Lightning flashed in the sky highlighting the silhouette of two women who stood by the windows of an unfinished skyscraper. The one on the left put a pair of binoculars to her face. The hints of a frown appeared at the edge of her lips as she observed the goings on across the way. Another flash of lightning backlight the pair as she handed the binoculars to her companion. The flash reflected off her chrome nail polish. The other woman put the binoculars to her eyes and her identical lips curved in a slight frown as well. A wireless ear bud peaked out of the left ear of each of the twins. The faint pulse of Halsey’s Gasoline could be heard from them. At their feet lay a pair of open sniper rifle cases. Across the top of them lay a pair of identical anti-material rifles.

An observer may think they were seeing double. The clothes the pair wore were identical. Their naturally raven black hair were both cut in longish pixie cuts. Each had a pair of almost emerald, green eyes. They were tall, five foot nine, a lot of it was leg. Their outfits were identical. They wore black and blood red kilts. Knee high laced boots with military style treads. They each wore a black leather jacket. Their lips were painted blood red and they had thick eye shadow. Under the make up their faces were pale classic beauties. They both wrapped their hands around a railing on the inside of the line of windows. As they leaned forward their jackets opened revealing an array of silver throwing knives and silver stakes. Each had a pair of chromed Glocks. The one on the left spoke first.

“I don’t like this.”

The second responded.

“I don’t like this at all.”

The first nodded.

“He looks all kinds of shades of Gaius.”

The second nodded.

“Like a rat in a suit.”

The twins glanced back as another figure approached. The woman who approached had her hands in the pockets of an unbuttoned fashionable knee length black trench coat. Under it was a professional white blouse and a black pencil skirt. Her heels clicked against the unfinished floor. She was shorter than the pair who waited for her to arrive. Another flash of lightning highlighted the trio’s silhouettes. The woman finally reached the pair. The lights from the surrounding office buildings lit up her face. Her dark hair was past her shoulders and wavy but in all other ways matched the twins. As did her eyes. The twin on the left spoke.

“This is a shit job.”

The twin on the right added her input.

“Smells like Rome in the summer.”

The newcomer frowned at the pair.

“We do not choose our tasks, the council does. If the Lord requests our assistance, we are bound to assist. I doubt he plans on laying a trap for us. I will verify everything is as it seems.”

The left twin spoke.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you were wrong.”

The twin on the right spoke.

“Remember Paris.”

The newcomer frowned.

“We had bad intel. I will head over and determine if we will take the job. You know what to do. Amanda, Marzia do not fire until I give the signal.”

The twins both frowned but nodded in agreement. Each pulled out a glass cutter and began to create holes in the glass. The newcomer turned and walked away her heels clicking on the concrete. The twin on the left frowned.

“For a baby sister she sure is bossy.”

The twin on the right nodded.

“At least she talks to the trash, so we don’t have too.”

They both smiled at that as they placed their cut glass on the floor and picked up their sniper rifles. As they looked through their scopes each took aim at the office building across the street. The mirrored glass would appear to be opaque but somehow each selected a line of fire that would hit at least two of the four men standing around the desk of a fifth man who was seated with his hands steepled.

******

Camilla glanced back up at the window she knew her sisters were now poking sniper rifles through and then back to the entrance to the golden office building that her meeting was in. She went through the spinning door. The security guard barely looked up from his tablet as she passed. Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she approached the bank of elevators. She reached out her finger to press the up button on the bank that advised they would reach the thirtieth floor. She smiled at the beautiful red nail polish that graced her nail. The twins had been right, it looked good with her pale skin. The elevator dinged and she stepped on.

She stepped off when she reached the thirtieth floor. Her hands slipped into her trench coats pockets absently as she approached the offices. She looked at the stylized signage across the tinted glass. Lord & Company. She frowned. It seemed the ego of this lot had not changed in the last few thousand years of her lifetime. She pulled the door open and was greeted by two large men in black suits. One held up his hand and the other waved metal detecting wand over her. The man with the wand appeared satisfied and motioned her forward. The man who had held up his hand offered up a tray. When he spoke, she noted he had the kind of gruff voice that just sent chills down her spine. His English was thickly accented with his native tongue which appeared to be Russian if her ear heard it right.

