Chapter Six: Politically Correct
Disclaimer: All the characters and places belong to their respective creators and owners. I only own my OC and make no money whatsoever out of this.
A loud buzzing noise seeped through my unconsciousness, gradually bringing me back from it. I awoke with a start, realizing that it was the doorbell. Funny, now that I thought about it, it was the first time that I heard its sound, since no visitor had ever come to my haven. Still groggy, I went to the door and asked the caller to identify themself.
"It's me," the Regent's voice came through the door and, while one part of me breathed out in relief, the other half was in panic: had I overslept? It never happened, but I had been exceptionally tired yesterday.
"One second!" I called, hurriedly opening the door, and being greeted by Strauss' astonished stare. Looking down at myself, I realized I was still in my bathrobe, which wasn't a particularly revealing garment by modern standards, but for someone raised in an epoch when showing your ankles was considered an outrageous scandal, well…
"I am sorry," I babbled, mortified, hugging myself and taking cover behind the door-panel, being grateful for the small mercy that Kindred couldn't blush. "I was still sleeping, I do not know how it could have happened… Am I late?"
"No… actually, sunset was half an hour ago. But I wanted to confer with you before the meeting, and to head there together." His voice was impassive, but his eyes were trained on the floor. Great: how to lose a credibility built in two years in a matter of seconds.
"Yes, sure… Please make yourself comfortable, I will be back in a moment." I indicated the couch, rapidly closed the door behind him and ran back to the security of my room.
Cursing my idiocy I quickly donned my favourite formal outfit for business deals: a simple grey tailleur. I tied up my hair and put on my heels at record time, trying to get once again accustomed to them in the small walk downstairs. Strauss was inspecting my small library, the only personal touch in a mostly aseptic environment: this might be my haven, but it wasn't really home.
"I apologise for my impropriety before: the last few nights must have taken a higher toll on my body than I had expected… You awoke me and, fearing an emergency, I just rushed to open the door without thinking about my unsuitable attire."
I half bowed and held my breath, as he looked up from the book he was holding, a rather worn-out copy of Descartes' Discourse on the Method that I had found by chance at a makeshift nocturnal flea market in Santa Monica.
"No, it is I who should apologise for not announcing my visit in advance. I should have imagined that you would need to rest beyond the usual unavoidable time of torpor," he replied, turning his attention back to the tome.
"You know, I made his acquaintance while he was serving under the Duke of Bavaria," Strauss recounted, indicating the book. "He had recently suffered from a mild Dementation, in Neuburg, although he was oblivious to it. It was fortunate, otherwise I would have had to dispose of him."
"The three visions were a result of Dementation?" I asked, baffled and wondering how many other decisive moments in history had been influenced or controlled by Kindred. At the same time, I was grateful to the Regent for the change of topic.
"Indeed…" he trailed off, putting the book back on the shelf. "Turning our attention to the present, there are a few points we need to discuss before heading to Venture Tower."
"The Primogen gathering in front of the Prince, normal routine, I see," I smiled at the cleverness of the logistic decision: the best hiding place was in plain sight, as Poe had taught me. Nevertheless, a small part of me was uncomfortable about going back to that place now that the Ancient Regime had fallen.
"I had no doubt you would appreciate the subtlety," he smiled back, as the awkwardness finally evaporated. "There are a few things I must ask of you, and I pray that you follow my indications carefully."
"Of course."
"First of all, for all extents and purposes the Prince is still believed to be in charge. I commend you for sparing the Ventrues, it has been vital for maintaining this façade. There is a Kine security guard, though, that appears to be quite… perturbed and is incessantly asking about his 'crumb cake'," he coughed and chuckled and I did not know if I wanted to hug or choke Chunk. I could already see that tonight was a bad time for my reputation. "I would like for you to reassure him and appear unfazed, as if he had imagined everything. Use Domination, if it is necessary."
"Yes, sir," I sighed, rubbing my forehead.
"Then, during the Council, I want you to be particularly watchful with everyone, principally the Ventrue, Brujah and Gangrel Primogen and later give me a full report on anything suspicious. I am sure you know how to appropriately act during these circumstances."
"Yes, do not speak unless asked to, be silent, respectful, and unobtrusive. In short, play dumb and listen carefully."
"Perfect. Whatever happens, follow my lead and, if fate does not play against us, we should emerge victorious."
"Yes, Max. I will."
I did not dare to ask him what he had decided about my proposal, after all I would discover it soon and there was no point in embarrassing either of us by bringing it up.
