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___________________Find what you____________________________________
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tab [💦]Denham was the kind of city your average television parents would warn their kids against. It was the place you took the route around instead of the route through, even if that meant extending your road trip by an hour. If you were an average Joe or Jane, you simply didn't go near the place. Normal folk would never dream of stepping foot in Denham for fear of their very souls. Their minds ran wild with gory scenarios: flesh being shaved from bone, bone from marrow; streets running red with murderous blood, and the air foul with the sickly aroma of death; predators lurking in the shadows of graffiti tainted alleyways, or hunger looking them straight in the face as they moved with trepidation down the cracked pavement; dark basements littered with bones, clubs awash in crime without punishment; and monsters grinning with an invitation to die. But the city was alive with all of those living beneath the status quo. It was a refuge for the abnormal, a home for the hated.
Like every city, Denham had its seedy side and its upper class side. This particular story has its roots in the seedier side of Denham, of course. Why would the upper echelon of society pose any sort of interest? Fine dining in five star restaurants every night, flats with skyline views and surround sound to blast that Barry Manilow, sports cars with convertible tops and red paint, boutiques with million dollar price tags and haute couture, men in business suits complete with waistcoats and H&M scarves; who wanted to look into that lifestyle? Denham boasted a more colorful population downtown. That's where the scandal happened, the late nights, the lurking, the chills in spines, the cheap coffee and cheap liquor, the unheard of music playing on someone's internet, the dirty dancing, the racy and ripped clothes, the junkyard cars and old bikes, the below ground apartments with flickering lights, the gambling dens and prostitutes; now you've got a story worth hearing, sweetheart.
Sounds like any city, no? Of course. Here's the catch: monsters. Monsters were very real in Denham streets. Vampires, lycans, half-breeds, and minorities of more rare and unique races. These feared creatures swarmed the downtown of Denham in hopes of fitting in somewhere. Even the humans with natural sympathies and obsessions for the inhuman lived in the melting pot. Half-breeds popped up everywhere due to humans and monsters coupling. Girls fell in love with vampires, wolf boys fell in love with human hearts, and there was enough love to fill the globe happening right in Denham's downtown. It was a wonderful and frightening place all at once. While there was love, there was also heinous crime. You couldn't have all saintly vampires and lycans. There would always be your fair share of evil. Crime couldn't be stopped. It just so happened monsters did crime better than humans. It was a problem for tourism.
Why wasn't there someone who could keep these creatures in order? Because there were two very strong vampires fighting for that right. What Denham lacked was a master vampire; a vampire with enough power, ability, and influence to head an entire city with allegiance from all races. On one hand there was Zane Zoey, an arrogant youth who climbed the ladder of power in an unconventional way. Nobody stood in his way, not because nobody tried, but because everybody died. Zane murdered his way through the power food chain until he ran smack into one Mr. Yale Yorkshire. Zane's arrogance and impressive strength wasn't enough to fell an old soul with patience. Yale was wise and steadfast, never hasty. He could outwit an angry kid all day everyday. Unfortunately, Denham was split between the two. Denham was just waiting for one to get ahead, for followers to convert. Many adored Zane's brash, bold style, thought him a fearless innovator. Then there were those who respected Yale's clear and calculated manner, open mind and wide view. Yale saw the big picture while Zane saw what was in front of him.
Yale and Zane fought tirelessly, tried to kill each other. Neither one could ever win big enough to overthrow the other. Denham would remain torn until a master was chosen. While Zane went around stepping on toes and bashing heads in, shouting his arrogant words at crowds, stirring riots, Yale was quietly purchasing businesses with his smooth talk, slipping candy out of the hand's of babes, and closing the doors of many establishments to Zane and his sympathizers. In fact, Yale owned most of the popular hangouts downtown, and even a few reputable establishments uptown. He dabbled here and there and everywhere, rubbing everyone the right way in quietude. He was suave and cosmopolitan, dapper and seductive. Zane lacked finesse. Zane screeched and beat. It grew tiresome and tactless. Yale was a strategist.
