Chapter 41 – Of Life and Death
October 5, 2004 = Tuesday
~Eliza Flores~
Waking the next night, I grabbed my robe and headed upstairs to the shower. I knew my ghouls were home by Avril Lavigne playing in the great room, though I didn't see anyone. The shower itself felt good, and when I went down to my room, Heather had some clothes laid out for me, with the new leather duster displayed on a mannequin.
I examined the duster, the black leather with its red velvet lining neatly hiding the scabbard for my katana. I went to my wardrobe and pulled the katana out. Turning back to the duster, I slipped it home in it's leather sheath. Checking the coat again, I was pleasantly shocked to see the duster hiding the blade without a single line to mark its presence.
Nodding my head, I began to get dressed, but instead of donning the slacks that were laid out for me, went to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of black leather pants my ghouls had bought and put those on instead, as it went with my biker chick image better. Next, I slipped into my boots and a red spandex shirt, previously purchased by my ghouls on a shopping trip and run the belt around my waist with the Glock in its holster at my back. Heather made short work of my makeup, keeping it light so it wouldn't get messed up while I rode with the wind in my face.
Pulling the leather coat off the mannequin, I slipped it on, finding it a bit heavier than my last duster, and stiffer. I then took the katana I had and slipped it home into the built in leather sheath at my back, and put on my shades. Considering myself dressed, I left my private room, and went back upstairs, following the sound of Hoobastank up the stairs.
Entering the Great Room, I found we had a guest, a beautiful brown haired woman in a wine colored dress that pooled at her feet to tell me it had a full length skirt, like the dress I had acquired from Jezebel Locke. She rose as I came in, prompting my ghouls to rise before she bowed her head to me. I took in her attire, the deep plunge of her neckline to her navel showcasing her assets behind a sheer panel with cutaway panels under her arms. It showcased her beauty and status as a human, so I had to wonder who she was and why she was here.
"Mademoiselle Flores," she said in highly accented French, leading me to believe she was a native speaker. "My lady, Michelle Riviere, would like to meet with you at the earliest opportunity."
"Ah, that would make you Remy," I said, remembering what Damsel had told me of Michelle's ghoul.
"Oui," she said simply, nodding her head. "I have a car waiting for you outside to take you to my lady's estate. I will also return you to your haven or anywhere you wish to go when your meeting is done."
I stood there, pondering my options. I needed to speak to Michelle, get the track on the best way to bring down Lacroix, though I was starting to learn how his operation worked. I had my fears that he would turn on me if he ever got the opportunity, especially after having so openly defied him. He had to be plotting my downfall, even though he currently had me under boon.
With that thought in mind, another thought came to me. I may not be the elder in years, but I was certainly starting to see myself as the most powerful single kindred in the city. I wouldn't go so far to say I had mastered every ability, yet, but I was already making huge strides in abilities my clan didn't have. My celerity was fast enough for me to remain untouched in a fight, and even a century, or centuries as it was hard to tell, old Tremere couldn't match my dominate ability.
So it was that I nodded my head and accepted her offer. I could use Michelle's help in navigating the political minefield that was bound to be the cities primogen council and prince, especially if I was to be named a primogen for the Lasombra.
Remy flashed me a smile, bowing in front of me before moving forward and gesturing for me to follow. "My car awaits us outside," she said, stepping past me towards the door.
Turning back to my ghouls, I gave them a smile. "I'll be back for my motorcycle and makeup when I'm done," I told them, and then turned and followed Remy outside.
Remy stood beside a pearl gray Maybach, a chauffeur driven car used by the rich and elite as a substitute for a limo, it's large rear door open for me to enter. I slipped inside, noting the immaculate cream colored leather as I settled in and Remy shut the door for me. It seemed she was acting the part of chauffeur tonight as well as courier, and was likely Michelle's only ghoul. That left me wondering who was doing Michelle's makeup, and what shape the Toreador primogen would be in when we got there.
Remy herself was a doll, her hair immaculate hair and dress flawless even if she was vastly overdressed as a chauffeur. I watched as Remy slid under the steering wheel on the driver side, taking a moment to arrange her dress before shutting the door. The motor was a faint purr as it started, and eased into motion with a gentleness born of years of practice.
I watched the ghoul, noting her lack of jewelry as we drove. I didn't want to go and play around with all the controls to look like a complete novice, which Remy was bound to report. I wanted to portray that I was somewhat competent, so I sat back and enjoyed the ride while I fingered the upholstery. Remy was a good driver, never jerking the car once even when we pulled into a large home in Beverly Hills and right up to the front door.
Remy then exited the car, coming around and opening my door for me with quick steps. Stepping out, I took in the two story home and it's over the top elegance. It was obvious Michelle took pride in her place, as every part of it was carefully tended as if it were a work of art. Every shrub was sculpted, with nary a leaf out of place, and even the fountain featured a light show along with its shooting rods of water into the top basin, causing water to cascade into each subsequent basin until it returned to the pool at the bottom.
Remy shuffled past me, one hand lifting her skirt while she hurried to open the door, not releasing the skirt until she stood with the door open. I breezed past her, noting Michelle's home contained a myriad of paintings, sculptures and posters for movies. Each piece was in pristine condition, with a small plaque below it denoting a name, it's artist, or in the cases of the movie posters, how much it had grossed in theaters.
I had to believe it was all tied to Michelle somehow, but stepping into what I thought might be the Great room turned out to be a hall of even rarer art, much of it hundreds of years old going by the dedication tags. At the end of the hallway was a set of heavy wooden doors, which Remy opened. Inside was Michelle Riviere, standing in front a painting as if she were appraising it.