The walk to the Tower was mostly quiet, except for the odd stare here and there aimed at the Regent. He simply stood out, even in Downtown's mismatched crowd. Finally we reached the Tower, and he gallantly opened the door and let me pass first.
"HONEY PIE!" Chunk cried out as soon as I entered the building. He almost looked like he was on the verge of tears. I pitied him, and was almost touched, if not for the fact that it was terribly embarrassing.
"Hi, Chunk. Are you feeling all right?" I asked, as if I were surprised by his behaviour.
"Of course, Crumb Cake, it is you who… Well Mr LaCroix told me I couldn't let you in, and then I remember talking to you yesterday and then I don't know…" he trailed off, clearly puzzled. The Domination had effectively messed with his memories.
"Listen, Chunk, yesterday night you were here as usual, you were snoring on a donut, probably were having a bad dream and I just let myself in."
"But Mr LaCroix was very angry with you, he…" he insisted, flailing his big hands around.
Suddenly a scheme sprung to my mind, an idea that would allow me to put his suspicions to rest, while ridding myself of his endless flirting without having to openly reject him.
"Oh, but Sebastian and I squabble all the time, you know. When you feel so strongly for someone as we do, it is a normal thing, besides, it is a good excuse for making it up later," I winked, watching impassively as Chunk's eyes got even wider and damper. I felt bad for him, but it was better to burst his bubble now: this little game was getting out of hand and dangerous, most especially for him. All this running around asking questions was not good for his wellbeing. Besides, my "significant other" would never be here to disprove my assertions, no matter what the Primogen decided.
"What? You and Mr LaCroix…? But I… But I…" he babbled, as realization dawned upon him.
"Yes, well, we are quite protective of our private lives. But I had thought you had realised it, I mean, why should I always visit him at ungodly hours? To discuss business?"
I could feel the Regent coughing beside me and, with the corner of my eye, I could see he was valiantly trying to choke down laughter.
"But he…" Chunk meekly protested, indicating the Regent.
"I can assure you that all is well, my friend," Strauss provided, clearly amused. "Yesterday night I witnessed with my own eyes as he kneeled before her, begging for her clemency, and this unfortunate incident was solved. A rather… moving scene."
It was my turn to keep myself from bursting up. I hadn't expected for the Regent to help me in the play, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. You had to give the man credit: he had a great sense of humour.
"I see…" Chunk finally murmured, dejected, his head bowed down. "I will buzz you up, Crumb… I mean, Ms Wilson, Mr Strauss."
"Thank you, Chunk," I replied with a mixture of relief and melancholy, but this "courtship" couldn't go on, as heart-warming as it had been.
"Cr… Ms Wilson," he called at me, as I was heading towards the elevator.
"Yes, Chunk?"
"You won't tell Mr LaCroix about us, I mean about this… About…"
"Don't worry, it will be our little secret," I promised, winking and smiling.
"My lips are sealed," Strauss provided, as we stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors closed behind us, our eyes met and we both burst into a short but liberating bout of laughter.
"I am sorry for involving you in this little charade, but the poor guy has had a crush on me for the longest of time, and he just wouldn't listen to reason," I managed to say between chuckles.
"Do not worry, it was quite entertaining, and… invigorating. I hope you will manage to recover from having to part with your beau," the Regent replied, composing himself.
"I will be an inconsolable white widow for the years to come," I avowed, smirking.
The elevator clanged open and we turned deadly serious, heading for the Penthouse office. It was still empty. Strauss took the seat behind the desk, and I was now sure that it was to reinforce a point with the other Primogen. He gestured for me to stand beside him, in the place LaCroix usually reserved for the late Sheriff. Poor guy, I realised with a start that I did not even know his name. He was just an anonymous tool, a cog in the machine. And, perhaps, so was I.
A little while later, the door opened seemingly on its own, and I immediately knew who it was, so I was pretty unfazed when Gary Golden appeared out of thin air a foot before me.
"Herr Strauss," he drawled in mocking obsequiousness. "Hi Boss, heard you put on quite a show yesterday. Mitnick sends his regards."
"Primogen Golden," I courteously nodded, earning Strauss' approving glance.
Probably sensing that I wouldn't be of many words that night, Gary reluctantly took a seat.
We all turned as the door opened again, and two men and a woman walked in. Although it was the first time I met them, I could easily identify them as the Toreador, Gangrel and Brujah Primogen.
"Maximillian, it is always a pleasure to see you again, regardless of the circumstances," the first man exclaimed with a cheerful tone. He looked as if he were in his early forties, tall, with green eyes and black hair sprinkled with white. He could be considered handsome, and from this fact alone, coupled with his slight Hispanic accent, I identified him as the Toreador Primogen.
