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The Necromancer pushed the door open and stepped inside. He sniffed sharply, frowning at the air, thick with the scent of blood and fear.

The room was a dark dungeon and was decorated appropriately, its walls made of obsidian that seemed to absorb the light from the flickering torches. The Necromancer would have been fixated on Vladimir\'s obsession with dungeons if not for the other presence in the room.

In the center of the room, a shirtless vampire knelt on the cold floor, his body bloodied and broken. Chains anchored him to the ground, rattling slightly as he shivered in pain. By the dried blood on his skin, The Necromancer could tell that he was completely out of vitality.

Vladimir stood beside the man, his tall frame casting a long shadow over the kneeling prisoner. It all looked like something out of the set of a medieval movie.

Vladimir acknowledged the Necromancer with a nod before moving to a throne-like chair positioned directly in front of the trembling vampire. The prisoner kept crying softly. the sound echoing through the chamber like the pitiful wail of a ghost.

The Necromancer bowed slightly to Vladimir, maintaining the necessary decorum, though his mind was already racing with questions. Why had he been summoned here, to this dark, cold place?

His eyes flicked over to the prisoner, taking in the sight of the beaten vampire, and his curiosity deepened. Vladimir didn\'t need him to threaten people or keep his people in line. He was perfectly capable of doing that himself.

Vladimir, now seated, leaned back in his chair, an expression of cold indifference pasted on his face. "I summoned you here, Necromancer, because I have a gift for you." He said as he shifted his attention to the Necromancer.

The Necromancer straightened, his eyes flicking to the prisoner. He hoped this wasn\'t what he was thinking of. "A gift, my lord?" He asked, hiding the part of him that was already wary. Gifts from Vladimir were rarely given without strings attached.

"How is the task coming along?" Vladimir asked, changing the subject.

"There\'s been very little progress." The Necromancer answered. He\'d been prepared for questions like this. "They\'ve been staying completely at the Old Museum. If they don\'t come out, I\'ll have no opportunities to complete the task."

Vladimir waved dismissively to the kneeling vampire, who whimpered softly, the chains rattling with his movements. "I know the task I set before you is... difficult."

You don\'t say. The Necromancer muttered in the safety of his thoughts.

"Those two are not your run of the mill vampires. It will require all of your strength and cunning to get hold of them. So, I offer you this prisoner to add to your undead horde. Consider it a token of my... support."

The vampire, realizing the fate that awaited him, began to beg. "Please, my lord, show mercy! I was wrong! I-"

Vladimir turned sharply to the prisoner, silencing him with a single look, the slow spinning of his eyes like a final sentence. "This," he said with a sneer, "is your reward for treachery. You betrayed me, feeding information to Helena, captain of the peacekeepers, and thus to Countess Yuri. Did you think there would be no consequences?"

The prisoner\'s cries of fear and desperation filled the room once more, but Vladimir ignored him, turning his attention back to the Necromancer.

"There\'s one way into the Old Museum." Vladimir said. "Use my gift to get to the peacekeeper and captain and through her, you get a route into the Old Museum."

With a final nod, he stood and left the room, the heavy door closing behind him with a loud thud.

The Necromancer watched Vladimir leave, his mind racing. He\'d known Vladimir didn\'t give \'gifts\' for no reason. He wasn\'t a man that acted without purpose, and this gesture, seemingly generous, was his plan to hasten the death of Ivo and Armand.

But why had Vladimir chosen to give him a vampire today of all days? Adding a new vampire to his undead ranks required an immense expenditure of his own vitality, leaving him weakened for a time.

It was a vulnerability, one that Vladimir was most likely aware of. While the Necromancer knew Vladimir wouldn\'t dispose of him now, the timing of this \'gift\' was suspicious.

His thoughts flicked to his upcoming meeting with Ezra later that night. He unconsciously thanked any deity in charge of coincidences. It was a good thing that the plan with Ezra didn\'t involve him fighting.

He\'d need all his strength intact for whatever might happen. But here, in this dungeon, he had no choice. If he refused Vladimir\'s gift, it could be seen as an affront, a sign of defiance.

That was not a path he wanted to tread lightly. Or right now.

He turned his attention back to the prisoner, who had ceased his begging and now stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. The Necromancer\'s lips curled into a faint smile, one without a hint of warmth or mercy.

"Sorry buddy." He shrugged helplessly. "You shouldn\'t have betrayed your Count. Or at least, not get caught. That\'s like Subject 101."

"Please! No! I can give you whatever you want!" The prisoner begged. "Whatever you freaking want!"

"You can\'t give me Ezra Matten." The Necromancer whispered as drew a bone knife from his cloak.

The prisoner\'s scream echoed through the chamber, a final, desperate sound before the Necromancer plunged the knife into his heart.

The man\'s blood poured out of the moon and the Necromancer sank his teeth in, drinking deeply. He always did enjoy vampire blood more than any other blood. A minute later, he dropped the body, smacking his lips.

"Time to make you mine."