He should have got rid of those sparkly upstarts years ago. No one was quite certain when the vampire strain had deviated to create those abominations, but there had been a number of strange mutations over the years and he had never bothered to track all of them.
It wasn't that he minded leading young girls astray, but they should know their place. One of these days, he'd see about getting rid of them. Once he got those annoying Townsend children off his back.
One of these days.
Lucard had never had much use for Spike. The other vampire tried too hard to play the bad boy role, but Lucard knew too much about his past to believe the facade.
It wasn't until the other vampire tangled with the Slayer than Lucard developed a grudging respect for him, muted by Spike's inability to kill the girl in question, despite being perfectly positioned for the job.
However, subsequent events would prove that his initial assessment of the other vampire's abilities had been well founded, as the Slayer turned Spike into a love-sick lap dog, catering to her every whim.
Some vampires had no self-respect.
He'd met Damon in Italy, shortly after some unpleasantness caused him to leave his home town. Lucard sympathized with the other man's plight. He too had had to leave his home under a shadow more than once.
They spent their days in sleep and their nights pursuing sybaritic pleasures, but soon Lucard tired of the boy, for boy he was by vampire standards, not yet fifty and unexperienced in the ways of their kind.
They parted surprisingly pleasantly, without resentment, a rare occurrence in Lucard's experience.
Yet he had neither the desire nor the interest to seek the boy out again.
He'd always had a soft spot for musicians and Adam was among the best he'd ever heard in his long life. For Adam he made an exception to his distaste for the sparkly offshoot of the vampire clans. For Adam, he'd tamped down his dislike of fame and everything that went with it. For Adam he'd considered breaking all of his most tightly held rules.
For Adam, he'd watched an American reality show, cheering on his lover, only to be dumped on a whim when Adam found another love.
But he could not bring himself to destroy that angelic voice, even in the name of revenge.
How many times had they faced each other, across the boardroom or the bedroom? Josef was one of the few that Lucard considered an equal in the art of business.
It was the game they played. Two civilised men in a complex game of chess, played in Tokyo or Milan or Bangkok or San Francisco. They'd meet and cross swords or perhaps bank books and end the night tangled in silken sheets, then spend an idyllic weekend or week or month, before the world called them back again and they parted- not friends, not lovers, but something more and something less.