Chapter 16

Dancing With The Devil

Intro Song: Way Down in the Hole, Tom Waits

Author's note: Durin Scanlin will take on a much bigger role in future chapters. While I've done my best to describe him with words, I will tell you that I had an image of Jon Hamm from Mad Men in my head when I wrote about him. Pleasant dreams!

The sky was a velvety navy as the sun slipped down over the horizon, a fitting backdrop for the lighted New York City skyscrapers, when Victoria descended the stairs to her living room. She felt more like herself than she had at any point since the attack two days ago. Like most vampires, however, she was very sensitive to changes in her body, and knew that her strength and stamina were not yet what they should be. As far as her guests were concerned, though, it was important that she appear to be fully recovered. No weakness, Victoria.

Gabrielle had done her usual excellent work; the room was full of the most influential vampires in New York City. From the expressions on some of their faces, she realized that many of them had thought her dead - or at least, so incapacitated that she could not perform her duties as head of the vampire community in NYC. Well, I'll show those blood-suckers... She strolled to the front of the room, taking care to stop and personally acknowledge several of the most senior members of the New York City vampire council.

Not every community had such a council, but it usually served this group well. Victoria had wondered more than once if its' existence had something to do with the fact that NYC was a Democratic stronghold and human politics had rubbed off on vampires. Regardless of the reason for the council's existence, she wanted…needed…them behind her.

Taking center stage, she began without preamble. "Ladies - and gentlemen - I'd like to get started, if you don't mind. First of all, I hope you'll indulge me as I quote the great Mark Twain, whom I loved dearly. He knew about us and his only reaction was curiosity; he plied me constantly with questions about our lives, our physiology, our futures... He wrote this line with vampires in mind and I believe it applies today - 'the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.' There were smiles and chuckles around the room, just as she had hoped for. When they died down, she continued. "While Samuel was right, I do need to report that there was a very serious attempt on my life."

Victoria looked around the room, attempting to assess the reaction of each vampire present. Were any of them surprised by this announcement? All eyes appeared to be staring at her intently. She was loathe to believe that anyone from the vampire community would have a hand in violence like this against other vamps, but…who really knew?

She shrugged inwardly and continued. "I count myself lucky that I was in the company of Josef Kostan and Mick St. John. Without their help and quick action, you would, most assuredly, be selecting a new leader right now. Some of you may thank them, but I also recognize that some of you may curse them." More laughter. Victoria caught the eye of Gabrielle Sinclair as she spoke. Gabby, who was also watching the crowd intently, nodded slightly in encouragement, and continued to drift silently among the assemblage, moving like a wisp of smoke caught on a capricious breeze.

Whispers had started at the mention of Josef Kostan. Victoria waited for them to stop, wanting to ensure that she had the full attention of the gathering before proceeding. "You all know that there have been a number of attacks on vamps here in the city. Up until Tuesday evening, they had all been successful. We also have several missing from our ranks. Given what has been occurring, we can now only assume that they are dead - and mourn their loss. A number of the dead or missing are vamps of significant age - with great strength, wealth, and wisdom. Do not make the mistake of assuming that any of those attributes will protect you from the threat now upon us."

With a nod toward Gabrielle, she articulated what she knew would be her most controversial statement. "With what we have uncovered, I - we - have no choice but to assume that Crucis is behind all these tragedies that have hit our community. There are too many occurrences for this to not be an organized attack on us."

Gasps and murmurs of surprise accompanied her announcement and Victoria noted several council members shaking their heads in disbelief. She had expected this. There were always those who preferred to keep their collective heads in the sand rather than face what was, almost undoubtedly, coming.

She raised her hand for silence. "I know this is not what you wanted – or probably expected - to hear. But, as head of the vampire community here in New York, it is my duty to keep you informed and plan for complications such as this. We need to review the contingency plan I have developed..."

"Complications?! Victoria, I never knew you to be such a master of understatement!" The speaker stepped forward from the crowd as he interrupted her. Tall and lean, with a handsome face and full head of black hair, his deep voice commanded attention. "I certainly have a healthy respect for the threat Crucis can pose. However, I for one, am not willing to go on hearsay and speculation. I demand to know exactly what proof you have that they are behind all this before we make what could be very foolish - and costly - decisions." He pivoted on his heel to face the assemblage. "Don't you all think we deserve that?" He smiled, flashing even white teeth, as he saw heads nod.

Victoria's eyes glowed white, but she took several deep breaths to get herself under control before answering. Calm and reason... The discussion would not be helped by a confrontation between Durin and her.

"I thought we had hashed all this the other night with Josef, Durin. I know you have your own thoughts about Crucis. But, times are different now. Their methods are different now. They are much more sophisticated... and much more deadly. There is no other answer for all of the attacks and disappearances we have encountered!" She said this firmly, hoping he would not push the issue further - but knowing that he would... Damn you.

"The proof, Victoria?" Durin Scanlin asked his question scornfully, sure of the answer.

She sighed. I hate it when I'm right... "Durin, I don't have a calling card with the Crucis logo on it, if that's what you mean. And, I don't have definitive proof yet - but I will. I promise you that. In the meantime..."