I only briefly wondered if she were enraptured by the painting before she stepped back and turned to me. She was dressed in a purple sequined dress with only one strap that fitted every curve of her body, and the way it shown in the soft candlelight made me wonder what the sequins were made of. Michelle ghosted forward, her dress somehow not seeming to move even as she got closer.
"Welcome to my home, Mademoiselle Flores," she said in a thick French accent while smiling to show pearly white teeth.
"It's a pleasure," I told her, embracing the elder Toreador as she ghosted into my arms. She held me for a moment, before releasing me and stepping back.
"Would you care for a drink?" she asked me. Reminded of my hunger, it took a force of will to not rip into Michelle's throat then and there. Instead I nodded, and Michelle turned to Remy and spoke, "Apportez-moi un gros pichet de sang et un des gobblets en cristal, Remy. Je vais nourrir Mlle Flores de moi-meme."
"Oui, madame," she said, then turned and walked away leaving me to wonder what had been said. I knew my name had been mentioned, but it could only be about bringing me a glass as well. It cold also be about poisoning me, so I decided to play it safe with whatever she brought me.
"Remy will return in a moment," she told me. "She will bring us some blood to drink."
"I guess the keeping of kine around for drinking really has faded with time," I told her, thinking back to when we first met at the council meeting.
"Oui," she said, nodding her head slightly. "Well-to-do kindred used to have large estates, often belonging to a man they ghouled as a front for their activities, where they would be kept. These ghouls would use their status to imprison criminals, the insane, or vagrants that they would keep for kindred to feed from."
"What about the masquerade?" I asked her, wondering how they kept the prisoners from speaking about what had happened.
"The prisoners would never be freed," she told me. "Often, they would be put to death in public executions for their crimes if they tried to tell of the kindred feeding from them."
"What happened to the ghouls?" I asked her, wondering how they kept the secret of their kindred benefactor and passed on the land and title.
"Many would be...retired," she said, pausing to choose that last word with a frown. "The masquerade had to be maintained. Their children were raised to be successors, and often the lands and titles would pass to them at their father's death, or when they convinced their master to allow them to secede their father early."
"It really was the dark ages, huh?" I asked her and she nodded A question hit me, and I decided to ask it while I could. "Do ghouls actually have the ability to have children? Or do you have to breed them before they get blood?"
"They can get pregnant as easily as any kine," she said, and I wondered what that would be like for the kid. "Remy had a daughter once, before I was forced to flee my home in Paris. I had used Remy as bait for an English artist I wished to sire, and she became pregnant."
"What happened to the child?" I asked her, and Michelle frowned.
"She was supposed to be under the care of my childe," she said with a sigh, "I dared not leave with more than Remy as we trekked across the countryside, for fear the German Wehrmacht would find us even at night. She was supposed to travel with him as his bride by bicycle, but he left her in the village of Oradour-sur-Glane while he fled to Spain on foot after being cornered by the German military."
"What happened?" I asked, the name not meaning anything to me.
"The Germans blocked off the entire town," she told me, and I suddenly wished I hadn't asked. "They locked the women in the church and burned it down around them. Only one woman survived, a Marguerite Rouffanche. I met her some years later, and asked of Remy's daughter, only to find out that she was among the dead."
"What happened to your childe?" I asked her, and she shook her head.
"The fool continues to be of some use to me, and I tolerate his presence though Remy would rather torture him to his final death," she told me. "Of late, though, I find fewer reasons to stay her hand."
"That has to be rough for her," I said, feeling sorry for the elder ghoul.
"She used to beg me to allow her to finish Felix," she said, her voice sad. "One day, I will allow her to have her revenge."
"Felix?" I said, the name sounding familiar. "Felix Barker? Velvet Velour's sire?"
"Oui," she said, sounding somewhat surprised. "You know of him?"
"Vaguely," I said, thinking I had just about surmised everything I knew of the slimy bastard. "I know he likes beautiful women, but would rather ruin their lives by turning them against their will and abandoning them later."
"That is his style," she told me, as Remy returned with the tray. I could smell the blood coming down the hall, but I only saw one cup with the pitcher of blood she had.
"Only one?" I asked her and she nodded as Remy filled it and handed it Michelle, who drank it eagerly. Remy then turned and left us, leaving the blood behind.
"You will be fed," she said, as she refilled the crystal cup from the pitcher. I wondered briefly if it were some kind of 'the host drinks first to prove its not poisoned' thing when Michelle drank again. "I must fill myself for what is to come."
"And what is to come?" I asked her, as she sat the goblet down.
"You are Methuselah, are you not?" Michelle asked, and I stood there, wondering how she knew my secret, then decided VV had told her. "You may quench your thirst from me."
"You're trusting," I said blandly, wondering why Eloise would hate the prospect so and Michelle offered it freely.
"I was hoping it would create trust between us," she said, moving her hair from her neck as if she were offering it to me. It was hard to think with my beast practically screaming in my ear, but I held back. "You may drink as deep from me as you wish, that is why I had Remy bring me so much blood to drink."
"Alright," I said, moving forward, eying the bare skin of her neck. I took the exquisitely dressed woman in my arms, cradling her as I nuzzled under her ear. Michelle leaned her head out of the way, giving me better access as I slid my fangs deep into Michelle's skin.
Michelle moaned, vibrating my fangs as I lapped at her blood. I drank her deep, satisfying my hunger with her blood and sending a pleasurable feeling throughout my body. When I finally felt her blood thin, I pulled my fangs from her neck and stepped back, leaving Michelle looking somewhat spooked as she began to vibrate.