"Thank you Raoul," the Regent saluted politely, confirming my suspicions. I could see that he wasn't particularly fond of the other man's overly warm attitude. Still, he seemed quite at ease with him.
"And this must be our new local celebrity, Ms Wilson was it? I have been looking forward to meeting you, but good old LaCroix seemed to want to keep you all for himself!"
That sounded terribly wrong, I thought, hoping that the double entendre was not intentional. He offered me his hand and I politely took it, doing my best not to cringe as he brought it to his lips. I was extremely uncomfortable with "human" contact and welcomed it only from those people I was really close to.
"Primogen, it is an honour making your acquaintance," I replied in greeting, bowing my head slightly since I ignored his surname and did not deem it wise to call him by first name. Again, Strauss seemed satisfied.
"This is nonsense, we are not at a debutante tea party!" exclaimed a burly man that I could easily identify as the Gangrel Primogen. He was clearly nervous and impatient, a real wolf on the prowl. I suddenly missed Beckett and his sophisticated attitude.
"I agree with Joseph! Let's cut down the idle chatter, Strauss, we all know we are here because that damned Napoleon wannabe went barmy. As for his infamous protégée, I would like to know how come she is not being held with her master, considering that, last time I checked, she was accused of murdering one of the most prominent men of my Clan. Her change of heart is as belated and convenient as it is credible."
It did not take a genius to know that this was the Brujah primogen. She was a rather stocky lady, who appeared to be in her mid-fifties. Short grey hair, trimmed in a masculine style, she was dressed as a suffragette. Her feminism was apparently less strong than one would imagine, since she did not even deign to look at me, speaking as if I weren't there.
"Please, Anne, at a moment like this internal feuds should be set aside," Strauss entreated, and I could sense that she was grating on his nerves. I couldn't blame him, present situation notwithstanding; from what I had heard of her, she was the kind of woman provided with a very short fuse, who could start a momentous argument on the most trivial of topics. Well, she was Brujah, after all.
I was already rejoicing for the wonderful female representation in the Council when a familiar voice interrupted the kindling animosity and made us turn towards the door. There stood "Therese" Voerman, apparently as impeccable as always, nose up in the air and condescending stare, she was such a perfect rendition of a stereotypical Ventrue that at the beginning she had had me completely fooled.
"Primogen Voerman," Strauss greeted, grateful for the distraction, confirming my suspicions. Just wonderful, the women in the Council were a hot-headed lady who seemed to be on a perennial menopause hormonal rage, and a Malkavian with split personality disorder, tendencies towards self-destructiveness, promiscuity, and I did not dare to imagine what else. Still, at least I knew her, and she owed me quite much, most especially for keeping silent about her and her "sister". As her glacial eyes met mine, I could see that she was aware of it. Just then the Jeanette part gave me a wink, that Therese promptly masked by bringing a tissue to her eyes.
"Primogen Voerman, it's a pleasure seeing you again, it has been a long time…" I saluted myself, politely, trying to mask my amusement.
Everyone finally took their Chairs and, exactly two hours after sunset, the Ventrue Primogen made his triumphal entry. The best word to describe him was chilling: it wasn't the same kind of intimidation of Gary, a Tzimisce, or any other unnaturally shaped being. He was the kind of person who could make your spine shiver in uneasiness just with one look. And if I had thought LaCroix's eyes to be cold and daunting, his made my blood freeze in my veins. Tall, thin, with high cheekbones protruding from his stern face, he was how as a child I would have imagined a vampire to look like: perfectly white hair, reaching below his shoulders, black, emotionless eyes, he was one of those people who, even as a human, were of an unidentifiable age. Still, his slightly sagging skin suggested that he had been Embraced when he was way over his prime.
"Primogen Cutteridge," Strauss's tone was outwardly gracious, but I could immediately feel a tension filling the expanse of air between the two men. The fact that he had been included in the people I had to keep under strict surveillance seemed to back up my impression. Maybe he just had a dislike for Ventrues (which wasn't very reassuring), but I could sense there was more than that.
"Strauss," the man drawled out in a deep and slightly raucous gravel voice, as if bored, only to set those black holes on me. "So it is true: you are associating with a Childe of Ventrue, I had never thought I would see the day."
"I assess Kindred for their individual merits, not for their Clan," the Regent replied courteously; still, the veiled jab both at LaCroix and, presumably, at the Primogen, did not go unnoticed.
"But, of course, she is our Enfant Prodige, after all," the other man countered as evenly, gracing me with a smile that did not reach his eyes and that seemed out of place and disturbing in that face.
