Asa let himself drift into auto-pilot, smiling until his jaw was stiff, shaking hands, making meaningless small talk. He watched Nika direct the girls in red velvet and white fur. They were a mixture from all of their clubs, and their costumes much more modest than the Ember event, but were still snug enough and showed enough calf to make eyes wander.

Wrapping paper littered the hotel's ballroom, and the screams of the children was deafening: by any measure, the charity event for the foster care facilities throughout the city was a resounding success.

On the surface, they all smiled and nodded, the politicians and tycoons who's wives loved the wee ones noted the Sponsored By list and gave him the wink and nudge to let him know they would protect and foster his interests. That would probably include visiting his little red and white vixens, but that was the game.

That was the game.

Today.

Asa saw what they didn't see.

He saw hundreds of children dazzled by the gifts and glamor, the confections, the excess. He saw the older ones sneak furtive glances; the boys, at the flashes of skin, the girls, at where it all came from.

His glossy flyers littered the ground also. Some made into paper planes, some discarded: it didn't matter. Small hands picked them up. Club names were read. Associations were made. Dreams and desires were sown.

In a blink of his eyes, they would fill his clubs.

Behind the smile, he unconsciously ran his tongue over his fangs.