Several hundred feet under the Paris Catacombs, where millions of dead lie buried, existed another type of catacombs. Where the Paris Catacombs held the dead, these catacombs hosted the undead. The tunnels were vast and housed one of the largest vampire covens ever. The tunnels went on for many miles. Each had symbols carved in them. They gave directions and helped members navigate the tunnels if they could find them and knew how to read them. Humans that wandered in seldom ever made it back out. The coven had converted many of the tunnels into rooms, personal living spaces, and public member areas.

The current ruler, Dista, held audience in her smaller throne room. She wore her long voluminous white hair in a ponytail tied high on the top of her head. It flowed straight back. It never moved. Dista was tall, over six feet of pure muscle. Dista maintained her femininity. She had curves in the right places, and she always wore a skintight outfit to prove it.

Dista sat upon her throne made of gold with mother-of-pearl inlay. Two advisers and bodyguards flanked either side. In front of her knelt a newer-turned member. Not even a year old yet. Dressed in jeans and a golf shirt, he wasn’t impressive. He went where one was not to go. “What is your name?”

The young man replied. “Burt, ma’am. Burt Johnston.”

“Burt, do you know who I am?”

“Yes, ma’am, you are Dista, our leader.” He looked at the floor. Fear oozed from his body. A palatable smell.

Dista took in a deep breath. Fear for her was as delicious as food, and she loved it. “I don’t know who made you Burt, and I don’t see why. You do not appear to be very exceptional in strength or intelligence. Either you missed the markings in the tunnels or ignored them. It doesn’t show excellent judgment. The particular corridor that you were traveling leads to a most undesirable place. The resident living there does not show himself very often. I keep it that way. If you had disturbed him, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Burt, please tell me why should I even allow you to exist another day?”

Burt looked up for the first time. “I paid the price for admittance. I gave the coven my inheritance. The coven is everything. I promise to do better.”

His tearless eyes seemed to cry but couldn’t. The sadness in his eyes made Dista pause. She sighed. “Get him out of here. Burt, don’t be in my presence for at least a hundred years.” Four mature vampires came out of the shadows, picked him up, and carried him out with his feet dragging behind him.

Dista turned to one of her advisers. “Are we finished for the day?”

“One more my queen. This should make you happy.”

As if on cue, the two double doors at the entrance of the chamber opened. Fixier and Rocsa walked in with Fixier carrying a compact bundle in his arms.

Dista smiled for the first time in days.

Fixier approached with a smirk on his face. “Dista, you are getting soft. Letting that newbie off so easy. I assume he went down the red corridor?”

Dista’s smile faded. “Yes, the red corridor, and almost made it to the black. Only two beings have walked out of the black corridor alive. You who had something to prove that day, and…” She paused for a moment, regaining her composure. “Him.” An icy shiver had run down her spine.

“You still have not found his name? I would one day like to meet, Him.”

“He controls his own actions. That wouldn’t be a good idea. I still have need of your services. Speaking of which.” Her arms indicated the baby in Fixier’s arms.

Fixier handed her the baby.

“Ha wah!” the baby screamed.

Fixier took the baby back. “The baby doesn’t appreciate vampires. That was the same reaction when Rocsa tried to hold him. It might be an instinctive thing, him being Rakshasan. Do you have any human attendants available?”

Dista nodded at someone in the back. A few moments later, a woman took the baby in her arms and started nursing him. The baby drank, contented.

“Good, that’s settled,” said Fixier. “Payment?”

“Of course. I have never failed my end of our bargains. This one was hard to get. I would like to ask why you need a saber tooth skin, but I know you wouldn’t tell me.”

One of her advisers brought forth a chest and placed it in front of Fixier.

He opened it. Few things brought forth joy to Fixier. A rare skin was one of them. He smiled, showing off four rows of razor-sharp teeth. He reached in and pulled forth the skin. “This is immaculate. Cleaned and tanned already. They did an excellent job. This should last many years. Payment accepted.” He closed and picked up the chest.

Dista said, “I have another job if you are available. This one should be easier but may take longer. There is a certain tribe, similar to the last. They live in the north near Canada. I have a map in case you need it. Same terms. Interested?”

Fixier put the chest down and thought for a moment. “I have heard that the Elder Vampire Calpurnikus had grown bored and is planning an exit ceremony.”

“Yes, the invitations are already out for next month. You are not asking for…? You want his skin?”

“Do you think you can get it, Dista? Is it beyond your capabilities? I know I could not walk into one of the oldest covens and take his skin upon his death. Can you?”

Dista shook her head. “That may be too much to ask. Even from me. But, I will see what I can do.”

“I believe in you, Dista. We have a deal.”

Dista let out a smirk. “Good. One last thing you should know. This one is a male wolf. They are not werewolves. Like the Rakshasan, they are spirit walkers.”