“Cell phone please.”

She shook her head.

“Don’t have one.”

He frowned and patted her down his hands finding every crevice. Even checking between her thighs. She didn’t mind being felt up. Being dead for a couple thousand years tended make one less of a prude about such things. He raised an eyebrow when he found nothing and stepped aside opening the door for her.

“Sorry ma’am.”

Camilla’s lips which shared her sister’s blood red lipstick curved into a slight smile.

“I never mind a bit of foreplay.”

The man blushed; Camilla’s eyes flicked to the rosiness. She lacked her sister’s gifts, so she had to rely on other tells. She focused on the hallway ahead. It was time to focus so she could use her own gifts. She ran into the next step her gauntlet. A secretary. As she scanned the woman, she noted all was not as it seemed with her. Something was wrong with her, and she could not put a finger on it. Camilla pondered if the woman’s employer realized she was a spy. The bubbly voice, poor grammar, and chewing gum made her seem unintelligent. Camilla sensed she was anything but.

“Just one minute doll.”

Camilla nodded and waited her hands had returned to their place in her pockets. The receptionist pressed a button on the phone and mentioned Camilla was there. Then seemed to realize she’d made a mistake; She blushed. She let out a small nervous giggle and pressed another. All of this was an act to enhance the sense that the receptionist was a complete moron. Camilla ignored it. The woman was not her objective tonight and the petty games these low born vampires played were meaningless in the grand scheme of things. After another scan for any weapons or electronics Camilla was granted access to the inner sanctum. Camilla was amused by the gauntlet she’d gone through, as if the lack of a weapon would stop her from destroying one of these low born.

She entered the large office. A large oak desk dominated the office. No computer was visible. This didn’t surprise her. Some vampires couldn’t keep up with the times. The large desk was surrounded by large men. She assumed former Russian special forces like the ones guarding the front door. Each was armed with a sub-machine gun. They were well dressed. Behind the desk sat another Russian. Only this one was in an expensive suit. He looked Camilla up and down. Truthfully, she didn’t look like much of a threat to anyone. Where her sisters were tall and muscular, she was a small thing. Barely five foot four with her heels. He snorted and spoke to his guards in Russian.

“I asked for the Triumvirate and I get this? Does the council wish to insult me so much?”

Camilla raised an eyebrow, thinking what an arrogant prick. Instead of giving into her want to make him understand how small he was she chose to speak with a soft voice.

“My sisters are indisposed. We have many requests for our services. Once I have the details, I will get them involved. Now, so we waste less of each of our times what task do you have for us?”

The Lord of Manhattan snorted. He stood up walked around his desk then around Camilla. He was muscular and almost a foot taller than her. He looked down at her and spoke.

“You expect me to believe you are one of the Reapers? The boogie man of vampires?”

Camilla shrugged off his meager attempts at intimidation and shook her head. His nearness allowed her full access to her own gift. The man was up to something. She hated the rare occasion when the twins were right. She’d hear about this for the next century.

“You are wasting my time.”

She turned to leave, and the man nodded. She heard a magnetic lock engage on the door. He’d need a nuclear vault door to keep her contained but she decided to play his game for a while and turned back to him. The Lord clearly had no idea with whom he was dealing. He was used to people fearing him. She despised these young vampire Lords who somehow came to power. Likely he had the backing of a mortal crime family and ensured that his position was secure with silver bullets from the mortals. She looked up at him.

“Why the show? You asked for our assistance. You don’t have to scare me into it, the council has agreed, and I am here. Who is the target and what have they done to break the covenants?”

