Unraveled (Sanguine Series #4)

By Melissa R. Smith

A new Sanguine adventure! A terrible tragedy has occurred within the walls of the Militia’s head office in Bethesda, Maryland. The mass execution of Sanguines. However, not everyone in the anti-Sanguine organization is happy at the sight of the gray dust.

For Cassandra Loudermilk, one of the Militia’s lead investigators, it is just another day at the office. That is, until she learns the identity of those who were killed. Now, she is on a mission discover the traitors in her organization and expose them before she becomes their next target.

Will she risk her career with the Militia to find the only Sanguine who knows the truth? And if so, will their past connection cloud her judgment?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa R. Smith
• Release date: Oct 9, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370837571

Melissa R. Smith

I'm an independent author looking for a following. I've spent the past ten years writing in various genre's, including historical and contemporary fanfiction. However, most all of my full length novels are of the area of paranormal romance. You'll find my books to have strong, adult female characters, a touch of humor and minimal sexual content. If you like my books, please spread the word!

Book preview

Unraveled

(Sanguine Series #4)

By: Melissa R. Smith

***

Copyright 2017 - Melissa R. Smith

Smashwords Edition

Other books by this author on Smashwords:

Touch of Silver

(Sanguine Series #3)

Legacy

(Sanguine Series #2)

Color of Night

(Panthera Series #1)

Six Hours to Sunrise

(Sanguine Series #1)

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, it may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Epilogue

For Judy:

For all the times you asked when the next book was coming out. Your pushing always reminded me that what I was doing was appreciated. I only wish you could be here to read this now.

Thank you for your support and may you rest in peace, my friend.

Melissa R. Smith displays great skills in plot and character creation and readers will love the way the surprises come across in the story. She writes with confidence and in a friendly style that makes the story accessible to a wide audience. The same confidence is present in her narrative voice and in the originality of the plot concept. I love prose that is tight and that has great descriptive power, and I found it in Unraveled. I was gripped from the very beginning of the story and couldn’t stop reading till the last page, thanks to the well-imagined plot, the strong characters, and the exciting conflict. This is a beautiful offering for readers looking for entertainment in well-crafted stories that make them forget about their immediate environment, transporting them to another world with compelling characters.

- Arya Fomonyuy, Readers’ Favorite

"Revenge is a dish best served cold, and blood is thicker than water: these are painful lessons Cassandra learns in Unraveled by Melissa R. Smith. The story is an intriguing, emotional, non-stop thriller that finds the heroine, Cassandra, struggling with mixed feelings as she attempts to do her job while fighting her attraction for a Sanguine. I really enjoyed reading this paranormal romance and found Derick Upton’s character charming and entrancing. Unraveled is much more than your typical love story. It is also a wonderful whodunit that sees Cassandra trying to put the clues together as she investigates a tough case. The author has written a story that is so well developed, creative and contemplative. She highlighted the pros and cons of Sanguine and human relationships, particularly Cassandra’s. Unraveled is worth reading."

- Michelle Stanley, Readers’ Favorite

Melissa R. Smith has written a gripping paranormal romance that offers plenty of intrigue, mystery, love and heartbreak. The concepts of changes in the leadership of the Militia, the Worldwide Coalition of Elders, and a Universal Sanguine Registry are unique and build hope that the Sanguines may one day become accepted by the wider population. True emotions bring the main characters wonderfully alive and the action keeps the story moving at the perfect pace with some amazing surprises. Unraveled is certainly a book that can be enjoyed by anyone that appreciates subtlety and the feeling of a deep, abiding love and the hope for a more tolerant future. Fabulous story! I loved the surprises built in throughout the entire plot.

-Melinda Hills, Readers’ Favorite

PROLOGUE

The airplane hit unexpected turbulence, causing a thump that rocked some of the passengers awake. A flight attendant walked the aisles, carrying blankets and refilling coffee, whispering her apologies with an assurance that there was no reason for alarm. Cassandra Loudermilk was unaffected by the event, aside from the few drops of lukewarm coffee that dotted her pink blouse. She lazily swiped at the liquid as she continued to stare out the window of the British Airways flight. Her destination, Washington D.C.’s Dulles International airport and eventually to Bethesda, Maryland, to the home she hadn’t seen in over a year.

