Magdalena pushed the doors open, an air of devil-may-care about her, smirking as she descended into the plush seat facing a large mahogany desk. On the other side of the desk, sat a woman (demon technically), her eyes a vibrant green were offset by her alabaster skin, naturally red lips, and tendrils of black hair that spilled in soft ringlets down her back and over her shoulders. She was the kind of person, or immortal rather, where when you glanced at her, depending on the light, she either seemed to be 25 years old or 55 years old. She had a balance of youth and aged elegance that was utterly tantalizing and equally as dangerous.
Magdalena simply say back in her seat, the woman's appearance nothing new or startling to her, and toyed with the cigarette between her lips. The woman across the desk raised the corners of her lips with a mischievous tug. "Now, now, Magdalena. You know the rules. No smoking inside."
Magdalena laughed gruffly, and shot a steely-eyed glance over to the woman, smirking. "Its Vegas. Besides Lil, you never struck me as one who follows the rules."
Lilith laughed in response, her laugh a delicate, tinkling one with undertones that suggested this was one of many laughs she had, this one indicating pure amusement. "I suppose you're right, love. Need a light?" She leaned forward and with the snap of her perfectly manicured fingers, a dancing blue flame appeared between her thumb and middle finger.
Magdalena raised an eyebrow, muttering, "Don't mind if I do," before leaning in with her cigarette and allowing the blue flame to nip at the end until it was lit. Magdalena leaned back, inhaled deeply, and stretched her booted feet out before her as one would on vacation.
Soon, she exhaled and underneath the cloud of smoke, she asked smoothly, "So, whatcha need this time, Lil? Someone run out on a deal again? Does this require breaking knees or hearts because frankly, both of the last times I did either of those they didn't go well."
Lilith glanced absentmindedly at her nails, shaking her head. "To be fair you go the job done. But no, Magdalena. This isn't as much for me as it is for you."
Magdalena raised an eyebrow, nervously rolling the cigarette between her fingers. "For me?" She asked slowly.
"Well," Lilith drawled, "Before I found you, when you were just a pup, hanging around those thugs you wanted to call family-"
"Pack."
Lilith clenched her teeth before smiling to conceal her disdain and sliding Magdalena an ash tray, "Yes, pack. Well, this is a precursor to even them. A precursor to this life."
Magdalena felt something somber and heavy settle in her chest as she leaned forward and crushed the cigarette in the ash tray. She could see his face in the cigarette smoke. "Oh," was all she could muster to say.
"I understand a certain individual is responsible for your change, correct?" Lilith studied Magdalena as she said this, and Magdalena knew it too. She fought the urge to come out of her skin at the memory of that night, five years ago. The coppery scent of blood filled her nostrils and mouth, and she could feel the asphalt ripping at her fingers as she clawed to hang onto the side of the road from where she was being ripped. The scars from that night still hadn't healed. The healing abilities of a werewolf only went so far, so she lived with the inscription of that night along her legs and the left side of her face.
It took a moment for her to snap back into reality. Lilith had kept talking, but Magdalena felt like she was under water. She'd been barely swimming these past few years, and now confronted with the past, felt as though she were drowning.
"I'm sorry," She said stiffly, shaking her head, "What-what does he have to do with anything?"
Lilith opened a drawer in her desk and slapped a manila folder onto its surface. "See for yourself. He's been quite the trouble-maker."
Magdalena's frozen fingers, numbly found themselves opening the folder and flipping through various police records, hospital records, newspaper clippings and finally, a picture. He was younger there, his freckles more pronounced and eyes seemingly lighter, less predatory. He was smiling in the mugshot, with the kind of smile that said he knew something you didn't. Attached to the picture was an arrest record.
"Coleman Morrison Andrews." Magdalena said aloud. She had never known his name. She's barely even been able to register his scent before he had changed her and left her for dead in the desert. Now, she could find him. He wasn't a ghost anymore.
"He's been causing a problem," Lilith began to explain, "for me, and many other powerful people. We speculate that he's hunting purely for sport. He's drawing too much attention to Vegas. The OuterLands belong to the packs, yes, but even they are wary of Mr. Andrews."
Magdalena set the photo down, her jaw clenched. "So, where do I come in, in all of this?"
"Simple," Lilith smiled, "you eliminate a threat to all of us here in Sin City, and you also get the satisfaction of killing the man who took your life from you."
Magdalena's eyes bore into the photo, hoping that somehow, somewhere, he could feel it. She hoped he knew. She was coming for him. "The fucker still has my old man's lighter," Magdalena drawled, her stormy eyes narrowed. "When do I start?"