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</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">Hurried footsteps carried her through the woods, the unmanicured land with a worn and jagged path. It was well-traveled, years of sneaking around gently sculpting a natural trail that led to the massive estate. Ava moved quickly, all the while pulling the leaves and seeds that fell from the trees out of her hair and off her clothing. She avoided the untamed brush, the sharp and spiky edges of thriving vegetation that threatened to snag and scratch. Through the break in the sprawling thickets and twined brambles she could see the white pillars of her home, colossal columns a welcome sight. Ava emerged from the dense woods, skirting the perimeter of the property. Moving around the trimmed hedges and flourishing rose bushes, the worn stone fountain that trickled soothingly, she stayed close to blindspots-- the areas where the cameras mounted to little gables on the roof couldn’t reach. It meant staying off the cobblestone path until those pivoting devices turned their attention elsewhere, providing her an opening to sprint to the wrap-around porch. From her pocket she produced a key, and quietly she unlocked the door, slowly turning the knob to cautiously enter.<br/>
<br/>
It was silent in the hall, but she could smell the appetizing scent of food as it floated on the cool air. Closing the door ever-so gently and locking it in the same delicate manner, she ascended the steps just in front of her. They were not the well-made platform that guests were greeted with in the grand foyer, the curved structures that framed a luxurious chandelier and fresh, fragrant floral arrangements on a pedestal. The ones she climbed were old, tattletales, squealing floorboards that whined in protest to any ounce of pressure applied to them. Well-placed steps minimized the groans, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she finally reached the top landing. Traversing the elongated space of the hall she made her way to the door of her room. There was no sign that anyone had disturbed her space. Sheets were still rumpled from her restless sleep, and her window was still open, a breeze fluttering sheer white curtains as light poured inside. <br/>
<br/>
After unpacking her things, she went to the mirror of her vanity, swiftly checking herself over. When she was certain that she didn’t appear as though she had been trekking through the woods, that there was no mud on her shoes and no earthy debris in her hair, she went to the kitchen as she always did. Sitting by vast bay windows, in a padded seat with the newspaper opened and a hot cup of coffee before him, was a familiar and distinguished man-- a creature of habit who could be found in the same position every morning for an hour. Her features lightened at the sight of him, a soft smile curling onto her lips.<br/>
<br/>
“Good morning, <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FbrTJPNP.jpg&amp;hash=68be90fdef61bfc801e0caac27d1eb08" href="https://i.imgur.com/brTJPNP.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Dad</a>.” <br/>
<br/>
“ ‘Morning, Pumpkin.” The paper folded down and away from his face, silver hair slicked away from his face neatly. He flashed a handsome grin that diminished a bit as he looked her over, his brows furrowed. <br/>
<br/>
Ava remained calm though she could feel his dismayed stare. As she fixed herself a helping of eggs and toast-- her safe meal-- she was internally panicking when he didn’t just go back to reading his paper as usual. She feared she had missed something, a speck of dirt or a piece of moss from the woods. <br/>
<br/>
“Isn’t that skirt just a tich too short, darlin’?” He asked finally, his expression bordering on disapproval. <br/>
<br/>
“<i>You</i> don’t say anything about the length of my skirt-- which covers everything that needs to be covered-- and I won’t tell Mom about these two pieces of bacon you had.” Quick on her thinking, she indicated to the plate resting on the island, to the greasy outlines like missing bodies. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching your cholesterol?”<br/>
<br/>
A grumble emitted from the old man as he lifted the paper again, giving the pages in his grasp an agitated shake as he conceded to defeat. <br/>
<br/>
“What’s all that rustling going on? Don’t you know it’s early?” <br/>
<br/>
Ava turned to the entrance, shock registering on her face momentarily upon seeing the tall blonde leaning against the wall. “<a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FgJ9olPX.jpg&amp;hash=ccf9abe9ea883abad826d34c860eb4b6" href="https://i.imgur.com/gJ9olPX.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Cal</a> . . . When did you get here?”<br/>
<br/>
“Late last night. I was going to say ‘hello’ but you were <i>sleeping</i>. You looked so <i>peaceful</i> that I didn’t want to disturb you.” He told her, a knowing look in his eyes and a smug smile on his face. It was unusual for Ava to be gone late. While it wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to be up late, she was generally home if she wasn’t on a mission. No doubt her absence piqued his interest, but she was thankful that he didn’t outright expose her. <br/>
<br/>
“And, it’s a good thing you didn’t, young man. We all know that sleep doesn’t come easy for you. You need to get every wink of shut eye you can.” Her father chimed in, not pulling his eyes away from the black and white paper for a second. If he had, he’d surely notice the tension; how Ava seemed to bristle at the sight of him and how Cal seem to draw entertainment from that particular reaction. <br/>
<br/>