"Oh, please! Last week she was the bastard Childe of a traitor, who had lived up to her Sire by betraying your poor, precious Prince!" the Brujah interjected, clearly outraged by Cutteridge's "belated and convenient change of heart". So at the last council Brujah and Ventrue had formed an unlikely alliance: the former probably to avenge Nines' death, and the latter to suck up and cover LaCroix's royal derrière. Of course, now that the Prince had fallen, he had to prove that he wasn't an accomplice, thus the strained reverence. She, on the other hand, could raise the demand: last week, in the impossibility to frame the Prince, I had been a quite satisfying scapegoat, now she wanted both of our heads, though predominantly LaCroix's, if I may make an educated guess. But, since his guiltiness was not under discussion, she was concentrating her efforts on me.
"Primogen MacKenna, until yesterday we were not privy to LaCroix's treason, and had no proof of his duplicity. We merely made a decision based on the evidence available at the time; now that new information has been brought to our attention, we can re-evaluate the circumstances and Kindred involved under a new light."
Just as I had imagined, now his first concern was to play pious and to join the winning side. Still, I did not believe, even for a second, that he had truly changed his opinion about me. The contempt was there, although skilfully camouflaged, and I doubted it would ever fade.
"Please, Sirs, we are faced with an emergency, and we should concentrate our efforts on solving it," Strauss interjected, blocking MacKenna's retaliation. I could sense that he would have loved himself to see Cutteridge squirm, but, being wise, he knew it would have to wait. "And, Ms Wilson's conduct and loyalty to the Camarilla should not be under inspection. If it were not for her, we would have ignored LaCroix's duplicity and he would still be in charge, probably ready to sell us all to the Kuei-Jin to put his hands on the Ankaran Sarcophagus' key. She risked her life to allow us to dethrone him and to ensure the preservation of the Camarilla, despite having been undeservedly wronged by our most prominent representative. That…"
"That doesn't prove anything!" Anne interrupted fiercely, fists balled and half raised. "She killed Mr Rodriguez on the Prince's behalf, but then he used her as a scapegoat, so she, not having another choice, turned against him. It was just a matter of convenience, not heroics!"
Damn, she was really persistent, and, worst, she made sense! I hoped this wasn't going to become my trial, and that the Regent wouldn't give up and sell me off like LaCroix had, after I had done all the dirty work for him.
"She could have easily gone to the Anarchs and joined them, they used to be on good terms."
"Not after she murdered their leader!"
"Really, did she? Or, did anyone, for that matter?" Strauss asked, with a small smile.
"What do you mean?" Anne asked, and I could see she was worried. Luckily the Regent seemed set on protecting me, and he had evidently given up the hope of being able to move to the topic of LaCroix's fate before my name was definitely cleared. The other Primogen were watching the match without bothering to interfere, some of them because they had voted in my favour in the first place, as Strauss had told me, Cutteridge because the idea of LaCroix being a solitary traitor was awfully convenient most especially for him, and the others simply because, unlike MacKenna, they were more worried about the Prince, the scandal and the long-term consequences. I was an accessory, a pawn and my fate was not that important in their eyes, as long as it did not interfere with their plans.
"This morning Primogen Golden brought to my attention a very enlightening piece of evidence. If you will…" he gestured to Gary, who stood up with his usual smirk and produced a DVD.
"Yes Boss. Well, you see, Griffith Park has a surveillance system monitoring the two gondola stations at night, for safety reasons," he explained, approaching the giant flat screen and introducing the disc in the appropriate reader. "Since it is Werewolf territory, we Nosferatu have always been in charge of protecting the Masquerade: as each night draws to an end, we exchange the possibly compromising tapes with pre-made 'blank' ones. The substituted tapes are usually kept for a week and then overwritten with the blank video, to replace the new tapes and so on… We rarely check their contents, unless something unusual happens."
He pushed the play button, and an excerpt from the tapes, skilfully cut and mounted, went on before our eyes, starting with me disembarking the gondola. Then an outside camera filmed two people, who were easily recognisable as me and Nines, talking near the station. Next, something that looked like rain in the black and white video, but that I knew were ashes and, after Nines took some steps, a flash made him disappear from view. Gary rewound the tape and played it at a reduced speed, and the Werewolf could clearly be seen, claws and fangs unsheathed, jumping on Nines and rolling out of the view.
"The original unabridged tapes are available for inspection, if you have any doubts," Strauss explained, raising a hand to halt any comments. "But there is still more, Primogen…"
Gary resumed playing the tape and, in the fixed external view of the Camera I could be seen, running and being chased by another Werewolf, then coming back, presumably after having killed him, inspecting the cliff, looking for Nines, and taking my ride back down. Once again Strauss motioned for him to stop and then resumed talking.