Cassandra Loudermilk was second generation Militia. From the time she could walk, she was trained by her grandfather Terrance, the Militia’s Council Head, for her future role in the anti-Sanguine organization. Living with her grandfather since she was eight years old, Terrance was her role model. He was a kind, heavy-set man with a deep, hearty laugh. Quick tempered among the Militia employees, that didn’t stop him from reading his granddaughter Dr. Seuss books at night before she went to bed or taking a half hour out of his day to join her for an impromptu tea party, complete with stuffed animals. To the adults, Terrance was the boss, but to Cassie, he was simply Pops.

Raised in a normal, middle-class home, young Cassandra was brought up with the radical ideals and moral standards of the Militia. A hatred of Sanguines. They weren’t human, Terrance told her when she was old enough to understand. Sanguines were aberrant in nature and were to be avoided at all costs. Feared and segregated from the rest of the human race.

She attended Chesapeake College and received her undergraduate degree in Criminal Justice, although she had no intention of putting it to use. Her one and only goal was joining the Militia and achieving the highest level possible as her grandfather did. She never wanted college. It was Terrance who insisted on her enrolling in the Criminal Justice program, arguing that it would teach her the basic skills needed to be a good Militia investigator. Stiff chinned and proud, but too afraid to protest, she did as he asked, diligently trudging her way through class after class for two long years. She was offered a position with the Washington Division on the day of her college graduation.

The Militia was an organization that survived on a budget that included small government funds, private donations and corporate sponsorships, so those just starting out were part-time volunteers, often taking time off from other paid employment. Cassandra’s first job was answering phones at the local police substation near her apartment. Burglar alarm calls, stray dogs, a shoplifter and an occasional teenage drunken party was her routine. Not glamorous, but it paid the bills and she learned how to interact with the public on a daily basis. It took her nearly five years of hard work and sacrifice, but she became a full-time Militia associate just three days shy of her twenty-fifth birthday.

The airplane pilot’s authoritative voice broke over the humming of the engine. Within three hours of Washington, he said as he directed the passengers to look out the window. A flat patch of fluffy white clouds blanketed most of the sky, but off to the north, everyone pointed out a land almost drowning on three sides of blue water. Newfoundland, it had to be. Cassandra saw it too, but her mind quickly wandered away. The Bethesda, Maryland office she would be returning to was less than eight months old. Finally! Cassie thought when word came of the relocation; someone had listened to her suggestion of taking over the ground floor of the Social Security building for the new headquarters. The rent was much cheaper and with other offices inside, it was a great place to blend in. It wasn’t like the Militia advertised their whereabouts, anyway. Plus, she would be back in Bethesda to take over the home she once shared with her Pops. At the whim of renters for years since Terrance’s move to Annapolis to live with his daughter, it was in need of a complete makeover.

Cassandra took very little away from her time in London. One item, a book called The Red Necklace, lay open in her lap, unread. She just couldn’t concentrate on reading or new offices or home remodeling now. Pain, both physical and mental, tore her apart to the point in which she wondered if she could ever become whole again. Feeling an emotion she thought she would never feel and knew she would not soon forget, regret. It ate at her, making her will power waver. How many times did she change her mind on the way to Heathrow? Once, twice? She couldn’t remember. It took all her resolve to make it on that plane and if it wasn’t for flying over water, she envisioned herself opening the exit door and jumping out, just to return to London. She had a thousand reasons to stay, but only one reason to return and it was the strongest one of all. Because she knew distance would ease her regret and eventually end her misery. The misery of breaking from a connection with a Sanguine.

Not just any Sanguine, but an Elder. Derick Upton, the owner of The Crooked Crown. The very establishment where she’d worked undercover as a Militia spy for over a year.

CHAPTER ONE

The explosion echoed through the hallway, breaking the midmorning quiet.

It brought everyone from their offices, straight toward the conference room at the end of the long hall. When the door opened, thick white smoke flooded the corridor and caused everyone within range to gasp and cough.

What was inside was worse. Piles of dingy, gray dust were on the floor just behind the long, rectangular conference table. The remains of Sanguines. Even more of the powdery substance covered the front of the table where six humans stood against the wall, unmoving.

