~I often give myself such very good advice...
On her way into Robin's house, a piece of her bag had dropped to the ground, unnoticed by her since the bag was black and it blended into the night. As the door closed a series of vampires slunk out of the area around Robin's house. She was familiar to some vampires as a slayer and a terror to them. Some of them had been severly injured by her in a way that couldn't be healed, but left to live in their pain. They desired to destroy her, but they couldn't cross the threshold of her house without an invitation, and they didn't dare take her on outside. As these weaker, rejected vamps started to gather on Robin's doorstep, one of the more ragged looking of them picked the piece of Cassie's bag up from the ground. Sniffing it, he handed the piece of bag off to another vampire, scarred almost beyond recognition who passed it on to another each sniffing the piece of bag as it went along.
They couldn't punish Robin herself, but they could punish those foolish enough to work with her. This girl was now protected in Robin's home, but the girl might have family nearby. The vampires on Robins door, looked at each other, and without even saying a word argeed they would track down the sent of this girl and trace her back to her home. Together they turned and started walking down the street.
A half hour later there was a pounding on the door of the McKnight manor door. Patrice, the head maid was aroused by the sound. Quickly she threw on a robe, and started to bustle to the door to answer it as she tied the robe on. "Who could that be at this ungodly hour?" she asked no one. She was understandly cross since any decent person would be in bed by now, and not bothering her. Opening the door, she stuck her head out and asked. "Yes, how can I help you?" she asked. Her question was answered by a set of claws sliding across her neck splattering the doors with blood and killing her instantly. The vampires that had traced Cassie's sent to her home, barged into the manor with an eye singled on killing as many in the house as they could. They could gorged themselves on the blood of their victims when all was done. There was no need to leave a message explaining why this had happened. if the girl was hanging with a slayer, she'd figure it all out on her own soon enough.
...but I very rarely listen~
"Well, you can't win them all, love." he answered smartly, his southern British accent clear, yet gruff like the growls that so often escaped his parted lips.
Tail swaying behind him with bristled irritation, he lifted himself onto his hind legs, his own claws bared, fangs gleaming in the dim, cloud-covered moonlight. Leaping towards her with an inhuman agility, he went to strike again. His attacks were primative, and beautifully simple. They lacked a sence of finesse though. A layer of showmenship, and grace. Something that Wolves just weren't capable off. As he darted at her she easily fliped over him, landing delicately on the other side of him, then turning she directed a kick right into his spine sending him foreword. She then pulled her silver dagger out of her boot, and in one quick motion, shoved it into his torso from behind. She made sure to avoid his vital organs. It wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt and start to bleed. Eventually he would need to stop fighting or die of blood loss, but he would still be able to last a lot longer then a human would with the same injury. Chuckling cruelly she pushed harder on the dagger, digging it harder into him before pulling back, and glaring at him, the dagger clasped in her hand dripping with blood.
~I want you to suffer, the way I have suffered~