Ilona Paterson's Story

In a penthouse, on top of a building, in Times Square, a vampire walked aimlessly. The back of her ling, black silk nightgown dragged across the floor and her robe hung limply on her white shoulders. Veronique's face held no expression, as it often did after almost 700 years of life. Time had a way of removing things like emotion, and color, at least for a vampire. Now, changes like this usually happen voluntarily, after a while, you want the pain to go away, so you wish it away. Soon enough it's gone and you care too little to return it.
She sighed lightly as she stepped onto her balcony and looked down onto the streets, they held so much life, so much potential, and they didn't understand, nor would they ever, just how precious their time was, and what eternity really is. Slowly, she lifted her wine glass to her mouth and sipped on refrigerated alternative. It was beyond foul, but she could survive on it for now. From the side of her already lips, a droplet of blood ran down. She was hungrier than she thought. One black painted finger came to her chin and whisked it away. She stared at it in the light coming from her grey and simple home. It seemed duller than she remembered, for some reason she felt it should look more brilliant. Her eyes closed as she sighed in defeat. Emotions are color and vice versa, and this was a battle she lost long ago. She brought her finger to her mouth and licked the blood away as the wind blew her black, wavy hair from her face. It was pale, and finely shaped, as it should be. As any vampire's should be.
The interior of her apartment looked as if it came directly from the 20's, the only century she dared associate herself with. It was all art deco and dark times as she walked slowly through, gliding like a ghost. She would have to feed "from the hoof" soon enough, but work called her first. The covenant had known about the werewolf situation in the west. Since she was East Coast, she never really thought it worth her time, but it seems as if a certain higher up wants her on the case, and that was never a good thing. Simon. What that man lacked in moral fiber he compensated for charm and the ability to "fake it until he made it." He was her sire, and a call to duty from him was one not so easily ignored.
She set her glass down on her dining room table next to the case file she was sent. Even to her, this was a mess and judging from all of the history she read on the pack's involved, it wasn't going to get cleaner. Not without some help of course. There was something strange, something bigger than a rivalry and it was her job as a covenant officer to see to it that it was dealt with quietly.
She sifted through mounds of paper to find a form with the officer she was to be assisting in Carson City and surrounding area, a wolf, she scoffed slightly, of course it is.
"Play nice, and so will I."
With a turn of her gown she strode in her room to pack. One perk about being superhuman is the super human speed. Clothes packed, makeup on, hair done, gloves, sunglasses, hat. Time to phone the jet and get back to monotony as soon as she could.

The sky outside was dark. The small airplane window only let her see a small section of it but they were high and there was nothing much to see but black.

“Miss Paterson.”

She turned her head slowly to look at the man standing beside her. The private plane only contained Covenant employees. This man was a lower ranking officer currently playing the part of aid to her on her recently finished mission.

Grey eyes focused on him. “Yes?”

“This just came in for you.” He handed her an ipad. Ilona suppressed a sigh as she took the device. It was far quicker than paper files and she could receive information anywhere but that meant that so could others, those she was investigating, those she was checking on. Information could be changed for the right price. She preferred the old fashioned way but reluctantly used the newer technologies she had access to.

She took it from him. “Thank you.” Though directed at him her attention was already on the screen.

She scanned the file, finger swiping to the next page and the next. “Tell the pilot to head to New York. We are to pick up another officer and then once fueled our route is to Nevada.”

Ilona did not look up.

“I wish a cup of black tea when you get the moment, please.”

The aid was immediately moving about the airplane taking care of the tasks she asked.

A slender hand pushed a strand of straight blonde hair behind her ears. Murder. Werewolf. Two packs. Strife likely imminent.

She began to read over the file once more committing it all to her memory. Ilona focused on the beginning where her orders for the picking up the second investigator were written. Why two, not just her and her team was not clear but she would not argue. She was sure they had their reasons. Looking over the file there was a lot of ground to cover, a lot of people to talk to and evidence to look at. Alone it would take too long to come to a satisfactory conclusion before more random deaths occurred.

I am sure this other investigator is very competent.

Oddly in her head she still had her Russian accent though spoken language she had worked very hard to be rid of it. She still sounded foreign to her own ears but Ilona found the lack of accent better for her line of work and also her privacy. It was very difficult to tell where she was from thus making it harder to look into her. Even her name was a mix and gave little away about the woman. She never uttered her real name. She was Ilona and had been for a very, very long time.

“The captain is just clearly our change in flight plan. We should be in New York at Laguardia, the private runway of course in two hours.”

Ilona nodded and looked back out her window.