I followed and like the others, had my gun drawn, complete with silver bullets. It was futile, though; there was nothing left to defend against. There was no living Sanguine in sight.

The Council office of the Militia in Bethesda, Maryland was suddenly all abuzz. With the mention of Sanguine dust, people from other offices in the five-story building ran downstairs to join in the commotion. Cell phones were snapping pictures, and just when one would be confiscated another five would emerge. As a senior Militia official, I was tempted to do the same thing. Truth be told, I would rather do that than my real job, investigating. Why would I bother with an investigation, anyway? Sanguines were dead. While the civilians were appalled by what they saw, everyone in our Militia office was ready to jump for joy. An investigation was more or less obligatory.

Cass. Ted Gilley, my friend and coworker, tapped me on the shoulder. No need for that now. He pointed to the gun still in my hand and, quickly, I dropped my arm to my side.

Ted was nearing forty years old, yet he hardly looked it. He stood right at my height of five- foot-seven and he kept in moderate shape. I could never understand why he didn’t gain weight with age as many men did, considering he hated gyms. Good metabolism, I suppose. Honestly, it wasn’t the gyms he hated so much as the sweating. Ted had to be immaculate at all times. Everything neatly pressed, not a single carrot-top colored hair out of place. He even kept a spare shirt in a Ziploc bag in his office, just in case the one he was wearing became stained for any reason. I doubt the man ever used a washing machine. I bet he even took his underwear to the dry cleaner, though I’d never dare ask.

What in the world happened? I asked him. Were you aware of a meeting scheduled for today?

Nope, not at all. Do you recognize anyone? he asked back to me, referring to the humans who were still frozen, despite the noise and panic of the situation.

Never seen them before. You think they got glazed or something?

Anything is possible. Go inside and see if you can snap any of them out of it.

Me? Why me?

Who’s better qualified?

He was right, no one was more qualified than I was. I’d been one of the lucky few who infiltrated a Sanguine establishment and lived to tell about it. My first and only assignment so far, I blended in and lived among Sanguines in both Edinburgh and London for fifteen months. No other Militia member accomplished such a lengthy assignment in at least ten years. That’s what earned me the respect of my colleagues as well as an early promotion to Level IV.

I entered the conference room while trying to ignore the horrible ashy smell of expired Sanguines. On the floor, sticking to the walls and drop ceiling above were splashes of purple. Silver nitrate. Well, that explained the explosion. A silver nitrate bomb, and by the look of the debris pattern, an expertly directed one. None of the humans left inside seemed to be physically injured despite being splattered in purple and gray. I would have to determine if the catatonia was due to the shock of watching their Sanguine’s demise or if they had indeed been glazed.

Breaking a glaze couldn’t be done by someone who was not Sanguine. With no intervention, the glazing effect typically wore off within an hour or so, but time wasn’t a luxury we could afford. With no Sanguine to help, there was one option I was willing to try.

Walking up to the first person I saw, a woman, I pinched her on the back of her arm. Hard.

The lady, thirty-ish looking and smartly dressed in a navy skirt, jacket and white blouse, cried out from pain, snapped to herself, then collapsed in my arms. Sobbing uncontrollably, she began to mutter disjointed words too random to make any sense.

Ma’am, I tried to ask, what’s your name?

Carrie. It was barely audible over the sobs.

Carrie, please, tell me what happened. Why were Sanguines here?

Nothing but a low, distressed wail came.

Carrie, please talk to me. We need to know…

Carrie looked up at me, but all I could see was a faraway look in her tear-filled eyes. This was disintegrating, fast. I shrugged at Ted, who then waved his hand at two coworkers. The men helped the distraught woman into the office next door.

A pinch? Really? Ted laughed at me. That’s all it takes?

Pain of any sort, I answered confidently without bothering to admit that I was just going on assumption. In my previous living arrangement among Sanguines, I saw someone snap out of a glaze after he fell out of a chair and broke his wrist. I assumed the pain was enough to shock him out of the catatonia. In this vocation, though, you’re not supposed to take uneducated guesses. Thank goodness it worked out. Anyway, what Ted didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Approaching the next human, a young man, I saw him staring down at the conference table. With this one, I opted for a different approach.

