Those who needed Hyperion knew how to find him. Anyone who couldnâ€™t didnâ€™t really need him. A community that knew his name knew his profession. Knew he would do anything for money. But they never knew quite why. It earned him no trust and no friends, but it did earn him contacts. One of them had invariably passed along his name to strings of other useful people and as it often did, it finally proved fruitful.<br/><br/>Hyperion lived alone in a single room apartment, as far as his web of contacts knew. It was where he kept a phone and a cage with a canary. He fed the bird and played music for it, as in truth he wasnâ€™t there often. The canary, which he called Raptor, had been sullen since his female died. Hyperion didnâ€™t care enough to replace the dead bird. Only enough to clean out the cage and make sure the bird was healthy.<br/><br/>The old answering machine blinked away steadily, waiting for its message to be played. There were two. The first was short. â€œI have work for you Mr. Viteri. Level nine,â€ was the full extent of it. Hyperion knew the instructions from the familiar voice. He hadnâ€™t decided just yet if he would take the job. There was the second message that just might be a better offer.<br/><br/>He erased the previous one, the machine emitting one long beep. A womanâ€™s voice began, â€œPer, Iâ€™d like to speak wi-â€ He scowled, showing his teeth briefly and unconsciously. No choice of work then. No matter. Hyperion didnâ€™t need choices, only pay. With Raptor cared for even if not content, Hyperion left the place to its noise of randomly chosen music.<br/><br/>He walked the distance to the abandoned building referred to as level nine. It was a big part of the reason heâ€™d chosen an apartment where his was. The place was a ratâ€™s nest of beggars and junkies. The fringe was always passing through, looking for a place to hole up that didnâ€™t leak too badly. Most of his contacts didnâ€™t like it, but Hyperion knew there was less threat from the people that didnâ€™t want to be seen than any faceless crowd or silent parking lot. And he would never go somewhere his contact knew better than him.<br/><br/>A human male that Hyperion didnâ€™t recognize was waiting in what had once been an administrative office. Now it was piled with junk and he crushed more than a single needle underfoot. The stranger studied Hyperion warily, and he regarded the man with dismissive contempt. Hyperion smiled while the man explained himself however. Vampires and abductions. It took most of his self control not to laugh. Damn leeches couldnâ€™t do a thing for themselves. This only proved it.<br/><br/>How hard could it be?<br/><br/>Hyperion studied the picture heâ€™d been given. Pretty girl. Worth all the trouble and cash? She was to someone. So he hoofed it down the city streets, heading for the one place he knew he could get a little information on what a leech was interested in. If vampires knew a girl well enough to want her taken, not killed, that meant she knew vampires. There were few enough places numbers of vampires would congregate. Few enough places to find what he was looking forâ€¦<br/><br/>Sinz was not a place Hyperion had ever been, nor a place he had ever wanted to go. It reeked of parasites and the kind of human followers that made him sick. However, it was the last place he knew for certain his prey had been and the best place to begin his search.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">--------</div><br/><br/>Kalab waited with his head cocked to one side, listening. He could hear her move around the space; could sense a pattern of unease. Finding his other half had taken far too long. Everything about her was as erratic as ever, and an odd comfort to Kalab. Nehmahatiâ€¦ She was just there, on the other side of the wall. And he had to decide whether he would wait until she was a little more prepared or reveal himself before she fled again. There was so much danger to her. Danger she wouldnâ€™t recognize. Kalab had struggled with the decision day in and day out, observing Nehmahatiâ€™s routines. Nothing had given him away because heâ€™d kept his distance.<br/><br/>She probably wouldnâ€™t know him yet. His Nehmahati wouldnâ€™t have a clue how much he loved her, that she was his only spot of heat and passion, or that he needed her â€“ that they needed each other â€“ to be whole. And that without her, he couldnâ€™t even make up his mind. All things more or less equal, it was her ideals that prompted him to choose a path.<br/><br/>He pressed his hand to the cool glass of the window, looking in from the fire escape. In the  days heâ€™d hesitated to make a decision, something had happened to make Nehmahati try to run again. No, he couldnâ€™t leave her alone anymore. â€œNehmahati,â€ he muttered, rapping gently on the glass. â€œLet me in, dear heart.â€