The one he protected stood behind him. Undeservedly so. Ember was an anchor at his side. She had the power to call The Mother, the life force of the sea, but what good was she this far inland, where trees were the scenescape instead of waves? He narrowed his obsidian gaze on the ten of the Faction who stood before him. Honor-less vampires that he had fought beside or, in some cases, had killed. They circled him now as he infinitesimally mirrored their movements, blocking their view of Ember. “Constantine,” the one in the front said in greeting. “Aye,” Con answered with typical wariness, his large hands hung loose at his sides. Ready. “We seek an audience with you.” Con was surprised despite being on his guard. “You have a mighty fucked up way of showing you wish to chat.” His eyes scanned the gloom easily; his mixed-blood aided his night vision. Being of so many different ethnicities was no small advantage to his physical prowess. It was the prejudice that Con had faced from the other supernatural groups that had given him such grief.