What’s your name?

Paul, he answered, his voice sounding a bit more coherent than Carrie.

Thought you were gonna wake him up, Ted interjected from the doorway.

I threw my hand up to keep him quiet. Shh…if he’s been glazed, it’s obvious whoever did it wanted them to forget what they saw, so waking him up won’t do any good. I turned away and continued, Paul, this whole situation must be very hard for you, can you tell me what…?

Paul, a very lanky guy with dark hair and a curious scar that ran from the side of his mouth to his chin, didn’t even turn around. He answered with a question. May I help you?

I looked at Paul’s face as his question didn’t match his expression. The poor fellow looked petrified.

Paul, do you understand what just happened?

I’m sorry, he is in a meeting right now, ma’am. If you would like to leave a message, I’ll make sure he contacts you later.

I was lost how to respond and glanced over at Ted. He shrugged, equally clueless. It was clear Paul was oblivious to his surroundings. I hoped the rest of them weren’t as bad.

You are the assistant for Mister…? I prompted.

Black, of course, Paul replied as if I should have known it immediately.

I wished I did.

My first thoughts had not been on the identity of the expired Sanguines, but now that a name emerged, curiosity got the better of me. As an investigator, not only did I have to find out who these Sanguines were, but why they were meeting at the Militia’s Council office. And where were our administrators, David Appleton, public relations manager, Jackson Studemeyer the recruitment director and Council Head Emery Reed?

Mr. Black? I asked Paul. Who is that?

Jarvis Black, Reigning Elder of the Texas States Territory.

I cringed, and behind me, I could hear Ted mutter, For the love…

An elder was among the expired Sanguines? That was going to be huge.

Paul, was Mr. Black the only Elder here today?

He shook his head, and on cue lazily pointed to the dust-filled chairs each Sanguine once occupied. A room full of Sanguine Elders. All expired. Executed by a silver nitrate bomb.

We need names, Ted whispered desperately.

I know, I said, then gestured toward the young, traumatized assistant. I wasn’t getting anything else from him. He began mumbling incoherently, his eyes full of tears. I gave a pinch to awaken him and moved on.

It was the same for the remaining human assistants. They were asked questions while under their glaze and their answers were all the same. Nothing the least bit helpful.

Eventually, they were all brought out of their glaze, comforted, and escorted to the office to rest while Ted and I were left scratching our heads as to what to do next.

I often hoped a day would come where I could celebrate a large elimination of Sanguines in the Bethesda area. I envisioned myself dancing around the big pile of dust with joy and glee, toasting with glasses of champagne. However, when that day came, it wasn’t what I thought it would be. Not because this was the largest mass elimination of Sanguines in modern history, mind you. No, that honor fell to the public relations fiasco in Portland Oregon with that bumbling dimwit that ran the Northwestern States Division, London Weinright. Over one hundred died in a two-day period, and it took months for David Appleton to clear up that public relations mess. Weinright thought he’d be a hero and that narcissism turned him into a homicidal idiot.

No, the person or persons behind this job did what Weinright couldn’t do. The Sanguines eliminated in our conference room weren’t just any Sanguines. They were Elders. Eleven of them, all leaders of their respective territories. David would have his work cut out for him on this one.

Ted Gilley and I sat with Constance Wilson, one of our newer associates, as she read off the list of the Elders that expired. It took nearly two hours, but once their human assistants recovered they were able to positively identify everyone in the room.

Evan, from the Northern States Territory, she began, Jarvis Black, of the Texas States territory, both Atlantic Territory Elders, Michael and Mitchell St. John and Phillip Trahan, Southeastern Territory. Those are the American Elders.

Ted looked at me. Familiar?

I shrugged halfheartedly. I’ve never met any of them. That was true, although I’d heard their names spoken of more than once. Especially the ever-flamboyant Mr. Phillip Trahan. He was highly thought of by his fellow Elders for his loyalty to friends, diplomacy with strangers and strict adherence to rules. Personally, though, I’d heard the portly Sanguine being called a walking, talking Mardi Gras parade float. And it was meant as a compliment.