"As you can see from the timer, Ms Wilson had to escape the Werewolf for three full minutes, until she managed to dispose of him with a rather clever move. I seriously doubt that anyone of sane mind would willingly set a fire to draw Werewolves out and then stay there to see it happen. It is clear that she and Mr Rodriguez were both set up by a third party, and the only one who knew of her mission was LaCroix himself. Then, as you can see, she mingled around to search for Mr Rodriguez, and, when all hope was lost, she finally went back to safety."
"That doesn't…!" MacKenna once again tried to protest but was cut short by the Regent.
"There is one final but vital clue to be gathered from this tape."
Gary hit the play button for the final time, and I froze: there could be seen Nines, crawling up the cliff, stumbling to the gondola and going down.
"You will be relieved to know that Mr Rodriguez is very much alive, or at least left the Park on his own more or less steady feet. I infer that he may now being laying low, healing his wounds and hiding from LaCroix, who he still believes to be in charge," Strauss concluded with a satisfied smirk.
Nines was alive: part of me was filled with an incredible relief, and another part could not help but notice with a pang that he wasn't that brave a hero, after all. Four full nights had passed since the incident, and he evidently valued his hide far more than mine, since he had not bothered to at least let it be known that he was alive. Of course it was the rational thing to do, he was better off being believed dead, but it clashed with the image everyone had of him. For the umpteenth time I was reminded that Anarchs really were not that different from the rest of us, and at least we did not pretend to be virtuous and above reproach.
MacKenna for a second seemed to deflate and concede defeat, but then fire once again glimmered in her eyes.
"First of all, why do these tapes come out only now?" she enquired venomously and on this point I couldn't really blame her.
"This question should be addressed to Primogen Golden," Strauss replied, and I easily detected that he was not very happy with Gary, but quite resigned.
"The Prince sent his Sheriff to threaten the brother who had salvaged the tapes. He was forced to give them up but, providentially, he had already made a copy. Still, he was so frightened that he did not tell me until yesterday night. You see, all is clear and limpid," he almost chanted, smirking, fully aware that this was the most transparent and implausible of lies. It was obvious that he was storing them as blackmail material and making deals with LaCroix for favours, until it became more convenient to let them out. Trademark Nosferatu and nobody would bother trying to prove him wrong: his services were precious and the terms and conditions clear. The highest bidder won, plain and simple.
"Well, even if all of this is true, she still turned against LaCroix only after he betrayed her. That cannot erase the fact that she spent two years playing his lapdog and covering who knows how many dirty secrets!" For some reason she did not want to give up, but I could hear that her argument was getting weaker and desperate, and she was probably just persisting to avoid having to admit defeat. The other Primogen were now showing some signs of irritation and impatience.
"I have now known Ms Wilson for nearly two years, and I can assure you that for the whole duration of our acquaintance she has proved to me that she is a person of her word, that her primary loyalty is to the Camarilla and, only subsequently, to its Prince and representatives. If you would allow her to recount the recent happenings, since it is the reason why she was invited to attend tonight, I am sure you will see it."
The others nodded in earnest agreement, clearly wanting to get beyond this by now moot point. Finally, even MacKenna saw it was pointless for her to continue and sat back once again, seething.
Strauss gestured for me to speak and, taking a comforting breath, I started doing so, narrating my discovery of the Prince's duplicity, of confronting him about it and the consequent results, of how Xiao had told me that he was behind her murdering Grout and pinning the blame on Nines, and my raids both at the Kuei-Jin Temple and Venture Tower.
It felt like being at an exam, in front of a commission, when you tried to scan the Professors' faces to gauge their opinion. They started out more or less impassable, some friendlier (like Raoul) than others; when I explained the truth behind Grout's demise, MacKenna looked like she wanted to burst and the others started to be seriously perturbed. Cutteridge, in particular, exuded nervous tension, and only his experience prevented him from fidgeting in his seat. By the end of my testimony, everyone, Anne MacKenna included, had evidently fully grasped what consequences the Conclave would likely bring. Obviously Strauss had not deemed it prudent to fully divulge the details before meeting them eye-to-eye, and they had only had a general idea. I was sure that even the Brujah, as much as she may more or less sympathise with the Anarchs, was now afraid of the possibility of facing a modern rendition of the French Revolution. In the collective madness of a "witch hunt", her head would not be spared.
