaze intent on Booker's face. He keeps his voice low, his tone serious.
“Does he smell... different, to you?” he asks, nodding towards where Nicolo is in the other room.
Booker takes a sip from his flask, considering. “Nah. Bit like wet dog, maybe.” He leers and Yusuf elbows him in the ribs none-too-gently. Booker leans away, grumbling.
“I guess he smells okay? Clean. Nice aftershave.” He shrugs. “I'd bite him if he asked nicely.” The thought is so abhorrent to Yusuf that his fangs slip out immediately, an angry hiss building at the back of his throat. He can feel his eyes go entirely black for a second before he furiously tamps down the inappropriate feeling of possessiveness growing inside him.
Booker watches him curiously. “What does he smell like to you?” he inquires, glancing away towards Nicolo, watching him inspect the various screens and computers he's got set up in the other room.
“Good,” Yusuf says, a very quiet whisper. “Really fucking good.”
Booker gives a low whistle, his face thoughtful. Sometimes, specific individuals smell better to vampires. No-one has managed to completely figure out why yet, though it seems it has to do with how compatible their blood is to the vampire in question. It's a rare occurrence, and usually sought after and treasured.
“Any chance he'll let you have a taste?” Booker taunts, and Yusuf bares his teeth at him.
“Absolutely none.”
To his credit, Booker doesn't make fun of him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Tough luck, brother.” The computer pings, making them both sit up. “Alright, let's check it out.” Booker types in a few more lines of code, not looking up when Nicolo comes back.
“Anything?” he asks, and Booker shakes his head.
“No. If there is a pattern, it's not an easy one to find. I can run a deeper search, but it'll take a while.” Yusuf nods, leaning back. He expected as much, in truth. If there had been an obvious pattern, he would have been able to catch it. “I'll keep watching the surveillance footage, too. Riveting stuff, as you can imagine.”
Yusuf grins thinly, patting Booker's knee. “You'll find something,” he tells Booker, trying to sound confident. Booker shrugs, looking over to Nicolo again.
“There wasn't any info on the last werewolf who went missing. The one whose clan lives up that mountain?”
“They didn't give me any,” Nicolo replies, plainly. “They're a very secluded community, I'll pay them a visit and see what they haven't told us.” His gaze slides from Booker to Yusuf. “Al-Kaysani's coming with me,” he adds.
“Great,” Yusuf says, around a sigh. “Can't wait.”
He could swear he sees Nicolo smirk out of the corner of his eye.