Michelle turned and walked to the serving tray, her steps lacking the grace she had formally showed. She gripped the glass with her hand, raised the pitcher, and spilled some of the blood as she tried to pour herself a drink. With a snarl, she through the glass against a wall then used both hands to raise the pitcher to her lips, chugging it down with reckless abandon. When she set it down after draining the pitcher, she seemed to visibly relax.
"I'm sorry if I took too much," I told her, as she turned to face me again.
"It is something I accounted for," she told me, a faint smile appearing on her face. "I trust I was to your tastes?"
"It's never bad," I told her, making a small joke.
"Now that we are both sated," she said, taking a seat in an overstuffed straight-back armchair, "We can move on to more important matters."
"The removal of Lacroix?" I said, taking a seat on the sofa. "How would that work?"
"The primogen council can remove him," she told me, crossing her legs and settling herself in. "We would need a majority vote to achieve it, and as such, that is currently unlikely. Strauss has issues with Lacroix, but is not likely to oppose him without good reason. Mueller, Scott and Therese are so loyal to Lacroix it would make a Democrat sick, and Dusty and Gary would want something to replace Lacroix. That is four to our three."
"Therese Voerman replaced Grout?" I asked her, wanting to clarify that information.
"We are going to ask her at our next meeting," she told me. "We need a Malkavian primogen, and she is one of the few who is not a liability. I trust she'll accept as she seems so wont to get in the prince's good graces."
"So, Lacroix gets another puppet on the council, making it that much harder to overthrow him," I said, piecing it together.
"All we need is to get you your allotted five clan members, and we can at least add your voice to the council," she said, trying to offer me hope.
"I'm hoping the sarcophagus is where I think it is," I told her, making her raise her eyebrows at that news. "If it is, and I can confirm it's there, I'll have the right to make a childe this weekend."
"That would be one," she said, smiling at the good news. "How can we gain the four others?"
"I would have to feel Lacroix out, but I'm hoping that if I seem to accept the Camarilla and do his dirty work, I might be able to earn the right for the other four like I'm doing now,"
"That might work," she said, leaning back in her chair. "So, getting one up on Lacroix is going to be your plan. What's the plan for when we do get you on the council? Strauss is unlikely to go against Lacroix without reason, and we'll need him for the swing vote."
"Strauss is about to be removed from Los Angeles," I told her, getting a gasp of surprise from her. "He's violated his clan's rules, and is about to be recalled."
"That...that does change things," she said. "How sure are you of his recall?"
"Fairly sure," I told her, thinking of Eloise's advice on the inner workings of the Tremere. "He's done something that his clan doesn't tolerate; offer to teach an outsider the secrets of blood magic."
"Interesting," she said, staring into my eyes. "I assume you were smart enough to get something for terminating Strauss's position as primogen?"
"A willing blood doll in his replacement," I said, getting a smile from Michelle. "Eloise doesn't seem to have the knack for politics, yet, but I have to figure she'll be somewhat easier to get along with than Strauss, especially if it seems she can get out from being my blood doll."
"You are going to do well in this life," Michelle breathed as she nodded her head approvingly.
"So what about Gary and Dusty?" I asked her and she shook her head.
"The sewer rat is easy to bribe with gossip," she said, shivering at the mention of Gary as if he were that loathsome, and probably was to a Toreador. "Dusty only wants what most hunters want; a proper hunt."
"How very 'dangerous game' of him," I muttered, thinking of the old short story where a hunter hunted humans for sport. "I assume he prefers to hunt kindred?"
"Ghouls, actually," she said. "There's no trophy if you kill a kindred."
"Hmm," I said, having a wicked thought. "What if we offered the ghoul after his vote? Give me a chance to train her in using her powers?"
"You would sacrifice a ghoul to get rid of Lacroix?" she asked, frowning at me.
"I wouldn't sacrifice much if the ghoul in question is actually a hunter," I told her.
"Where would you find a hunter to ghoul, though?" she asked me, and I chuckled. "Or would you send a hunter to kill him?
"I found her in Chinatown," I told Michelle, deepening her frown before she began to smirk. "She's already ghouled, but I'm giving her a chance to break the bond and walk away after I ghouled her to save her life."
"It is a difficult thing to walk away from," Michelle agreed. "I have yet to see a human who can resist the power of our blood without some sort of help."
"Then I shall be preparing myself for her to show back up tomorrow night," I said and Michelle nodded.
"If your ghoul is able to destroy Dusty, we might be ridding ourselves of the Gangrel vote on the council," she said, and I quirked my head to the side in thought.
"What if we got Jean Baker to replace him?" I said, and Michelle gave me a questioning look. "She's a Gangrel deputy for the sheriff. Though she's been around as a kindred for fifty years, she seems to at least be somewhat social."
"I have only met Miss Baker a few times, and always in an official capacity," she told me. "Do you think she could be somewhat controlled?"
"I'd trust her to be compassionate and care for the people of the city," I told her, getting a hmm in response as she thought about it. "Could she be bought? Hard to say. She does live a provincial life when she is used to more."
"In what way?" Michelle asked me, and I knew I was risking revealing Jean's real identity.
"She used to be a rich woman when she was alive," I said, not really lying as she had been rich. "She lost everything when she was turned, having to go underground to protect the masquerade. I can only assume she lives in some dive, driving a rusty old pickup and working to make ends meet like any blue collar person at a nine to five job. So maybe she'll enjoy it if we 'elevate' her life a bit."
"Hmm," Michelle said, inclining her head in thought. "I didn't come to California until the late 80's, so I doubt I'd know her while she was alive. But, in undeath, she might be worth knowing now, and you say this as if you know her. Do you?"