"Thank you, Ms Wilson," the Regent said and I knew my role had been played and it was now in his hands. "I am sure it is not necessary for me to point out how the very existence of our organisation, not to mention our lives, are perilously hanging over a chasm. This is an unparalleled scandal and attempting to solve it with traditional methods may mean playing in the hands of our enemies."
I almost felt an electrical jolt: I could not believe my ears, that meant…
"Bloody bastard!" the Gangrel Primogen hissed a bit too forcefully. "He has condemned us all!"
"The Anarchs will think that we all helped the Kuei-Jin killing their last leader to reinstall our rule in the city," MacKenna whispered, wide-eyed.
"The Anarchs are the least of our problems: there will be a collective uproar!" Raoul exclaimed, and everybody had to agree. Nothing like the threat of impending death to reunite the different factions.
"Please, please, sirs. What you say is true, but not all is lost, if…" Strauss tried to regain the reins, but was rudely interrupted by Voerman's laughter. She had been silent until now, probably trying to keep control of the Jeanette side, but now I could see she was losing it. Marvellous.
"To think… TO THINK…" she uttered between more and more maniacal fits of laughter. I looked at Strauss and could see he was at a loss, probably she had never shown instability before, but faced with the possibility of death and unable to vent by bickering with her "sister" she was snapping like a dry twig… Maybe she would have been better off if I had let her dispose of one of the two personalities.
"To think… that it was… YOU… the perfect little princess… who convinced me to join the Camarilla!" she managed to exclaim between shattering chuckles, seemingly looking in my direction, since she was seated across from me, and the other Primogen did the same, comprehensibly astonished. I knew that this was simply Jeanette recriminating to Therese, the different nuance of her voice lost to an untrained ear in her hysteria. I hoped they wouldn't actually believe that, when I was barely more than a fledgling, I had been able to persuade an Anarch Baron of such a thing. So much for playing dumb: she made me sound like a true mastermind, a thing that could not be farther from the truth. Therese had taught me a hard and important lesson, and had shown me exactly what I should expect from the Kindred world. She had walked all over me, toyed me around in an endless fool's errand to amuse herself and only at the end I had managed to get something out of her, and I still couldn't believe how lucky I had been to survive the showdown between the two "siblings".
If this misunderstanding wasn't bad enough, there was also the fact that I did not want "Jeanette" to emerge, it was the only leverage I had on Voerman for future times. Besides, when she was out of control, she was extremely dangerous and the Primogen had more pressing matters to worry about.
"Primogen Voerman, please!" Strauss entreated repeatedly but it was futile, she was in her own world. Probably trapped in childhood nightmares, if her previous fits were any indication. He turned to me, as if expecting that I had a solution, probably mislead by her earlier outburst. But I had no authority over her, as far as I was aware the only person she feared was… Looking at the Regent an idea sprung to mind: it was so absurd it might actually work.
"Sir, if I may, could you send the other Primogen out for a brief recess?" I whispered to him, so low that only he may hear it. "I think I might know how to get her out of this… impasse, but we need to be alone with her."
"Could you all please excuse us and Primogen Voerman for a second? In these conditions it is impossible for us to proceed, since we need her vote. If you would kindly step outside…"
Some of them were suspicious, but, in the end, the desire to avoid being caught in one of the Malkavian's legendary breakdowns prevailed, and they scurried outside. A part of me wanted to go with them and listen to their conversations, but my presence was required.
"If you want to get to her, you need to play her father," I whispered to Strauss once we were alone. Understandably, he looked at me as if I were the mad one. I had never noticed it before, but thinking about the giant portrait at the Asylum's office, he and Therese's father shared height, baldness and complexion (well, the Regent was thankfully quite less creepy), maybe it could work.
"I beg your pardon?" he whispered back.
"Trust me, speak to her as if she were a small child and you her very strict father, and order her out until she has composed herself, so that you can resume your meeting. I will go with her and see that she can come back for the voting."
He seemed a bit uncertain, but then put on his best stern face and complied.
"Therese Voerman, is this the way to act in public? What have I taught you? I am very disappointed in you, young lady!"
Therese had a tremor, but stopped the histrionics immediately, looking at him with wide eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear and hatred. It was a piteous sight. The Regent in turn stared between her and me, quite shocked.
"I am sorry, father, I am sorry! You know I live for you, unlike my sister!" she cried, kneeling at Strauss' feet and clinging to his trousers.
"Stand up!" he ordered sternly and she recoiled, as if expecting him to hit her, but then hesitantly complied. "Go to your room to reflect about your actions and do not come back until you have calmed yourself down! This attitude is unseemly for a lady!"
