They sat across from each other at the little cottage table with heads low as they spoke softly. Three tealight candles flickered in the blue glass bowl, casting odd shadows on the two women's faces. They were mirrored reflections of each other, though one had golden hair and the other's hair was gray. But the hair was the only give away to their ages. In front of the blond was a large book opened to the page she was reading.
"It says here that we should find the Sire and..." She trailed off, reading to herself.
"And...?" The gray haired woman cocked an eyebrow.
The younger woman looked up. "Grandma, it says we have to kill him."
The older lady blinked. "But he's already dead."
"I know. It's just that he was supposed to be killed in a certain way and since we can't kill him again, we're stuck." She pursed her lips together.
"No!" The grandmother shouted, slamming a fist on the table. The bowl of candles shook but stayed lit. "There has to be another way."
"There is... ONE other way." The blond sighed and gently closed the book.
After a moment, the older woman snorted and asked, "well? What can we do?"
The younger woman leaned her chin into her cupped hands, placing her elbows firmly on the table. Her emerald eyes stared at her grandmother for several minutes unblinking. "We have to find HIS sire and seduce HIM. Then we both have to... take advantage of him."
"You mean we have to fuck the head werewolf?"
Covering her face, the younger woman nodded and spoke in a muffled voice. "Yes, grandmother. That's exactly what I mean."
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