"In the meantime, my dear Victoria, we should break up this little attention-grabbing soiree and go about our business until you can prove what you claim." There were murmurs of agreement with Durin's declaration from around the room. He nodded his head, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Good night, my dear. Glad to see you are up and about. But do take care. You look a little...pale." With that, he stalked out, followed by most of the vampires in the room.

Victoria was furious; Durin had always had an issue with her being in charge, but sabotaging the entire community to score points against her was inexcusable. She curled her hands into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms while she fought for control. She realized now that his acquiescence at the meetings where Josef was present had simply been a ploy to lure her into a false sense of security.

Gabrielle stalked up to her, shaking her head. "That idiot! I cannot believe he would challenge you like that with so much at risk, Victoria. He needs to be staked - and I'm just the person for the job!"

Her mentor held up her hand warningly. They were not alone and it would not be productive for the remaining vampires to see and hear their frustration with Durin's comments.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, it would appear that our meeting for tonight is over. You know that I do not agree with Durin's assessment of the situation. However, he is entitled to his opinion. Gabrielle Sinclair and I will secure the proof that some of our community seems to be demanding, but in the meantime, I beg of you - be cautious. Don't go out more than is absolutely necessary, and, if at all possible, do not go alone. I will be in touch very soon."

The rest of the vampires dispersed but, from the snatches of conversation Victoria could catch, it was clear that her warning was not taken seriously by most.

She glared at Gabby, her eyes white-hot and fangs showing. "I will not let Durin Scanlin destroy this community, Gabrielle. We will secure the proof we need - immediately!" She motioned for the younger vampire to follow her into her den.

Gabby, eyes also glowing, started to speak. "Victoria, you know I..." Before she could finish her sentence, she was cut off by the still-furious vampire. "Gabrielle, I know he's your sire, but he is way out of line here. If he doesn't get with the program, I swear I will stake him myself - and leave him for Crucis to find!"

She stalked off. Gabby watched her go for a moment, then, shaking her head, followed her mentor. This was not going to be fun.

The luxurious offices were mostly deserted, with only a few diligent attorneys and para-legals still working at 7:30 in the evening. Jack Connelly had not planned on being one of those attorneys, but his client was insistent that they meet this late. With the amount of billable hours the account represented - and the size of the estate involved - he had no choice but to agree. Sometimes he wondered if making partner was worth all the aggravation and lost personal time. None of this showed on his face, however, as he stood up to greet his visitor.

"Good evening, Mr. Durand. I hope this time was convenient for you." He extended his hand in greeting. The tall figure said nothing, ignoring the outstretched hand of the young lawyer, as he settled into the wing chair in front of the desk and arranged the creases on his pants.

Clearing his throat and nervously shuffling the papers on his desk, Connelly dropped into the chair behind his desk. Why the hell did I get stuck with this? Where is Reed? He's the partner - he gets the big bucks for this stuff, not me.

"Okay, well, let's get started, Mr. Durand... that's a French name, isn't it? May I call you Christophe? "

"Are you in the habit of addressing your clients in such a familiar way, Mr. Connelly? Because, I have to tell you, that degree of casualness is not a custom I embrace." Christophe Durand stared coldly at the attorney and continued. "I apologize if that offends you but I'm afraid I have a hard and fast rule when it comes to employees. Familiarity leads to confusion and misunderstanding. Since your firm was retained by John Whitley and I am here representing my organization as beneficiary of his estate, that makes you - indirectly - my employee. So, if you would proceed, Mr. Connelly…and do call me Mr. Durand."

Connelly flushed hotly, trying his best to control his temper after this speech. What a pompous ass! In an attempt to regain his composure, he chanted to himself, "You want to make partner someday... don't throw ten years away... you want to make partner someday..."

No wonder Reed had suddenly remembered a prior commitment that prevented him from attending this meeting. Bastard! Clearly, being the son of the founder of the practice came with some hidden perks. With a sigh, Connelly regrouped. The sooner he got on with this unpleasant task, the sooner this man would be out of his office and he could go home.

"Well, you are exactly right... Mr. Durand. Your organization has come into a considerable amount of money as the major beneficiary of Mr. Whitley's extensive estate - worth approximately $500 million - before taxes and legal fees, of course. And, with Mr. Whitley's wife preceding him in death, and his sole offspring, Sara Whitley, missing and presumed dead for over fifty years, we do not anticipate that anyone will step forward to contest the will. He had no other surviving family members that we are aware of."

"So, Mr. Connelly, let us stop dancing around this. How much are we receiving - and when shall we expect it?" Durand's inscrutable stare pinned the lawyer to his chair with a look that made the lawyer feel like a bug under a microscope. He smiled, but somehow it only made him appear more threatening - the smile did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and hard.

Connelly glanced uneasily toward the door to his office, hoping that other staff members remained at work. There was a threatening air about this man that made him very uneasy with the thought that he could be here alone with Durand.

"We- well, Mr. Durand, we have to complete the tax analysis and total up all the billable hours on the probate of the estate. That m- may take another week or so..." Connelly hated the stammer and quiver in his voice, hated letting this obnoxious man know he was getting to him.

