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"The vampires hunt and drink blood, the lycans hunt and eat their prey..." Maximillion runs his fingers through his hair. "I'm beginning to think it's expected of us. Let's not disappoint them, shall we?"

"No, little one. We shall not drink blood, nor eat flesh. We shall command them. Come. There are mortals about, on the streets. Choose one. Your vision is better than you allow it to be. You can see them, even if they can't see you."

Max sighed. Of course Merella had not been bred for this, but his needs for an assistant had changed somewhat. He frowned, and pointed into the darkness. "There. That woman, there. See her?"

The woman wasn't unnatractive, but neither was she very good-looking. She was a bit chubby, about forty-something in age. Short brown hair, unpierced ears. She was wearing a white sweatshirt with a picture of kermit the frog on it. The woman was walking along briskly, on her way to... somewhere.

"Take her."

The woman screamed, and broke into a run. Or at least, she tried to. She really was in a bad position for struggling, what with the dagger still inside her, ripping holes in her vitals. The strike had not been a killing blow, but she seemed determined to die nonetheless. It had caught on one of her vertebrae. She was fated for a long, slow, struggling death on the blade unless she was stabbed again, somewhere more deadly.

Max raised his hand and balled it into a fist. He glared at the woman body as she does so, and she twitches. She is clearly very much dead, but she is not collapsing to the ground as she should be. Max spoke to Merella without looking at her.

"Her name is the Duchess of Pork, and she will be your bodyguard/human shield."

Max nodded. "Yes. That's why I had you get Pork. Mr. Sharp suffered an unfortunate accident, and he will no longer be able to carry out his duties."

With Merella nodding off on his shoulder, Max maintained his patience for about an hour. Then he carefully moved her to a secluded spot on the other side of a trash can. She wouldn't get the best sleep ever, but no one would see her. And Max, as always, had business to attend to.

His actions were starting to catch the attention of some of the nightwalkers. The mortals wouldn't notice anything out of the ordinary if they saw vampires draining their neighbors dry right in front of them. Mortals believed what they wanted to. But nightwalkers were quite a bit more paranoid... not that anyone could blame them. He would have to tread lightly for a time, lest all the careful planning go to waste. Luckily, all but four of the targets had been neutralized, and then time would be on Max's side. Daisy had been a bit of trouble, but she was the exception and not the rule, as it turned out. The others had been weak and completely ignorant. They probably weren't a threat, but Max had his orders. The blood had been spread too thin on these outer worlds. "Perhaps the Elyssians are losing their touch?" he pondered to himself, toying with the idea. How appealing it was. But no. The Elysseans had, time and time again, proven that they were always two steps ahead. Whatever they had in mind, it was important enough the the master had relegated him from supervising Gan's Disc to overseeing this backwater world.

"Maybe you're being replaced," a voice in Max's head suggested. Irrational little voice. "Perhaps the master decided to appoint someone of better blood. Mats Tavlin comes to mind..."

Max tried to ignore the voice, with little success. He rarely doubted anything. He knew that he was not being replaced, and that Mats was currently off-job anyway... but using reason to try to dispel doubts was like trying to get rid of a swarm of mosquitos by drafting up a formal "cease and desist" petition.

"I'll be back to normal when I set my feet back on Distathi ground again," he muttered. But the words sounded untrue even to him.