The night was cold as it was nearing the end of the year. Yale was leaving one of his few high end restaurants, smooth jazz filtering out of the doors behind him. He tugged his expensive collar up and slipped his hands into his fur lined pockets. His tailored suit was on the antique side, what with its obvious channeling of the late Victorian era. He was born in the seventeen hundreds, so the highlight of his vampiric life was the eighteen hundreds. It was a golden age for him, the age he felt the most secure in. Oh, he'd evolved with the times, of course, but he always carried pieces of his past inside of him. Yale was a fashion pioneer with his throwback style being effortlessly married to the modern world. Yale was an admired individual, most respected, for he never lost his impeccable manners. He was the obvious choice for master vampire, but idiots.
There was no need for a car when you were a vampire. Speed was one of Yale's strongest points. He could get from point A in uptown to point B in downtown in a minute or less. Class to trash in zero to sixty. Ah, but Yale always improved his businesses once he owned them. Repairs, redecorating, etc. He never allowed the original business to lose its appeal, however, and so he was quite know for improving trash to polished trash. Folks liked that. They didn't want to turn into the posh upper class; they wanted their grunge and blood. Yale let them have their grunge and blood, just with style. He owned countless clubs and cafes, shops and dives. Soon enough, Zane wouldn't have a place to wreck. The uptown would certainly tear him apart if he migrated there. Yale was buying up the entire downtown to force Zane out.
Yale rummaged around in his pocket for his keys. The key ring was so full of keys it was amazing he could fit it in his pocket. He plucked the skeleton key to his coffee joint and opened the side door. The smell of roast coffee hit his sensitive nose, and he gave a sniff. Bah, he never was fond of coffee, but this place was popular. No, he couldn't drink coffee, but it was the smell he was never fond of. If he couldn't drink coffee, then what was he doing in a restaurant moments ago? Business. He owned the place, and he had customers who were important, customers who were selling. Yale was interested in buying almost any commercial property. Residential if it was a complex. Business deals were his special moves.
"Hey, Mr. Yorkshire," a female voice called out to him as he walked down the back hall towards the office. She was coming from the staff lounge, and her name was Tiffany. She was a half-breed: half human and half lycan. Her smell irritated Yale, but she was a good employee.
"Ms. Tiffany," Yale greeted with a bow of his head in passing.
Unlocking the office, Yale pushed inside and turned the light on. With a sigh, he shrugged out of his coat and smoothed his hands over his waistcoat, fingers brushing over the antique pocket watch that had belonged to his father. It was very old, and it needed maintenance often, but Yale had a guy. The cufflinks on his crisp shirt had belonged to his grandfather, and they were solid gold encrusted with rubies. Yale was a rich man, and he used his wealth wisely. He used it to win, to improve, to repair. Hardly did he use it frivolously. Frivolity wasn't in his nature. He was a man with a budget. Really sounds uptight, doesn't he? Oh, but he's not.
After rifling through the mail on his desk, Yale stepped out into the actual coffee shop to check in on things. There was another crowd tonight, as usual. Tiffany was doing a great job, though Yale thought hiring another girl would be beneficial. Work would get done faster. Ah, but he didn't have the time to think about such trifles. Unless he saw a dire need, he wouldn't worry about it.
"Has business been this good all evening?" Yale asked as he stepped behind the counter to assess the inventory outside the stockroom.
"Yes, sir," Tiffany replied, turning her back to the register to offer her boss a little grin. "Where've you been at? You're all dressed up."
"I'm always formal, my dear," Yale said, throwing the girl a crooked smile. "I've been on business at my restaurant uptown. I have an offer to buy a cafe. I may take it, but it's further uptown. Not quite in the area I'm interested in."
"Oh," Tiffany breathed. "Hey... are you--"
"Customer," Yale interrupted, nodding towards the front.
With Tiffany occupied, Yale fixed up a display or two. He knew what she wanted to ask, and the answer was no. Yale wasn't interested in having a one night stand with a lycan halfling. Her scent was nauseating, but it wasn't her fault. Still, Yale only slept with lycans if he needed something out of one. He never did it for pure pleasure. Vampires and humans were his preferred bed buddies, though he wasn't sure when the last time he had sex for actual pleasure was. Everything was business. His time for leisure flirting was limited.
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