Constance looked a bit sickly all of a sudden, her face turning a sickly gray color. The Canadian Elders, Seth, she sniffled into a tissue before continuing to read, Seth Myrick from Victoria and Hugh Singletary of Quebec. The younger sister of our division office receptionist, Kristine Teague, this turnaround in Constance’s personality was odd, to say the least. She seemed to be affected by the Sanguines’ executions. If true, she was the only one.

Can you continue? I asked her.

Yes, I'll be okay, she answered, then started again with, Let’s see. Uh, finally there were the European Elders, Amon of Scandinavia, and … again, her voice cracked, then stopped, unable to go on.

I know this one, I said to Ted regarding Amon. He was one of the oldest in existence, over nine hundred years old at last count.

You met him?

Yes, on assignment in London, I answered quickly. He was very paranoid about privacy, so I wasn’t around him much. He was heavily guarded. Why in the world would he be here and with so little protection? That’s just…

Without warning, Constance began to cry.

It was like her emotions appeared bright as day on a giant billboard. She was upset about the Sanguines! The last time I saw Constance show so much emotion was the day her divorce became final. I leaped from the chair and took her shoulders, comfortingly. Did you know Amon too? Surely not. To my knowledge, Amon had never set foot on American soil. Until today, anyway.

Sniffling again, she swiped at her eyes and squeaked out an apology. No, nothing like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Today has just been very stressful…and sad.

Are you nuts? Ted jumped in. "This is a banner day for the Militia. Not just Sanguines, but Elders are dead. Their whole organization will fall apart, the momentum for comprehensive reform has been set back at least thirty or forty years."

Ted, these were beings who died on our property. Why are you so damned heartless? Constance spat back.

"Because they aren’t beings, Connie. And they didn’t die…they were already dead!"

Don’t be such a prick, Gilley! Fierce defensiveness. What in the world was she hiding?

What’s gotten into you, Connie? I asked, keeping my voice somewhere between compassion and official. You’ve never talked like this before.

The twenty-eight-year-old brunette squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the last couple of tears from the rims of her eyes. They fell and landed on the sleeve of her blouse. Then, as abruptly as she lost her composure, she regained it. Sorry, Cass. I suppose it was the shock of the situation that got to me.

Did you know any of these Elders? I mean on a more personal level? I asked a second time, firmer than the first.

Of course not! That’s just crazy. Now, indignation. Too much, too fast.

I apologize for asking such a thing. Look, it’s been a rough couple of hours so far. You’re tired, we all are. There’s no need to go over this right now. We’ll make copies of the report and go over them later. Go sit in the breakroom, get some coffee and take it easy for a while.

Constance quietly stood as Ted and I watched, glancing at one another in curiosity. Constance had no love loss for Sanguines, as we all did. This new attitude was beyond baffling, yet there was nothing I could exactly put a finger on. She was just…sad. Just before she closed the door to leave, I spotted fresh tears trickling down her cheeks as she clutched the file folder against her chest. Yes, there is a story to tell.

What do you think of that? I asked Ted on the way back to my office, copies in hand.

It’s obvious she did know one of them, maybe even more.

Obviously. She couldn’t hide it. I slowly shook my head. I can’t see her organizing this though. She would be acting far less upset.

Plus, she doesn’t have that much stroke to authorize it. Certainly, not the brains.

Pulling out the keys to my office door, I asked, Well, who does have that kind of stroke besides the administration?

You do, Ted answered bluntly.

The key sat in the knob, unturned. I glared his way and saw by his expression that he was deadly serious.

I didn’t arrange this, Ted.

For heaven’s sake, I know that. I’m just saying that something this monumental had to be at least a Level II, don’t you think?

Levels of Security clearance among the Militia are not based on years served, but achievement and go on a scale from I to V with Level I being new recruits and Level V being the Administration—Emery Reed, Jackson Studemeyer, and David Appleton. After my successful infiltration of the Sanguine establishment in Edinburgh, Scotland, I was awarded Level IV. Ted was a Level III.

