"I mean from all corners of this nonsense. Elves. Seelie. I'm not without eyes in far corners of the world." Her grimace flashed teeth, though, no less vexed for the elaboration. She watched the movements of his hands with vague but palpable fascination, like a cat briefly distracted with string before determining that it wasn't worth her time to chase.

"Elves and vampir Kin are the longest-lived folk of the drabwurld. But we are both candles burnt to the last, dying out with the world. Their children are less and less, and those we attempt to turn remain dead more and more. As magic dies, so do we. Better if our last years are spent better than worrying at each others' throats; I take no pride or pleasure in killing what's already dead." And then, after a significant pause, "Only to see to my own. I want to live. I want my cubs to live beyond me. And that's large enough a goal for these harried nights. And as you say, genocidists, killers of kin, are thick in the night. They hunt us by day, and slay us with fire. Haven't we wept enough over ashes?"

Her grin was bright and broad and sharp as a fox's. "I'll get you what you need and more, cub, never you mind. You know how to be in touch?"