"I'm friendly with her," I told Michelle, again not really lying. "So, if my ghoul can kill Dusty, we can replace him with Jean Baker, adding another vote to ours in future ordeals. That gives us control of the primogen council. What do we do with it? I know you've been working to overthrow Lacroix, but what's the endgame?"
"Freedom from oppression has always been my endgame," she told me. "As with the trial of Jose Garcia, many kindred have fallen victim to the sword of Lacroix's sheriff, almost all had some sort of political difference with Lacroix. Whom rules the city is of little concern, but I will not lie when I say I wish it could be me."
"Wish it could be you?" I said, parroting her words back to her. "You think someone else has a shot of overtaking the crown of the city?"
"Isaac Abrams has his eye on a formal barony for the entire city," Michelle said, reinforcing an idea that Isaac might try to take complete control if he could. "Nines Rodriguez would also love to take full control of the city for his Anarchs, removing all figures of authority for the city and allowing the city to fall into chaos. Such was the way it was before Lacroix and the other Ventrue showed up and instituted the Camarilla."
"I assume Therese Voerman would also like to claim the throne for herself," I added, making Michelle nod in approval. "I don't see many kindred rallying behind her, so she can keep dreaming."
"And what of you?" she asked, stunning me. "Do you have any designs to rule the city? There are few who might stand against you with the power of your blood, and your abilities politically enable you to rally the city behind you."
I laughed, my body wracked with laughter as her words hit me. Me? In charge of the city? Was she nuts?
"I see you find the humor in my remark," she said, admonishing me as I laughed.
"I'm the last one who has any plans on the city," I told her, stifling my laughter as best I could. "I just want to be left alone, for the most part."
"So you'd pass on ruling the city to be left in peace?" she asked, and I nodded. "Hmm, that would leave me with the greatest voice in the city, with the most support. Since I know you are my greatest rival, it behooves me to keep you as my greatest friend, meaning I need to keep you happy. If I am able to wrangle the title of prince out of the council, I'd be willing to give you great leeway in your personal dealings, as long as you keep the masquerade."
"I have no problem keeping the masquerade," I told her, getting a smirk from her. "You do know, my own children will be more powerful than you, given time."
"Yes," she said simply, meeting my eye. "But that is in say, a hundred years, and you have to choose your childer carefully or they will not survive to then."
"True," I said, knowing she was right. "But they will have me guiding them, protecting and nurturing their skills until they can stand on their own."
"Which in turn makes you even more powerful," she added, flooring me. I didn't realize just how much Lucian and I upset the apple cart. "The worst that could ever happen to you is if Lacroix manages to call a blood hunt on you, turning the entire city against you. So don't upset Lacroix if you don't have to."
"I plan not to," I told her in all sincerity. "But I'll leave piles of ash in my wake if he tries."
"Of that, I am certain," Michelle told me, rising to her feet. "Such are the policies of those that survive. What is the saying? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer? The problem is telling the two apart."
"In that case," I said, rising from the couch I was seated on, "Expect me back sometime," I said, then turned my gaze to the shadow at my feet and stepped back to the Great Room in my mansion, where the group 'N Sync sang 'Bye Bye Bye' on the radio.
'How fitting,' I thought as I moved down the hallway to the garage. I didn't see or hear my ghouls, so I went out to my Ninja, and fired it up, heading downtown to Confession.
Traffic was light on my way downtown, allowing me to keep my Ninja near eighty as I rolled along. Finding Confession was easy, the remodeled church having only a few cars parked outside of it. Even on a Tuesday I expected it to be a little more crowded than the measly handful I saw.
'Must be the music,' I decided, hearing the Disco coming from inside. It was only when I heard opened the door and could get a better earful of the mix that I recognized Disco Duck. The Toreadors must have really prohibited Venus from getting anything better that she was forced to play such secondhand music.
Inside, there weren't but maybe six people in the entire place, two of those behind the bar with one in a neck brace. The injured barman's accomplice was a short, slender woman with highly defined cheekbones in a vest top that had a rather large boob window for the woman's clearly enhanced breasts. She gave me a smile as I came in, and I headed for her, hoping she was Venus as I continued to check her out from behind my sunglasses. I could see the black satin hot pants she wore over dark fishnet stockings, as I sat behind to the bar, giving her a smile of my own.
"Looking for Venus Dare," I told her, and I saw fear flash behind her eyes. "Fat Larry sent me to play messenger."
"Oh," she said, drawing the word as her smile became real and deepened on her face. "So you're the Cleopatra Jones he was going to send over?" she said in somewhat softened British accent as she leaned in closer as the songs changed to one with a higher pitch, making hearing difficult. "I've been waiting for someone like you to come in here."
"Well, here I am," I told her, leaning in close myself. I didn't have trouble hearing her as my hearing was excellent, but it didn't hurt to keep the masquerade.
"I've got this situation that's gotten a little out of hand and I need someone to inform some people that they won't be getting paid this month," she told me, sidestepping saying anything really important. My brain could come up with some ideas though, and it sounded like the Venus had some bad troubles.
"You've got me," I told her, wanting her to get to the short of it so I could get things started tonight.
"Well," she said, then snapped her head around to see if anyone was close enough to maybe hear our conversations then continued on. "The parking lot next to the Empire Hotel. There's a couple of guys, Russian accents, bit thick, leaned up against an SUV. I need you to tell them Venus doesn't have their money. That's it."
"That's it," I said, wondering why she'd go to Larry with such an easy task, then she looked at the other barman. Maybe she had sent the guy last time and he was still recovering? If that were the case, why didn't she take the money from any of the Ventrue kindred that came along? I'd heard from a friend that Russian loan sharks would give you any money you asked for, but they'd make damn sure you paid it back, one way or another, whether you liked it or not. That's why I bunked with Samantha after Simeon killed my family. I didn't like their terms.