She held out her hand. She didn’t know why she was expecting a tablet or cell phone from this anachronism. What she received after he reached into his jacket pocket was a single photo. He seemed satisfied he’d intimidated her into serving him so sat back down at his desk. The picture had a location and date on it. She turned it over and her eyes went wide. The image was not one she had expected, she hadn’t seen the face in two thousand years. Not since Rome. It was her Aunt Mariana. Princess Mariana, daughter of the vampire Emperor, sister to the Empress. It was an impossible photo her aunt was in a private school uniform standing in front of a modern building. The daylight in the photo would have been enough but her aunt had been dead for a couple thousand years. She quickly recovered from her shock and tried to hide her reaction.

Camilla threw the photo on the desk.

“She’s in daylight. Mortals do not concern us.”

He smiled showing his fangs and slid another photo across the desk. It showed the Mariana sucking on a bag of blood, this time she was wearing a Victorian style dress and standing in front of a large LCD screen. He spoke.

“She is a daywalker.”

Camilla shook her head.

“No such thing.”

The lord leaned back and steepled his fingers.

“She is living in my city and has not made her presence known. That is a violation of the law.”

Camilla frowned.

“Then why have you not dealt with it, Lord of Manhattan? Has the council appointed the wrong person for this job?”

He stood up leaning over his desk. Even leaning he towered over Camilla. She was sure some would be intimidated but was hard to be intimidated by what was to her a child in every sense of the word save body.

“She is an Imperial. No one else can stand the sunlight all day.”

Camilla was growing angry now. A rare thing for the almost permanently calm vampire. It showed in her voice.

“Imperials are above you, yet you summon us here to kill one. We may go where we please, do what we please, Pugmentia. You live by our grace, not the other way around.”

He motioned to his guard and suddenly Camilla had four sub-machine guns pointed in her direction.

“Maybe I should just take you hostage and force the council to act?”

Camilla frowned, yes, her sisters had been one hundred percent right and she would be hearing about this for centuries. She looked out the window behind the Lord and gave the slightest of nods. All four of his guards collapsed and burnt up in blue fire leaving just ashes behind. Camilla’s eyes flicked back to the Lord of Manhattan who was cowering in front of his desk by now.

“My sisters are very good at what they do. Do not think your desk will stop one of their bullets. They’ve already reset and are aiming at your heart with silver bullets. I believe we have aptly demonstrated how effective they are.”

The Lord continued to cower behind his desk. Camilla approached the desk and picked up the photo of Mariana drinking from a blood bag. She quirked her head to the side and glanced down at the Lord.

“When I was still a child, our father was killed during the uprising when Caesar was assassinated. You see he supported Caesar in his rise to power. When he fell from grace, so did my father. They tried to kill my siblings. All seven of us at the time, along with my mother, the Empress. The assassins failed because my sisters, the reapers as everyone calls them, hunted them down and killed them first. They were still mortal then. The next morning, the heads of the assassins and the senators who backed them adorned spears in front of the Roman senate. The day after that the heads of another ten senators were added. The night before, my sisters hunted down every single man and vampire who had anything to do with our father’s death. They wiped out families that night. Whether the family was associated with vampire, or mortal. Then they burned their estates to the ground. They killed almost two hundred people, vampires, mortal men, women and children that night. This was Rome before Christ, they had spears, swords and arrows. What might they be able to do with modern weaponry? What could a pair of women, driven by vengeance do, if say they were two-thousand-year-old vampires? You may be wondering why I am telling you this. Let me explain.”

She kneeled down so she was level with the cowering Lord. She flipped the photo over and showed it to him. She tapped Mariana’s image with her finger.

“This girl you asked us to kill? She is our Aunt. She helped raise us. We love her like she was a parent. I really don’t think they’re going to be happy about this. I try to temper them, but my influence only goes so far. I’m the baby of the family after all. Do you have any living mortal family? Maybe you should call them.”

Camilla stood up and took the other picture from the desk and slide the pair of photos into the pocket inside her trench coat. As she walked away she reached her hand up and tapped her shoulder. Her hands fell back into her trench coat pockets and she heard the Lord scream in agony. Without looking back she spoke.

“Consider those warning shots, Lord of Manhattan.”