There were a couple of good perks to being at Levels IV and V. One was taking part in a special pinning ceremony and dinner. You could choose who you wanted to pin you, then you had your picture taken, which would later be hung on the wall of the reception area. The other was greater access to top level security files. You could file your own reports without taking them to the Five’s (Kristine’s word for the Administration) for editing or review. But, by far the most popular perk of the higher levels was getting to choose which Division you wanted to work. Underlings, those who work part time on a volunteer basis, are assigned to the Division closest to where they are currently attending high school, college or have a part time job. The newer full time associates, Levels I, II, and III, are assigned to the Division closest to where they were born or an area in which they’ve lived for at least ten years. There is no transferring unless you’re a troublemaker or if you prove medical or family hardship. If you’re reprimanded, rest assured, the next destination will not be a pleasant one.

As an underling and new associate, I was assigned to the old Head office in Washington D.C. because it was the closest to Bethesda, where I lived my whole life. When the new Bethesda office was being relocated, I was still in Europe. When I returned, I had a new office waiting for me, complete with my name on the door. While I could have had the pick of any location in the United States, the Head office was where I wanted to stay. It’s where I belonged. Because, like my grandfather, Terrance Loudermilk, and Great Uncle Thomas Loudermilk before me, I wanted to work my way to the top. Ask anyone in any division—the Loudermilk brothers were the best.

Ted and I entered my office, and he settled down on the couch while I took a seat behind the desk. I removed the papers from the folder Constance gave me and started reading over them.

Jarvis Black, the St. John Brothers, Trahan and Evan the Viking Elder were the only Americans, I hummed thoughtfully.

Viking? How could he be Viking and be American? Ted asked. I’m sure he was being sarcastic, as was his nature.

Because before the 1400’s, we were all someone else before we became Americans. Except Native Americans, of course, I answered, rolling my eyes.

Ted let out a quick laugh. "I’ll never get over the one name thing. I thought Vikings were myths. Like Odin, or maybe he’s really Beowulf."

I continued, ignoring this time, Amon of the Scandinavian Territory, he wasn’t the only one from the European area either. Along with him was…

I froze, feeling all the warmth leave my cheeks. On that white piece of paper were the words that made my throat tighten with genuine dread. Oh no, no… No, surely this wasn’t correct.

Cass, what’s wrong? Ted sat forward on the couch. I could hear the concern in his voice, but it was a million miles away.

I, uh…

Speak up. You’re starting to get as emotional as Constance.

He expected me to speak? I could barely think! I managed the mental strength to shove the paper toward Ted. When his mind was occupied, I grabbed a tissue from my desk and pressed it against my eyes.

Diese Michelli, Joseph McElvoy, and Derick... Jesus. Derick Upton? Wasn’t he the guy who…?

I just nodded, my face partially hidden behind the tissue.

Did you know the others?

Did I ever. Diese, Elder of the Italian/Sicilian Territory and Joseph, Elder for the Dublin Territory in Ireland, were both were very close friends of Derick Upton’s.

I choked out, I met all the European Elders at one time or another when they gathered for the Worldwide Coalition of Elders’ meetings in London.

Yeah, that new organization he helped form while you were there.

A tidal wave of memories came back to me, emotions that I forced into suppression the second I landed in Washington D.C. over two years ago. But, the memories weren’t for the Elders I remembered so fondly, they were for Derick. All for Derick.

The Elder of the Southern Scottish Territory and owner of The Crooked Crown was an old Sanguine with quite an illustrious history with many stories that he told those willing to listen. He was also admired and known by many for his straightforward approach to human relations. As one who fought his way through wars, survived plagues and stood alongside kings, he could bring peace to almost any conflict, but could hardly be considered passive. As a firm believer in full disclosure, he always said the best policy was transparency. Tell humans the truth and they will no longer be fearful. Fear drives anger and anger drives violence. It was because of this philosophy that his fellow Brothers elected him to be Director of Human/Sanguine Relations for the Worldwide Coalition of Elders at their inaugural meeting in London.

Beyond his diplomatic traits, Derick Upton had a commanding presence that went far beyond just your average, dark-haired Sanguine. He was attractive, for sure. Everyone could see that. His face showed aristocratic wear, though he would never admit to how old he actually was, nor the age in which he was created. In fact, it was the way he moved, carried himself with that grandeur of unabashed confidence that made heads turn when he entered a room. Each one who dared to stare was met with a self-assured smirk and gentlemanly nod. He spoke confidently