“You’re home early. I don’t think we were expecting you until next weekend, right? Did you and Nina get into an argument again? Or, were you just feeling a little homesick?” Ava asked, her barrage of questions more like a gentle interrogation than any expression of genuine concern over the reasons for his return. <br/>
<br/>
“Beauty of living in Baton Rouge is being an hour away.” Cal said with a shrug of his shoulders, too cool and collected to be ruffled by her chilly reception. “I thought I’d visit since it’s been . . . Well, since Christmas.”<br/>
<br/>
It was a blatant reminder of their last, twisted encounter. A late night in front of twinkling lights, her cheeks rosy and warm from too much wine. Her stomach turned at the thought of the particular vintage she consumed that night, a rise of bile stinging at her throat. Rather successfully she managed to maintain her composure, suppressing the uncomfortable memory of lips and teeth, of deep, labored breaths and greedy hands. <br/>
<br/>
“Besides, Mom always needs so much help before the annual dinner. I couldn’t leave her to stress out over the arrangements. The Order is as big as it's ever been, and there will be a lot of mouths to feed, champagne to flow, and elbows to rub. That means you might have to put on another color besides black and wear a smile for a little while, Avery.” A grin as crooked as he was appeared on his features. <br/>
<br/>
“Ava can wear whatever she wants, Callahan . . . Long as she covers what needs to be covered, isn’t that right darlin’?” Her father interjected, the paper down so that his son could see the sharpness of his steely blue stare. <br/>
<br/>
“That’s right.” Her tone was a triumphant one, though she knew she hadn’t exactly won in their exchange. At least for now Cal seemed to be content with holding onto the fact that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be, likely keeping it handy for blackmail or some other form of manipulation for the time being. It didn’t sit well with her, but it also wasn’t her primary concern. Ava wasn't as unsettled by the fact that he was so focused on her . . . <br/>
<br/>
He never once mentioned Scarlett or her whereabouts . . . It was like she didn't exist. <br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'">***</span></b>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><br/>
<br/>
The black Land Rover came to a slow, crawling halt outside the auto shop. With the garage doors up, she could smell the grease and oil, the pungent scent of rubber and metal. Whirring tools and clanking emitted from those open bays, coming from suspended vehicles and the men who worked under them. Ava stepped out of the car, her presence drawing the curious attention of sweat-covered, dirty faced mechanics. From just outside the workshop she peered in, green hues panning around for a familiar face. He stuck out like a sore thumb, artistic and elaborate tattoos decorating nearly every inch of his body, up his neck to frame a handsome face. Wiping his hands on a rag he kept in the back pocket of his coveralls, he gave her a gesture of his head, a jerk that indicated to the back of the shop. While he moved to the back through the door, Ava rounded the side of the building, stepping through gravel and long, wispy blades of grass that tickled her legs. <br/>
<br/>
“To what do I owe the pleasure of Princess Avery visiting my place of work?” He asked, the rag still in hand as he leaned against the exterior of the building, cleaning the stubborn, black grease from under his nails. <br/>
<br/>
“I need-- don’t call me ‘Princess’ Ben.” Ava raised a finger, nipping the patronizing remark in the bud before she continued. By the smile that it elicited, she wasn’t certain if he was all that receptive to her firm request. The Landry's were everything the Bergeron's were not, blue collar and unpolished, but well-established and well-connected. “I need a favor. Your family hunts Vampires primarily, and I was made aware of a particular group that might sport a marking; black, triangular shapes . . .”<br/>
<br/>
“I know of it. Go on. I’m listening.” Ben nodded along, preoccupied though he was attentive enough. <br/>
<br/>
“If you could help me track down one or two, help me find out what places they might frequent or what patterns they keep that’d be really helpful.”<br/>
<br/>
“Sounds easy enough. It shouldn’t be too difficult. I could have what you need in about twenty-four hours. Gotta finish up my shift and hit the streets tonight but I can do it.” He stuffed the rag back in his back pocket, a hand going to his dark hair. "Could have just called if that's all you needed."<br/>
<br/>
“I . . . also need some weapons.” Ava didn’t think she was asking a lot, but she knew she had drawn his suspicion when his pierced brow raised. <br/>
<br/>
“That fancy Order of yours got every weapon imaginable.” His gaze narrowed, eyes locking onto hers. “Are you in trouble?”<br/>
<br/>
“No, I’m not in trouble at all. I’m just . . . I . . .” Frustration set in, all her secrets becoming barriers to what she needed. “I don’t need to tell you anything. I need weapons, and I’ll pay you for them. If you don’t want to sell them to me, then that’s fine. You don’t have to. I’ll take my business to the Germain’s.”<br/>
<br/>
Ben stared at her long and hard, his expression as impassive as her own for a while. “Alright. I’ll get you weapons. But, since we both know it’s against the rules . . . You gotta do something for me to buy my silence.”<br/>
<br/>
“Of course. Whatever you need me to do.” It was only fair. She realized she was asking a lot of him, information and weapons; one being easier to swing than the other. <br/>
<br/>
He rubbed his hands together with a pleased smile. “You ever hunt a Grunch before?” </span>