HEAR THE BOOM BOOM BOOM OF YOUR HEART [c]

It wasn't often he got summoned places. More often than not those who needed him found him, at least when he let them, and they conducted business in the safety of one of Nikolai's many less homes, where he felt most secure meeting them. Perhaps it was silly, his faint paranoia, but though he rarely let it control his life, it sometimes came in handy when it came to the lifestyle he now lead. A life of relative seclusion and inconspicuousness negated the need for protection, for security, as one's name was never important enough for high powers to bother with, or lower ones to conspire against. Once one's name was out there, however--once one was known, if only by aforementioned name as opposed to face--that little extra bit of security, of protection, of confidence and assurance, was often vital. Powerful people wouldn't do business with one such as him if they thought he was unstable, and he had been doing this too long to risk the ire of those more influential than him.

It was why he almost never met his contacts, the wealthy and the affluential of vampiric society, in their own homes. Nikolai was no fool, he knew he had enemies, and it would be stupid of him to overlook the fact that even those he had assisted upon might turn on them, should it suit their needs. It was why he kept his gift a secret--his ability to vanish at will, the chameleon-like talent that let him move through crowds, through forests, seen but unseen, folded in their memories but always hidden--from everyone, so that it could not be used against them. The illusion always became a little bit harder to maintain when people were aware of it, after all, though not so hard that Nikolai couldn't manage it with concentration instead of the easy transition he used on a regular basis.

This, however, was a request he couldn't refuse, not without losing the small amounts of influence he had built with the vampire Aleksandr, a well-known name in the upper community; a name Nikolai had always heard, though it had held more prominence in the past, among gilded walls and shining palaces filled with the rustling of silken skirts and sultry smiles hidden in the eyes of the court occupants. Though he wasn't partial to what the request was--it would be told to him upon arrival, or so the message had been--he would have been a fool to ignore it, and Nikolai was no fool. So he travelled under the guise of his gift, allowing no one to see him until he reached the grand house that marked the currently living space of the well-known vampire.

For a moment, Nikolai just eyed it carefully, silently comparing it to other residences he had seen in his lifetime; to the frigid splendour of the Winter Palace to his own estates, the ones he had grown up in three centuries ago, and finally to the estate he had once lived in as little as--

He frowned pensively, reaching up to brush an errant piece of hair from his face, where it had fallen irritatingly over his forehead. Melancholy got one nowhere, and it certainly hadn't been the reason for Nikolai's elevation. Though he missed the comforting presence at his side, and the amused eyes with the warm laugh that just always seemed to know all the answers, delighting in drawing them out as Nikolai frowned in displeasure--missed it so much that he sometimes couldn't function, not entirely, spending entire days just sitting in one of the darker rooms of one of his estates, twisting the ring on his right index finger for hours, sliding it from there to his thumb--reflecting on the missing wouldn't help him.

It was with that decisive thought that Nikolai let his gift taper out, rendering him visible as he left the shadows and moved towards the house, the mask of an aristocrat sliding over his face effortlessly, like breathing had once been. It was amazing how society could change so much, but the rich and affluential still enjoyed being catered too like they were the most important people in the world, no matter how false the smiles around them were; no matter how bald-faced the worlds spoken.

Doorbells were something Nikolai had an irrational dislike for--the very act of reaching out and pushing one made him have to repress a jolt as he raised his hand--but he rang it and stepped back swiftly, waiting in silence, his face flat, for it to open.

He was surprised, though he kept it under wraps, when a young-looking woman opened the door, her brown hair framing a slender face around the crimson of her eyes.

"I am one he sent for, yes," Nikolai replied, and though his Russian accent wasn't as thick and awkward as it had been upon his first learning the English language, it had not vanished completely, curling around his words with a fluidity that rivalled the movements of a graceful cat. "He has neglected mentioning you, though, I fear." Nikolai tilted his head downwards a little in a subtle gesture of deference and respect. From the way she was dressed he knew this was no servant, and that whoever she was, she was important.

The woman put him on edge. There was no skittering around that fact, no pretending that it wasn't there--Nikolai had learned, very early on, that pretending a problem didn't exist was the best way of getting shredded by it in the future--and absolutely, under no circumstances, would he allow her to know that she had thrown him off even for a moment. It wasn't a feeling Nikolai was familiar with, and he had to take an internal moment to calm the ire that had risen against Aleksandr, but he also gently chided himself with the fact that he hadn't been entirely prepared for it. Logically, he should have expected it--Aleksandr was a high-ranking vampire, and it was natural that he'd have others serving him, whether human or other vampires--but for whatever reason...

But it didn't matter. He was here for a reason, he was here for business, and he would not be deterred from it. Business was what drove him, after all, the accomplishing of tasks that ranged from insulting simple to agonisingly difficult, and if he loosened the reigns on that for even a singular second the grief and the anger would wash back and he would once more lose his mind to the cold blackness of hatred and anger.

For a moment, Nikolai assessed her silently, red eyes flickering across her form, before he gave a curt nod and allowed himself to be motioned inside, taking the steps from the safe outdoors into the smothering atmosphere of Aleksandr's house. It was a surprise, the feel of the house itself, for even its sheer grandeur could not disguise that fact that the place felt enclosed, like the windows were only there to give an illusion or lighthearted freedom and something other than suffocating darkness. When the door closed behind him, his eyes immediately sought the figure of the female vampire, determined not to turn his back on her until he knew, once and for all, whether she was a threat to him or not. Of course, his movements, when he did so, were subtle enough to not cause offense, merely the natural steps of an aristocrat, poised and even, with no visible imperfection, but it would not do to cause offence where no offence was due.

That was a lesson he had learned young, back when his appearance had stilled changed from year to year; back when he grew bigger, back when he grew older. He had been taught by his father that, as the only male Belanov heir, the fortunes of their family rested on him. He would have to curb his tongue where it could not wag, and use it instead to defer praise to his higher-ups even when it was, in his opinion, not due. Furthermore, he had learned that his opinions did not matter--could not matter--unless he learned to express them in a way that would make those who outranked him think it was their idea. He would have to be useful, but not... obstructive in his usefulness. Subtly was the name of the game, or so he had often been told, and after he had been turned, it was one of the first things Steinitz had repeated to him as he learned the ins and outs of his new life.

He was about to turn and answer the girl's words with some of his own when the smarmy voice of Aleksandr reached his ears, and he diverted his attention immediately to the other male vampire, keeping his mouth closed as he exchanged words with the girl. The antagonistic tone of the female registered as odd in his mind, though, and it was only through sheer experience that he prevented the small frown from flickering across his face.

This girl is much more important than suspected.

Nikolai's attention was readily grabbed by Aleksandr once more, however, and he allowed his mind to relax and subconsciously guide his movements as they all slipped into the lavishly decorated room. Nikolai's eyes, however, didn't seek out any of the finery, instead remaining respectfully on the forms of Aleksandr and whom his mind was carefully identifying as his mate.

"I keep myself out of as much trouble as possible," Nikolai said after Aleksandr's inquiry, though his wasn't foolish enough to think the other vampire meant the sentimentalities. "But yes, it has been long time, and I am as well as can be. Spaseeba." He inclined his head lightly, eyes flickering between the two vampires. "I trust you have been same, da?"