The Regent was quick to catch up, as always, although he seemed extremely disturbed, not that I could blame him...
"Yes, father, yes, I will!" she lovingly crooned, obediently heading for the door. I made to follow her, but he blocked my arm.
"Later I expect an explanation," he murmured and I nodded.
"Yes, sir."
I spent the following hour watching over Voerman in the antechamber. I could barely make out the discussion going on inside, from the occasional outburst here and there (mostly from MacKenna and the Gangrel, unsurprisingly) I knew they were discussing my suggestion, or better, Strauss'. I cursed the Malkavian's terrible timing: I had wanted nothing more than to hear every tiny detail of this debate, now that for once I had been granted access to the "control room". Still, leaving the "siblings" alone was out of the question, and so I played babysitter, soothing, calming and flattering both of them in turn until they snapped out from childhood and returned to the present world.
At long last, Primogen Voerman was back, in all of her snobby, supercilious glory, and we could rejoin the meeting. The dispute seemed to be dwindling, and stopped entirely as we made our entry and returned to our places.
"Primogen Voerman, while you were… indisposed, we have reached a tentative agreement on a proposal submitted by myself, but we still need to proceed with the final round of voting," Strauss explained, and I could detect a trace of uneasiness in his voice.
"What is it about?" she asked, with a strangely meek tone, eyeing the Regent in an even more peculiar way. I was sure she did not remember him playing her father, not on a conscious level at least, but what about the subconscious? Oh goodness, I hoped for Strauss and for my sake that it wasn't as I feared, otherwise he might, quite fairly, want my scalp.
"In order to protect the Camarilla from a scandal and ensure the order and the stability in LA, we will not call a Conclave, at least not instantly. Sebastian LaCroix will be presented with a choice: either willingly resigning from his position and leaving the State of California and the West Coast, never to return, or facing a trial and, consequently, capital punishment. Appropriate measures will be taken by myself to ensure that he will not be tempted to reclaim power, they have already been discussed in detail, if you would like to hear them…"
"It is not necessary, Regent, I understand that there is a degree of urgency. I have made my decision, and am ready to cast my vote. Of course, if you would be so gracious as to spare me some of your time later to elucidate the specifications, I would be most grateful."
There she was, once again articulate, collected, rational. Still, there was an undertone in her voice that was not there before, and that, coupled with the fact that she wanted a private word with Strauss, did not assuage my worries.
"Certainly. In this case, let us commence with the voting. Those in favour of my motion, please raise their right hand," Strauss asked, and if I knew him at all, he was quite nervous. Whether for the verdict or for having to comply with Voerman's request, I could not tell.
Slowly, Raoul raised his elegant, pianist hand, shortly followed by Therese. Cutteridge seemed torn, and the fact that he feared LaCroix's survival, suggested to me that the younger Ventrue may know many a dirty secret about him, which he might be ready to spill. Finally, he leisurely lifted a bony finger, indicating his assent: between a possible scandal and a certain one, he preferred the first.
Gary, always striving for originality, performed a military salute and I wondered how much the tape and this vote were going to cost Strauss. I ignored what kind of majority they needed for this decision, it was an unorthodox proceeding after all, but there were already five votes against two, if one counted the Regent.
At long last, MacKenna and Joseph gave their assents simultaneously, and the Regent relaxed visibly. We had won, for now at least, the meeting was over. Or so I thought.
"Who is going to deliver the news to LaCroix?" Raoul asked, and it was an excellent question. Nobody seemed anxious to do it, and they all looked at Strauss expectantly. His suggestion, his problem.
"Do not worry, I will take the necessary steps," he replied, and it was almost as if tension lifted from the room. Kindred were adept at the noble art of "pass the buck", and the Primogen had taken it to superior levels of expertise.
The gathering drew to a close, to be adjourned after LaCroix's decision. The Primogen took turns in saluting Strauss: he had the reins, at least for now, and they acknowledged it with the customary sycophancy that came with the role.
Raoul and Gary took their time to address me and invite me to pay them a visit in their respective abodes. I did not know what was on the Toreador's mind, although their friendliness usually was a way to garner favours and I preferred people who called things for what they were. Gary indubitably wished to remind me of my debt to Mitnick and harvest the fruits; fair enough, I would have been surprised of the contrary.
At last, only Voerman, Strauss and myself remained in the office.
"Regent, if I may," she entreated, and I could feel she was impatient to be alone with him.
"Yes, Primogen Voerman, I just need to confer with Ms Wilson here for a minute. If you excuse us, I will return in next to no time."
