MV: Fire Omens

Steve froze, staring at at the feather in his hands. "Where did you get that?" he asked, carefully. 

Andy yawned. "Not sure. I was asleep. Dreamed about a giant, burning bird, though. Is it yours?'

Steve shook his head slowly. "Nope. I think it's yours. It's... Veronica? Would you come take a look at this before I say something completely idiotic?"

She came around the van, and looked at Andy and the stray flame-colored feather. "Is that a fucking phoenix feather?" she asked. 

"I think so," said Steve. "Thank God. I was afraid it was just me."

"The fuck am I doing with a phoenix feather?" asked Andy. He figured it had probably fallen out of somewhere and his sleeping mind had turned that into the dream with the bird, but Steve was talking like it had actually fallen out of his dream. 

"...I don't know," Steve admitted, "but let's get you something to keep it in. I can't begin to imagine how you got the attention of something like that -- that shit's for shamans and witches and the like -- but it might be..." He fell silent.

Finally, Veronica filled in. "It might be very important," she said. "The kind of thing your maker might be hunting you for, if they knew you could acquire it."

"How would they know that?" asked Andy, suddenly panicked. It was one thing to have a powerful wight looking for him; it was something else again if his maker could somehow tell the future.  

"Know what?" asked a third voice, and Andy launched himself out of the van with twisting movement that landed him right between Steve and Veronica.  

"Jesus, Rodney," said Veronica. "Good way to get yourself shot." 

The new arrival was a tall man, broad-shouldered but otherwise slender, wearing black jeans, engineer boots, and a motorcycle jacket. He held a silver motorcycle helmet in his left hand, and his hair was bleached blond. At first glance, he could have passed for human.

"How'd you get up here so fast?" asked Steve, putting his pistol back in its holster. 

The vampire shrugged. "With an expensive motorcycle and a reckless disregard for speed limits. And there's nothing funnier than sneaking up on werewolves when they're not paying attention."

"You've clearly never watched British comedy." Andy spoke without thinking, then realized he was standing there with his claws out and put them away. 

"Ah," said Rodney, turning his attention to Andy. "You must be our newborn wight."

"Must I?" asked Andy. 

Rodney's eyes widened suddenly. "Is that a phoenix feather?" he asked. "Oh, my. Enterprising, defiant, and favored by the Great Spirits. I like you already."

"Yeah, well, just wait 'til you get a chance to know me," Andy told him. He didn't trust Rodney's words, and while he might eventually come to respect the vampire he was feeling a little raw about anybody messing with the people who'd been taking care of him since he'd woken up dead -- even if they were all supposed to be on the same side. 

"Do I even need to tell you how much I prefer What We Do In The Shadows?" Rodney asked. 

Andy rolled his eyes. "Of course you do." He's not a vampire, he's a fucking cliché. "I'm sure we'll get along famously."

Rodney evidently could read between the lines. He sighed, and said, "Well, then. I'll retire into the house and wait for my shift to start. I suppose it's too much to hope that my help might be properly appreciated."