"That's it," she said, looking back at me, pleading for me to help her out.
"What's in it for me?" I asked, wondering if she had money problems. Couldn't be much, but Larry was still a guy, and maybe Venus was offering him something besides cash. Guys could be such pigs.
"Drinks on the house for a week," she said, and I chuckled softly as I looked at the bar. Even if I weren't Methuselah now, I doubt she could handle being my blood doll for a week. Constance couldn't handle it for more than a few nights. Of course, I did drain her nearly dry twice.
"I don't drink," I told her, forcing my face back to deadpan serious before I looked at her. I could see the fear again, but I doubted it was about me this time.
"You want cash?" she asked, and I nodded, knowing that any kind of merc or muscle for hire would likely want cash as well, unless they found her hot, but since Venus wasn't offering, I wasn't asking. "Whatever, I can do that. Question is: are you worth it?"
"More than you realize," I told her, making her jaw drop a bit. "I'll do it."
"I'd expected you'd bite," she told me, trying to be playful but falling a bit flat to me. Must be the worry I could hear in her voice. "Just remember, Empire Hotel, tell them I'm broke. You can run, right?" she asked, then closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment before looking at me again. "Never mind, just don't go starting any street fights, alright? These guys are connected. Anyhow, a lot of people have yet to confess to the beat priestess. Later, darling," she said, moving down the bar to talk to a young couple with more piercings in their nose than I had in my ears.
I slid off the bar, letting Venus do her thing as I headed outside. All my running around downtown LA left me with an idea of where the Empire Hotel was, so I headed there on my Ninja. I found two men in all black clothing leaned against a large SUV, just like Venus told me I'd find them.
As I parked, I watched a third man walk up to the pair, again dressed in all black with dark coats. My ears could hear the Russian the three were speaking, so I figured I had the right guys as I walked up. Their talking stopped when they noticed me, arms crossing their chests as they all tried to stand tall and stiff and play macho, but I wasn't afraid.
"Confession bitch send you?" one of the men asked, and I nodded my head.
"She did," I told them, and they all glared at me as if they were expecting something.
"Money? Where is money?" he asked, the other two fanning out a bit to circle me.
If I were afraid, I might've run then but I glared at the man as I stood resolute. "She told me to tell you she doesn't have it."
"No money?" he asked, and I heard the rustle of cloth as the other two shuffled their arms.
"There's no reason to get upset," I told them. "I'm just a messenger. I'm sure your boss has other options for acquiring this months payment."
"Da," he said, face easing a bit before giving me a dark smile. "I see her next month."
"Pleasure doing business with you," I said, easing back from the Russian men.
They didn't follow, so I quickly got back on my Ninja and booked it before they changed their minds. I wondered how I might morph this into more so I could win that bet, but unless something happened, I was going to fall short. I might make friends with her, but so far, that was it.
Going inside Confession, I didn't find Venus when I got there, the bar manned only by the guy in a neck brace. I had to believe he was the guy Venus sent last time, and unlike me, hadn't fared well at all. I didn't even take a seat, just walked up to him and asked for Venus.
"She's in her office," he said, pointing upstairs to the far end of the remodeled church. "Take the door there," he said, pointing to a door beside the bar, then lifted it up to a catwalk where lights hung. "Take the catwalk over."
"Thanks," I said, quickly making my way over, then up, quickly scrambling across the catwalk to her office. Russian loan sharks were notorious for making their customers do dirty stuff to pay off their loans. Judy, an acquaintance of mine in college, said her cousin ended up working as an escort on several gigs when she missed her payments. If I could get there at the right time, I might get Venus to agree to be my ghoul to escape it.
Looking back as I got to the door, I saw no one watching so I misted through the door as a shadow, pooling myself on the room's dark ceiling as Venus sat at her desk, phone to her ear. I didn't hear what was being said, but it seemed as if the Russians were already calling, making me glad I rushed here. A glance around the room revealed it was more than an office. A cot sat in the corner, it's ruffled cover and pillow telling me she slept here while the clothes on a makeshift shelf nearby told me she probably no longer had an apartment as she tried to make the club work.
"Yes, Boris," she said, sounding really depressed. "I'll get dressed and be right over," she continued, but there was no enthusiasm in her words. She hung up the phone, so slowly it might be said she wanted it to produce a sound that meant the Russians had changed their mind. After setting it back in its cradle, she leaned forward and put her head on the desk, sobs causing her back to heave as she cried over what was to come.
I watched as she finally forced herself to her feet, going to where the clothes were hung. I let myself drift down, forming in front of the door. Venus didn't pay me any notice as she pulled a leather outfit covered in shiny chains and spikes from her closet, crying even as she pulled it out. Once I had reformed, I put my hand on hers, pushing her hand back forward to set the hanger back on the wire.
Venus looked at me, tears in her eyes as I pulled her hand back out empty. "Not like that," I told her.
"It's how I pay Boris when I can't make the payment," she told me, her voice a whisper. I wrapped my arms around her, steering her for the bed where I sat her down so she could cry on my shoulder.
Cry she did, letting out the pain and frustration my fellow kindred had inflicted on her. I could only wonder at the moment she took out the loan from the Russians, and how long that had hung over her head. It was several minutes before the woman's crying subsided, and picked at her vest as if realizing she hadn't changed clothes yet and looked at the leather outfit hanging in her closet.
"How did it start?" I asked her, hoping to create a little intimacy between us.