Not waiting for a reply, he started to walk out and I quickly followed, practically feeling Therese's eyes burning at the base of my neck.
He entered an unknown room, which turned out to be a small but posh secondary study and locked the door behind us.
"About Voerman," I started, expecting he wanted his explanation, and fearing the consequences, but he interrupted me with a raised hand.
"As much as the inner workings of a Malkavian psyche intrigue me, it will have to wait and it is not the reason why I have called you here."
"It isn't?" I asked, incredibly relieved, but it was short-lived.
"I need you to speak with LaCroix and convince him of choosing Saint Helena, to cite your allegory."
Blood froze in my veins as I prayed I had heard him wrong. My suggestion, my problem, even if Strauss had taken all the credit. What was he playing at? "Pass the buck" indeed!
"Max, with all due respect, I… he will never listen to me after last night. I mean, he never even listened to me before last night. It is…" I protested, but yet again he interjected.
"I cannot trust one of the other Primogen with this. It comes down to either you or myself, and, after considering it carefully, I have reached the conclusion that your chances of succeeding are considerably higher. Not in spite of, but as a consequence of yesterday's events."
"I am afraid I do not understand."
"My presence inhibited him and we cannot afford him to refuse in a recrudescence of pride. Furthermore, I believe that seeing you might psychologically destabilise him."
"I see," I replied, not really persuaded, but resigned that remonstrations were futile. I just hoped that it wasn't a way for him to take all the merits if I succeeded and put the blame on me if I failed. Still, his head was on the line too, so there was no choice for us but to win: if he felt he had a higher probability of success, he would have been insane not to do it himself.
"He is currently being held in the safest of places: the dungeon beneath the Chantry," he explained, and I had a feeling that I should really strive never to displease him.
"Go to my study, if someone tries to block you, show them this," he said, putting a pendant with the Tremere emblem in my hand. It glowed in an unnatural way, making my skin tingle. "When you are sure you are alone, put it on and press it to the fireplace. It will open up a passage; whatever happens do not, and I repeat do not take off the necklace. It will light the correct path and protect you from our… security measures. Do not, for any reason, wander off the lit passageway, otherwise I cannot ensure your safety."
It was an euphemism for: you will meet a certain and excruciating death. A powerful reminder of the reason why Tremere were so feared and ostracised among Kindred.
"Yes, Max."
"You need not to worry about torpor or sunlight: you will be in a protected area, and there is a cot where you can take your rest, should you need more time. LaCroix is being contained by special shackles, that consume some of his blood should he try to free himself or pull on them with some force. Since we need him alive, make sure he does not lose his mind."
"I will."
"When he is ready to give a full confession in front of a camera, call me with the apposite bell. Failure is not an option."
"I understand," I whispered, bowing.
Without further ado, he opened the door and we both went to our respective business. Yes, you could always count on things to get worse, and the fact that I almost envied him for having to deal with Voerman spoke volumes about my state of mind. But I was so close, so damn close to the end of the tunnel, and after this I would never have to deal with LaCroix again.
Just another step, Irene, just another step… Hoping it wouldn't be a faux pas.
* René Descartes claimed that he had three dreams while in Neuburg, which inspired him to pursue science as a way to wisdom and truth.
A/N: This chapter turned out to be incredibly long, just too many characters to introduce, things to say and do, even with a lot of problems purposefully left open for a later time. I really hope it isn't boring, but cutting it was impossible, in my opinion it would have disrupted the flow. I think you can imagine what next chapter will be about and I am really looking forward to writing it.
We are almost at the end of this crisis for the LA Camarilla, and now that the foundations are nearly done, I can really start building my story and let the plot unwind at a more rapid pace. So I hope you can bear with me. It will be a long ride, but I will do my best to make it a pleasant one.
Many, many thanks to sister-b, Olivia and Loving Companion Cube for reviewing the last chapter and giving me your reassurances, as always they really mean a lot and motivate me incredibly. My heartfelt thanks also to gavergun, Celeste and kizzy for your past reviews.
A big thank you to all the silent readers, I know you are there and am truly grateful for your support. I also know that some of you are following my story through alerts, I have been really tempted to send you a PM to thank you personally, but, having been a "lurker" myself for years, I did not want you to feel pressured. So I use this space to express my gratitude, I hope the story will continue to be enjoyable for you.
As always, criticism is welcome, and if anyone should decide to stop reading my story at some point, it would be incredibly helpful if you let me know the reasons why, so I can improve my writing for future times.
Last but not least, I do not want to sound like a broken record, but a very special thank you to Loving Companion Cube for all the help, while managing a very busy schedule and writing her masterpiece story, no less.