When the line went dead and Damien's ears were left ringing with Laurent's laughter, he nearly threw the phone through the windshield of Pierre's car. He spat out a string of curses in the first languages that rolled off his tongue, not bothering to make sense of with them. A deep, hollow silence filled the car as Pierre raced through the city and Damien seethed.
"This could be a trap, you know," Pierre said cautiously after a few moments. His sire remained quiet. "It probably is."
"No one can get into the White Rabbit with the intention to kill anyone inside," Damien reminded him with a tone of annoyance, though he wasn't pointed it at his son. No, Damien had let Laurent get under his skin and as he sat idle in the passenger seat watching the dark city pass by with only a flicker of streetlights, he tried to come to terms with why. The demon's words kept playing on repeat in his head -- sweet Guillaume -- until Damien's hands started to shake.
What was this all about? Why hadn't Laurent moved on from his pursuit of Rachel? Did he track all of his former girls down like this? Would he kill Rachel now? Damien doubted it. What was more likely was that he would return her to the way things were for a while, then kill her when he was done. Anger rotted his stomach into nausea.
"So what's the plan?" Pierre asked, glancing over at him with a worried expression.
He sighed. "We talk to Laurent and find out what we can."
---
As Pierre pulled up to the curb, Damien stepped onto the pavement with the car still in motion, the rubber sole of his shoes skidding briefly on the asphalt. His chest felt tight and the shaking in his hands had moved solidly up his arms until his entire body felt engulfed by his rage. He had quelled that fury by imagining all the ways that he would kill Laurent when he saw him - complete with rending flesh between neck and head apart in the goriest of fashions. With the speed that age had provided him, Damien made his way to the front door and placed his hand on the handle.
Something hit him square in the chest, stopping him in his tracks. He released the handle aghast, unable to explain what exactly had stopped him. When he reached again for the handle, a similar reaction, only this time he stumbled backwards from the door. He could see nothing, and yet he was prevented from entering, as if a sentry had stepped into his path and pushed him. Instinctually he scanned for the mental walls of a strong one, someone with the ability to keep him out of the club, but came up empty-handed. Pierre approached as Damien cursed at the club, stumbling backwards onto his knee as he made one final attempt.
"The Rabbit's magic," Pierre said, steadying his sire as Damien rose and dusted the grime from his jeans. "You have to calm down."
"I'm going to feel his skull collapse within my hands," Damien murmured darkly, staring at the door of the White Rabbit. He jerked himself out of Pierre's grip and walked around, calming himself. Pierre was right - emotion couldn't be his companion if he had any hope of saving Rachel. He scolded himself and tried to feel the connection between himself and the ground, but his anger and terror simmered on despite his best efforts. Never before had he been so distracted by his emotions that he couldn't focus on centering himself.
With difficulty, he banished thoughts of killing Laurent from his mind, replacing them instead with the importance of Rachel's smile, the curve of her hip beneath their sheets as she slept, the way she always filled his phone with pictures of her with Delilah. He sighed and tried the door to the Rabbit again. This time, the door opened with ease and allowed both vampires to enter unresisted.
His eyes searched the bar immediately, sending out a mental pulse to take the temperature of the bar. He looked at the bartender. "Where is he?" He demanded, scaring the girl who was wiping the bar. She managed to point towards the elevator near Lisa-Joe's office and Damien wasted no time in making his way down into the Warrens.