"Well," she said, wiping a tear from her eye, "To start this club I had to take out a significant loan from that bastard. If I don't make the monthly, with interest, I have to fuck that fat misogynistic old man instead."
"How long has this been going on?"
"Since late last year," she said, looking forlornly at the suit. "At first, I'd just show up in something revealing, but he made me buy that outfit after my third straight month of missing payments."
"I'm sorry," I told her, holding her close. "Why keep at it? Why not just sell and move on?"
"I won't quit!" she said resolutely, shaking me off as she stood up and crossed her arms. "I won't stop until I make this work. It's my proof to my father that I'm capable of building my own club. He thinks I can't do it, well, almost two years in, and I still own it. Lock, stock and bar."
"That's what's important to you, isn't it?" I asked, and she nodded, not even looking at me as she stood with her head hung. "How far are you willing to go to get rid of Boris?"
"Boris is high up in the Russian mafia," she said, her shoulders quivering with a quiet sob. "If I could afford to have him offed, I would. But I don't have anything left."
"You have everything, to the right person," I told her, causing her to turn around and face me. "I'll get rid of Boris for you, get you out from underneath his thumb, but it will cost you."
"What would you want?" she said, her eyes full of tears. "I refuse to part with the club. I've been offered millions for it, but I won't part with it. My father will just call me a failure."
"I'm not interested in your club," I told her, and she looked at me curiously. "Oh, I'm sure it will be a success again, I have no doubt about that. It's you I want. If I go take care of Boris, I want you."
Venus looked alarmed, backing up a step. "And, uh," she said, chuckling as she continued to back up to the door as if I were about to kidnap her. "What, exactly, do you want with me?"
"I want a share of the profits in your club," I told her, and she steeled herself. "Note, I said profit. No profit, no payment. Think of me as a silent partner with a contract you can never break."
"A silent partner?" she said, mulling over the idea. "And a share of only the profits? That might work. Would you want this written in a contract? Or are you like Boris and will enforce it by beating me and forcing me to fuck for you if I don't make a penny?"
"I write my contracts in blood," I told her, not wanting to tell her about ghouling just yet. "As long as you're trying to turn a profit, you won't ever be on my bad side. I can even help you out with staff, sending over some 'friends' to help as bouncers. So, in or out?"
"There's always a catch," she said, crossing her arms. "You won't keep me around forever if I don't turn a profit."
"As the club will never be mine, what do I care?" I said, trying to keep my face passive. "I won't help you with finances, that's a different deal for later, but if you go under, I reserve the right to make you work in another business."
"More like brothel," she said sourly, and I shook my head.
"I'm not a part of anything illegal," I told her. "Worst you might drop to is dancer, but I imagine I'll find a spot for you running a motel or restaurant first. Again, profits are the name of the game."
"Nothing is illegal?" she said, sounding skeptical.
"I do employ a drug dealer, but he's mostly muscle," I told her, and she raised an eyebrow. "He uses his drugs on girls with a habit to get in their panties. He's been hanging out over at Four-Play, and enjoys being the connection there. I could always have him come over here and be your bouncer."
"I've already run out the thugs and their drugs," she told me, smirking at me. "Drugs and clubs go hand in hand, but I run a clean club. I won't allow drugs to be sold."
"Your choice, and I'll make sure Brian honors it," I told her. "So do we have a deal or not? The night's wasting away on me."
"You go to the top floor of Empire Hotel, kill Boris, and keep the mafia out of my till, and I'll let you in for a share of the profits," she said, sealing the deal between us.
"Good," I said, rising from her cot. "That just means I have a man to kill."
"You don't sound as if that will be difficult," she said, as I paused at the door, looking at it's double locks that were still engaged.
"Well, I was the one that blew up a warehouse in Santa Monica, slaughtered a massage parlor full of Tong in Chinatown, and survived the slaughter of a parking garage near downtown," I told her, listing everything I had done that would have made the news for sure. She must have heard of some it by the way her mouth dropped, and she looked at me as if I had a third eye in my forehead. "Wiping out the mafia is a small thing," I told her as she watched me undo the locks to her door.
"Why did you relock it?" she said, puzzled.
"I never un-locked it," I told her, and stepped out into the disco music to leave her wondering how I got into a locked room with no windows.
I went outside, going across the catwalk and down the stairs like a normal person. I didn't need to cause a scene in the club, and hopped on my bike and returned to the Empire Hotel. The last time I had set foot here, I had killed Jezebel Locke, now I was here to destroy the Mafia. I needed to make sure Boris was home before I killed them all though. If not, he'd get reinforcements and make life difficult for me and Venus.
Taking the elevator to the top floor, I had a momentary idea that like the Tong massage parlor, I was liable to take bullets if they were carrying automatics. Once I was out in the lobby for the top floor, I shrugged out of my coat and tucked it in a corner, leaving the gun and sword with it. I could make a sword if I needed it, but I had a hunch guns would be in large supply when I made my move.
Going through the doors, I found men standing around in groups, talking with each other in Russian. Most gave me a disapproving look when they noticed me, with a few pointing at me and saying something I didn't understand. Problem was, they had the look of hired muscle about them.
I began to count, seeing almost two dozen men total as I searched for Boris. By the time I turned a corner of the hallway, I had reached thirty-three, finding the thirty fourth man guarding a door. Figuring I had the right door, I walked up to the man.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked in a gruff voice with a thick Russian accent.
"I have to tell your boss something," I told him, using my presence to instill fear in the man. "Step aside."
"I do not think so," he said crossing his arms. I studied his face, seeing the grim set of his jaw and figured he wouldn't budge easy.
"It's important," I told him, crossing my own arms. "He'll be quite upset if he doesn't hear it and blame you."
