London mornings belong to two kinds of people: the hustlers and the Predators lurking in the shadows.
When Emily and Adrian came out of the antique shop, the sun was shining, dispelling the chill of the long night, but not the solemn atmosphere between them.
Emily still had the soreness of basement training, and every step reminded her that she'd stepped into a world she couldn't turn back.
"Who is this 'dealer' we're looking for?" Emily asked in a low voice, her eyes scanning every shadow on the street corner.
"A woman who lived a long time," Adrian said simply. "Her name was Lilith and she ran a bar. It was a place. . . where new faces were not welcome."
Instead of taking a taxi, they turned into alley after alley known only to locals. London presents a different face at their feet, its modern glass walls replaced by ancient masonry and graffiti. The air has changed from the smell of coffee to the stale smell of dampness and the sour smell of rubbish.
Finally, they came to a stop at the end of a dead end. In front of me was a brick wall covered with ivy, painted in faded paint with a giant one-eyed raven.
"This is it?" Emily looked at the wall, puzzled.
Adrian didn't answer. He reached out and tapped the Raven's one eye five times in a certain rhythm.
The walls made a low, grinding noise, and the whole wall slid away to reveal a step down.
There was a smell of alcohol, tobacco, and exotic spices, along with a hint of blood.
The interior of the bar was larger than Emily had imagined, and more... ... strange and colorful. There are no windows, and the light comes from the countless glass bottles of glowing liquid hanging from the ceiling, giving the space an eerie purple color.
Behind the bar, a woman in a Victorian corset is polishing a skull-shaped wine glass. Her skin was pale, but her lips were red as blood, and her long silver hair hung in intricate braids down to her waist.
The customers at the bar were even more strange. In a corner, a man in a suit with no face was quietly reading a newspaper, and a group of creatures with horns and tails sat around a table, arguing bitterly in a language Emily didn't understand Another voluptuous woman was licking the red liquid in her glass with her long, forked tongue.
Emily felt as if she had fallen into the Grimms' dark version of the fairy tales. All the"People" here seemed to take their arrival for granted, but with a few curious or malicious glances, they went on with their business.
"Adrian, my old friend." The Woman Behind the bar looked up, her voice languid and Husky, with a faint smile, "I thought you were dead in a gutter somewhere. What brings you here, a living fossil who hasn't been out of the house for decades?"
That's Lilith. She looked past Adrian to Emily, her dark purple eyes flashing with interest.
"And a fresh offering? The Carter Girl, isn't She? I can smell the old indenture in your blood."
"Lilith, I don't have time to catch up with you." Adrian came to the bar, his voice hard. "I need information. About Silas Draco."
Lilith let out a chuckle that sounded like a silver bell. "Silas? Oh, dear, that's a big client. His information. . . is expensive." She held up a finger with black nail polish and tapped the bar. "You know my rules. Quid pro quo."
"What do you want?"
Lilith's eyes turned to Emily again. "I want a drop of her blood." She licked her lips. "Carter's blood. It's a good brew. Haven't tasted it in a long time."
Emily felt a chill. Adrian stepped in front of her.
"Change the terms," he said with a warning in his voice.
"Well, that's boring." Lilith shrugged, as if disappointed. "Then. . . in exchange for a promise. The Van Helsings owe me a favor. You, or she, will have to do something for me in the future when I need it. Anything."
Adrian was silent. The Van Helsings' favor is worth more than a drop of blood.
"We'll do it," Emily said before Adrian could speak. She came out from behind Adrian and looked lilith straight in the eye. "But your information must be worth it."
Lilith looked at Emily with a little approval in her purple eyes. "Bold. I like it." She pulled an old scroll from under the bar and wheeled it over. "Here's what you want."
Adrian took the scroll and unfolded it. Above is a detailed map of the London Underground, much more complex than the one he projected in the antique shop. The map is marked with a few places in red ink.
"Silas has been very active lately, recruiting for his blood moon ceremony," Lilith said casually as she wiped her glass, "The sites of these markers are his most recent outposts for the transformation of new Nightwalkers, the largest of which is under the former abattoir in London."
She paused, then added, "Oh, yes, he's got a lot of people he's using as ritual blood banks. Maybe your naive brother is one of them."
Emily's heart sank.
"One more thing." Lilith put down her glass, leaned forward, and lowered her voice, "Silas has brought in a helper from the east, a purifier. The Man is a madman. He doesn't belong to any faction. He's here to kill. He's been cleaning up some of the town's unruly underlings in a very... ... clean You'd better be careful."
Just then, the bar door was pushed open again. A figure in a black trench coat and hood walked in. He carried with him a strong smell of blood and disinfectant, where the surrounding guests are subconsciously retreat, showing fear.
The man went straight to the bar and dropped a bloody cloth bag on the counter.
"Lilith, here's what you want." His voice was hoarse, like two pieces of sandpaper.
Lilith opened the cloth bag and looked at it, frowning. "You're getting rougher, Shadow Blade."
The man known as"The dark blade" ignored her and turned his head in the direction of Adrian and Emily. Though she couldn't see his face, Emily could feel a cold, unfeeling look upon her.
Adrian's body tightened, and his hand was on the hilt of his sword.
The atmosphere in the bar was freezing.
"I've come just in time." The blade smiled huskily. "Just in time to save me from looking for you again. Master. . . please go and be my guest."
Before he could say it, he was a shadow, appearing before Emily, a hand in tactical gloves clutching her neck like a bolt of lightning.