Swallowing hard, he started again. "Mr. Reed instructed me to discuss with you the fact that this bequest was not set up as an endowment and explore your interest in making that change. As you probably know, an endowment provides a permanent financial commitment to an organization. The interest on the principal in an endowment fund would provide an ongoing source of income for your organization without touching the principal..."

Durand raised his hand, halting the flow of words from the nervous lawyer. "First of all, if Mr. Reed has a question that he would like to ask me, he may feel free to do so - when he does me the courtesy of appearing in person. Secondly, my organization has very specific plans in mind for this money. We are not interested in establishing an endowment that would mete out small funds to us at the mercy of your law firm's whims - for a large fee, I might add. No, Mr. Connelly - no endowment."

Jack Connelly counted to ten before he answered - if this condescending attitude of Durand's kept up much longer, he would lose it, partnership or no partnership.

"Alright, duly noted. Mr. Reed felt we would be remiss in our duties to both you, and to Mr. Whitley's estate, if we did not mention that option. Obviously, Mr. Whitley believed strongly in the mission of your organization - CHOIR, is it? Given that he was committed enough to bequeath a considerable part of his fortune, we felt it important to at least explore options that would allow you to carry on as long as possible. And, I believe I explained over the phone that Mr. Reed had planned to be here, but a personal emergency drew him away. He apologizes for his inability to be present."

Durand waved his hand as if batting at a pesky gnat. "I've already forgotten about Mr. Reed. Now, Mr. Connelly, can you or can you not provide me with the information I requested - the exact amount I am to received on behalf of CHOIR and the date upon which I will receive it?" So I can figure out how quickly I can transfer it to Crucis.

"Yes, sir. The amount total will be in the neighborhood of $300 million dollars and we should be able to have the money wire-transferred to your organization within two weeks. "

"That will not work, Mr. Connelly. Not at all." Without raising his voice, Durand still managed to convey his anger and disapproval. "I expect the funds to be in the CHOIR account no later than one week from today."

"Mr. Durand, that's just not possible. We simply cannot probate an estate of this size in that amount of time... What is CHOIR involved in, may I ask, that would require that amount of cash influx on such short notice?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized they were a mistake of gargantuan proportions.

Durand rose to his full height of 6 feet, 4 inches and glared down menacingly at Connelly from the other side of the desk. "Does your firm pay you to pry into the affairs of your clients, Mr. Connelly? Are you sure you really want to ask that question? Because if I provide you with the answer, you may not like the consequences." He spoke in little more than a whisper, but the threat was unmistakable.

Jack felt as if time were slowing down and all the oxygen was being sucked out of the room. He had never before experienced such a feeling of being in imminent danger. Am I going to get out of here in one piece?

Durand seemed to hesitate, then sat back down in his chair. Easy, Christophe, back off! You want to scare him enough that he never talks about us, not scare him so much that it's ALL he talks about! He cleared his throat with an air of embarrassment. "I apologize, Mr. Connelly. I sometimes am my own worst enemy. I just believe that the work of my organization is so vital that I tend to overreact to anything that appears to be an obstacle for it. Cave zelotes!"

He noted Connelly's puzzled look and sighed inwardly. Were lawyers taught nothing anymore?
"That is Latin, Mr. Connelly. Beware the zealot."

Seeing the lawyer relax slightly, he continued. "Your question is, indeed, a reasonable one. CHOIR's charter requires secrecy in our operations, which is why I tend to be so over-protective when asked about it. CHOIR stands for Center for Humanitarian Objectives and Institutional Research. We step in when all other efforts fail - when it seems that all is lost. Our largest projects within the past decade have been clean up and support after 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina." He knew that those were magical words to most people, and Connelly proved to be no exception.

"I had no idea that your organization was involved in either of those, Mr. Durand. What wonderful work." Jack's tone was full of faked enthusiasm. Anything to turn his guest's scrutiny away from him was a welcome topic.

"Most recently, we have established long-range plans to help in Haiti. We will be needed there for quite some time, I'm afraid. To address another of your earlier questions, we do already have a major endowment that supports ongoing efforts, Mr. Connelly, but the events of the last decade have strained our resources tremendously. And, Haiti, well..."

Durand shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "Well, let's just say that we have only been a drop in the bucket so far with respect to the Haitian tragedy. My family is French, as you so astutely surmised, so this is a project very near and dear to my heart. We need this influx of funds to do the work that this organization was created for. Work that is truly necessary. Actually, until this bequest came along, we had no idea how we were going to meet our obligations." These last sentences were completely true.

"I understand, Mr. Durand. And - I apologize for prying. That was unprofessional of me. I hope you will not feel it necessary to mention it to Mr. Reed."

"I'll tell you what, Mr. Connelly. You don't mention this conversation to anyone - and I shall do likewise." He reached across the desk to shake with the lawyer, his large hand swallowing that of the much smaller man.

Connelly couldn't help but think that Durand looked like a shark about to devour its catch, his eyes black and dead-looking as he took his hand. "You have a deal, sir."

"Good! Now then, let's discuss how to expedite this transfer of funds..."

End Song: Money For All, Nine Horsemen