"Very well," he said, turning around and opening a door. "Follow me."
I followed him into an office that had a door of to one side, but behind the desk in a fancy suit minus its coat, sat Boris, a large caliber gun under his left armpit. The man let off a string of Russian to the man who let me in, getting another string of Russian back, then he turned to me.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded to know.
"A friend of Venus Dare," I told him, and he shot out of the seat behind his desk to come get in my face.
"So you are girlfriend, eh?" he said, leering at me. "You sit in house I pay for, eat chocolate I pay for, and talk about how you are going to cheat club I pay for from me? You are spoiled girl too!"
"Not her girlfriend," I told him, and he looked at the guard. "I'm the hitman."
Boris snatched for his gun, and I reacted. Using my left hand, I blocked him from lining his gun on me, then brought my other up to hit his nerve point. The idea was to make him drop the gun and do it in such a way he couldn't hold anything else for the rest of the day, at least not with that hand. The move wasn't designed to be performed by a kindred with potence.
The moment my hand connected with his arm, I broke his radial and ulna bones and folded his arm down its own length to point the gun back at his own chest. His finger twitched on the trigger, as he began to scream from the pain, and his gun fired into his chest. Knowing the guard was likely reaching for his piece, I did a reverse spin kick as I released Boris, just as the guard brought out a gun of his own. My boot caught the guy in the chest, my potence fueled leg sending him flying across the room and into the wall, literally.
I took a moment to get the gun from Boris, stepping back a few steps before I put one last shot into his brain to make sure he never got back up. The guard started to crawl out of the hole in the wall he was sitting in, and I lined up the gun and put a shot into the guard's head causing him to fall out of the wall to lay sprawled on the carpet. I didn't have time to do anything before the thirty-three other guys from outside burst through the door.
I turned Boris's gun on them, firing into the knot of men. They predictably fled in all directions, the ones in front trying to turn and run for cover, the ones in back keeping them from going anywhere. The confusion kept them from returning fire effectively, even as I ran out of bullets. Dropping the gun, I activated my celerity and pulled a pair a Japanese sai for the close in work I was about to do.
Stepping in, I buried the sai in the closest man, using him as a shield as the men in the back started to fire. I then threw him bodily towards the men in the back, before using the shadows to jump behind them. My appearing behind the men seemed to confuse them, as I wrapped my arms around one man, plunging the sai into the man's heart and grabbed for his gun. The man let the gun slip free, and I pulled the trigger, letting loose a spray of bullets from the automatic pistol.
Confusion abounded as I fought the goons in close quarters combat. Anyone who raised a gun to me I used his nearest compatriot as a shield, then buried the sai in said person's heart after dumping a fresh corpse on the ground. Soon, I was the only one left standing amid a group of corpses, so I began counting the bodies and came up with everyone.
Letting go of my sai to dissolve back into shadow, I went back over to Boris. Pulling out my phone, I took a photo of what was left of the man and his head, then put my phone away. Checking the area for any sign that I'd been there specifically, besides the corpses, I picked up the gun I had taken from Boris and dropped it in a pool of blood, what few law shows I had seen growing up telling me the blood would hide my fingerprints. The rest of my prints would be easily lost in the cacophony that would be found in any hotel.
Returning to the lobby, I retrieved my duster, putting my own Glock back in its holster. I hadn't even gotten it settled on my shoulders when a ding from the elevator told me someone was coming. I misted myself into the shadows, hiding behind the planter to watch two uniformed men with guns come out. I stayed hidden, waiting until the pair disappeared down the hall before I moved out of the shadows and into the elevator.
I rode it down, coming out in the main lobby to see cops pouring in through the lobby. They pushed past me, filling the elevator before the doors closed them in. I pushed past the crowd in the filling lobby, not worried like most were about the massive shootout that had happened on the top floor and if more shots were coming. Once I got outside, I saw more cops filling the street, leaving their cars parked wherever they could find space, regardless of legality.
I hopped on my Ninja, unnoticed in the confusion and started it. A few people looked at me as my Ninja purred to life, but lost interest fast as they pushed for the hotel. I turned away from the turmoil, looping back around to Confession. Nothing had changed, so I went in and was thankful that they were no longer playing disco, but some electronica from the 80's I was sure my parents hated.
Looking around, I found Venus setting someone's drink order on the counter, the lady in question wearing a leather jacket over a fishnet top and was showing off more cleavage with her well endowed breasts than I had in my bra. Venus noticed me as she turned away, not listening to the lady babble on about finding Kent, who had went missing.
"There you are," she said, sounding upbeat as she leaned over the bar as the song switched to something heavily synthesized with an overly aggressive bass. Unfortunately, it wasn't mixed well, and I almost wished they'd just play a local radio station, instead. "Finished yet?"
"Yes," I told her back.
"I can't hear you!" she shouted as the music somehow increased in volume. It was only my undead hearing that allowed me to her now. "Let's talk in my office!"
I nodded my approval, not wanting to show the bloody pictures I had in public like this in case someone was looking. I followed Venus to the door and up to the catwalk, enjoying the shadow filled area. Once we were in her office, Venus headed straight for her chair while I stayed by the door, locking it while Venus had her back turned.
"Boris?" she said, sitting in her chair.
"Dead," I said, showing her the picture of the Russian mobster.
"Guess we're partners then," she said, giving me a faint smile as I slipped my phone back in my jacket pocket. "You got the contract for me? Or was that figurative and you intend to use force on me?"
"As I said, I write my contracts in blood," I told her, removing my duster and draping it over a chair at her desk. I then began to roll up my sleeve, getting a curious stare from Venus.
