There he stood in the dark foggy alleyway in a dim pool of light, his fangs still barred as blood trickled down the corner of his mouth toward his well chiseled chin. As he stood there in the alley way with the woman limp in his arms he stared down the barrel of a gun being held by officer Calleigh. He was in quite a bind since she had found him this way and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to just talk his way out of this. How convenient it would have been if he could have just erased her memory but he knew that if he tried and she called for back up it would be only moments and they would be there. However, he did have one card in his hand to play that gave him a slight edge and hope for getting out of this situation. Who knew that the now seemingly fated meeting from just a month before would end up with him in a situation like this.

    The month before the current incident in the alleyway as the evening June sun shone on a small building at the edge of a bustling steam run town just as the gas street lights were preparing to be lit along with the ones on the horse drawn carriages. The last rays shone through the gaps in the drapes that hung in the windows, it could be seen stretching across the shelves of books and smaller piles that sat on end tables next to empty comfortable chairs. As the beams of afternoon sunlight lit small portions of the bookstore the dust could be seen dancing in its beams. Toward the back of the shop where the sun could not reach at a large oak desk sat the book keeper pouring over a desk filled with newspapers and clippings along with a couple piles of books with various titles. The desk, though it looked cluttered at first glance, was meticulously organized by its owner in a way that he found most efficient for completing the task he'd set for himself. The dim lighting around the desk was provided by a single antique looking desk lamp that had a stained glass globe that boasted small colorful birds in flight that were held together by copper & lead solder. As the light playfully climbed across the papers and book piles it glistened coyly off the desk's occupant's glasses. Behind the glasses were a pair of deep blue eyes set below furrowed brows as his gloved hand traced along under the words of the sentences as he read, and his long raven colored hair that had come untucked from the low ponytail, in which it had been held back, hung loosely against his well chiseled jaw. He wore a loose fitting black shirt with a matching black jabot pinned on just below the collar around his neck by a blood red ruby brooch, the ruffles of which were softly highlighted by the light from the desk lamp. Occasionally he would jot down a note with a quill on a piece of weathered paper. The air filled with the smell of leather book bindings and musty air filled the shop. The silence that hung in the air was as thick as the dust on some of the top shelves where the older volumes of forgotten books were kept. The man behind the desk was the keeper of this quiet sanctuary of books. Some volumes appeared quite old while others were relatively new. It was his task to be able to keep track of his charges and know where each one belonged and the category that they fell under. Even now his toil continued as he looked over the manuscripts that had come in. Checking them for odd wording errors or pages that may have been damaged before they came to him. Then, he would consider where to place it in the collection or even attempt to repair the weary well worn traveler before he placed it on the shelves amongst the others of similar category. 

     As he continued his work at the desk hunched over the book which he was making notes on, for the one before him was worn and quite old, the soft silver jingle of the bell over the door broke the silence of the bookstore. At the sound the bookkeeper looked up over the edge of his glasses to see who had entered his store. The customer before him was one he knew well and a person who he enjoyed waiting on for the elderly gentleman was always quiet and respectful of the serenity of the bookstore and the comfort that it gave to others who may enter there. The older gentleman had grizzled hair that, though it was thinning, still carefully continued to cover his head tucked under an older tweed cap. His jawline had the rough stubble from a couple days of not having shaved his wrinkled skin but his eyes still had a twinkle of fire in them as if he was a spry young man. His eyes they were almost as steely gray as the streaks in his hair. His blue jacket that he wore over a white shirt, with a white ascot hanging out untucked, was clean pressed and smartly buttoned from top to bottom. His brown slacks were also well kept along with the boots that the edges of his pants fell over. His hand leaned on a craftily carved cane that gave him the slight stability he needed as his balance was not as good as it once was and on his shoulder hung a bag with a square shaped bulge and as he pottered into the store the shopkeeper moved from behind the desk to a counter that was closer to the front of the store. 

    "Good evening Lealand", the shopkeeper said in his deep voice, "how may I assist you this evening?"  With a grin the old man replied in his slightly shaky voice, "Ah Mode it's not what ye can do for me it's what I've done for ye." Then he turned and pulled an ornate clock out of his bag. Shakily yet with care he placed the clock on the counter in front of Mode. "This is simply to thank ye for the fixing of my late wife's family heirloom. It wouldn't have meant much to many but it meant the world to me and my son so that I could pass it on to him and his young bride." Touched and slightly taken aback Mode simply replied, " it was nothing you didn't have to go to so much trouble and you've already paid me for the work." "Nonsense," Leland replied, "what ye charge isn't nearly enough and I won't take it back with me, it is yours." Gently touching the clock on the counter, a slight grin played across Mode's lips. "Very well it shall have a place of honor here in the shop." The old man smiled and touched the brim of his cap with a slight nod then he turned and went back out of the door.

     The bookstore once again returned to its peaceful atmosphere as Mode found a place for the clock on the wall behind the counter. But just as he had finished hanging the clock the door to the shop was flung open with excessive force effectively disturbing the peaceful atmosphere. And standing in the doorway as Mode turned around was someone he'd really been hoping to not see. Curly fiery red hair pulled back in a high ponytail with curled bangs and steely gray eyes dressed in a blue uniform with black pants with a blue stripe down the side tucked into a black pair of boots. The woman in the doorway stomped forward and slammed her hands on the counter. "Why is it you again!?"