"And what do you mean by that?" she asked me, as I settled the sleeve on my arm, bare wrist exposed.
"I'm a vampire," I told her, getting a scoff in return. "Got a mirror?" I said, getting closer, then reached behind for my Glock and extended it to her. "Here, shoot me. It might hurt, but it won't kill me."
Venus shrank back from the proffered gun, as if it might bight. "Vampires are real?" she said, her voice getting high pitched as she shrank away from me.
"As are werewolves, ghosts and a whole host of other supernatural creatures," I told her. "We hide behind the masquerade, swearing all who know about us to complete secrecy and killing those who violate that order or figure it out."
"You're going to make me into one of you?" she asked, her voice still small.
"You're going to become my ghoul," I told her, and got a disdainful look from her. "It's not like Renfield from Dracula. You don't eat bugs, but you do stop aging for as long as you drink my blood. One bad thing is you have to do whatever I say, losing your will to the feeling of love you'll have for me."
"So what happens to me, specifically?" she asked, as I came around her desk to face her with nothing between us.
"You run the club, giving me a share of the profits you generate," I told her, making her smile a bit. "There's a group of us, called the Toreador, who've been running away all the talent from your club over a bet. Now that I've won, the talent will play here again, and you can grow as much as you want."
"Oh goody," she said in a slow draw. "I assume these Toreadors are the ones who've nearly run me into the ground?"
"Yes," I said, and she frowned. "Time to take your dose."
Venus stood, looking nervous as I bit my wrist to draw blood. She looked at it, mildly disgusted before looking at me. "Do I get to have a personal life?"
"My only orders are to uphold the masquerade, which means you keep vampire secrets secret, and run the club," I told her. "What you do with your own money and personal time is your concern. I won't micromanage your life because I got too much going on in mine."
"Alright then," she said, taking my wrist on sucking on my blood. I knew she was drinking it because I could feel my blood flow out my wrist. When she pulled away, her face awash in ecstasy, I rolled my sleeve down while she fumbled her way backwards into her chair.
It took a few moments for her to regain her composure, and I went around and put my duster back on, then slipped my Glock back in its holster. When Venus's eyes refocused, she smiled at me.
"That does have a kick," she said, then her smile softened. "Well, I hate to suck and run, but I do have a club to run. How long before those bloody Toreadors let the talent back?"
"As soon as I make a phone call," I told her.
"Well, you better make that phone call," she said, heading for the door. "Just send me anyone you think can help, I'll put them to work where I can. This place has been in the red so long, I doubt I could even pay them."
"Don't worry about paying anyone I send," I told her, then remembered something Sammie told me once about law. "At least, not on paper. They'll be ghouls, like you, and you might speak with them in private to find out more about what to expect."
"You never did tell me your name," she said, unlocking the door.
"Eliza Flores," I told her, and her one of her eyebrows went up.
"I read that name in the paper once," she said, turning back to look at me. "Apparently she went missing."
"And was later found dead in a barrel," I continued for her. "Missing, yes, but it wasn't me in the barrel. My best friend Samantha tried to tell people, but the people who made me disappear faked my death so well that no one believed her."
"If you didn't tell her you're still alive..." she said, giving me a stern look.
"Did that days ago," I told her, putting up my hands. "Maybe I'll look her up in a bit and take her out for dinner."
"Do you eat as a vampire?" she said, giving me a smirk that insinuated plenty.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Blood is all I want, and we use the term kindred to describe us instead of vampire. I want you to use it as well, in case anyone overhears you. You hear anyone talking about kindred, you know they're talking about us."
"Will do," she said, then ghosted out the door in a whisper of techno.
I pulled out my phone, dialing Scourge Walsh. It didn't ring once before it was answered. "Walsh, it's Eliza Flores."
"Yes, Miss Flores," he said, sounding a little distracted as paper shuffled across his desk.
"I've ghouled Venus Dare," I told him, and he made a sound of surprise.
"Might I ask about the circumstances of her ghouling?" he asked me, probably making sure I didn't use my powers to force her into it.
"She agreed to be under a blood contract in exchange for my terminating a Boris, head of the local Russian Mafia," I told him. "She's definitely stuck on her club, refused any idea of losing control or ownership. So I made my offer of control directly on her. I carried out Boris's assassination, and she drank my blood willingly after finding out I was kindred."
"Hmm," he said, then chuckled. "Well, I know a lot of people who are going to be upset that the bet is settled, but I'll let the Toreadors know it is so the two of you can start the profits flowing again."
"Thank you," I told him.
"Stop by my office when you can, and I'll give you a list of people who wagered with boons," he continued. "Do you want me to put the money in your account?"
"Please," I said, leaning against the wall.
"It's a sizeable amount, but you do have enough to pay off your mansion, now," he said, papers continuing to shuffle. "I'll give you a full report when you stop by my office."
"I'll see you soon," I said, and he hung up on me. Busy man, I thought, putting my phone away. Guess it was time to become a truly rich woman.
I started to walk back to my bike, thinking about the money. An economics class I had taken once sprung to mind, and I mulled over paying off the mansion now, or investing a larger portion and continuing to make payments and hoping that my return was greater than the interest. If that happened, I could use the returns on the money I invested to pay for the mansion, and if I invested any excess returns as well, could finance my life fairly well.
As I walked down the stairs, I made up my mind that I needed to talk to an investment broker after meeting Walsh. I had millions and needed to make my money work for me, not laze around in an account and collect dust. I might be a vampire staring eternity in the face, but money was what greased the wheels of mortals.
'Well, at least I have money to start with and don't have to wait a hundred years first,' I thought as I hit the dance floor. 'Life is good.'