Celeste: She still has computer problems, so despite what I said last chapter, I'll publish an uncorrected one. Perhaps it has some advantages. Now you'll see what great work Vivienne is doing, hehe. So more Imalia/Kat bitchin' ahead!
Thanks Topgallant (I know, those chapters are rather boring, but it's all development the story needs) and rednighmare (If Kat's going to dance into The Last Round, shoots Kent-Alan, I think she'll be sent back to LaCroix in an urn) for the reviews!
As usual things weren't going to turn out easy. It felt like an awkward RPG game where you had to run from location A to B, occasionally to C, to fulfill a mission. Katherine had to crawl with Imalia in tow through the vents of the building to reach Milton's apartment without demolishing the door. At least Imalia really worked for her money, appearing in front of the guard so that Katherine was able to knock him out from behind. Later nobody would believe that a monster had scared the shit out of him and made him pass out. He would be the laughing stock of the security. Anyway the paper chase after Muddy continued, after they found another message on an answering machine they went to a warehouse near The Last Round, and Imalia started her next barrage of hate against Tawni Sessions until they got out of the building and back on the streets where she had to keep silent so that the obfuscation didn't lift. Oh well, she'd considered only walking in areas where a lot of humans were so that Imalia needed to keep her ugly mouth shut. As soon as they reached The Last Round Katherine began to search for a suitable warehouse across the bar. It was found quite easily but upon opening the door, both vampires were set on alert. The smell of blood was overwhelming and reminded Katherine of some unpleasant remembrances about her last visit home.
Low pitched mechanical clicking indicated that she'd unsecured her gun, an old routine in such a situation, with Imalia shortly appearing and giving a nod and then swiftly disappearing into the corner of the floor, showing off her smooth and nearly catlike motions worthy of the star Imalia had once been in her mortal days. A beauty beneath the ugly appearance and bitchy temper. Katherine followed, not quite as elegant as Imalia and also less quiet than the Nosferatu. Her heels produced an eerie sound which echoed against the sparse grey walls and upon gaining sight into the warehouse, her lips thinned to a slim line. The torn body of a kine hung from a steel beam, which had entered his back and stuck out through his ripped chest. Blood dripped with fast frequency out of the wound to the ground, producing a rhythmic staccato with the other blood rivers originating from his headless neck. The next thing she spotted was a bum who cowered next to a box, teeth chattering and eyes widened in horror, focused on the torn corpse.
"Hey you!" The gun pointed at the horrified man. Better safe than sorry but Katherine didn't get a response from the startled human, and she realised that he was no danger. Stepping further into the hall of this bloody mess and avoiding stepping into blood stains or a blood puddle, she inspected the corpse a bit further. It seemed like the man was ripped apart by animal claws. Just like the man in the picture of the L.A. Sun.
"D-d-did you see that?" the bum finally whispered, his voice sounding ghostly and threatening to faint. It was out of the question that he was the culprit.
"That bloody mess? It's kind of hard to miss." Surprisingly her voice was calm, nearly cold. Well it was not a nice view indeed and she spotted now the head between some other boxes, but that was how things go. Katherine had accepted this some time ago and she was more concerned that this could be a huge Masquerade violation.
"He done tore him up. Right in two. Ripped him 'part like a rag doll." Okay, that really sounded like a violation.
"What have you seen, old man?" Seemed like she was cursed to stumble upon more complications even during a simple search for a kine.
"These two guys – the dead guy and the other'n – uh, they showed up. I been living here so I hid, I thought maybe they was owners or... or cops come to clean the place out." He caught and huffed, still his limbs were trembling as he reached for a bottle of cheap booze. "Uh, they was waitin' on someone. They was gonna do some kind of job they was sayin'. But the person they was meetin', well he was late, so the one guy leaves to find a phone and call him – the dead feller called him Muddy – and the dead guy stayed. Well, that's when the killer... yeah, that's when he showed up." The bum took a deep sip from the bottle and spilled some over his dirty beard and stinking clothes. Katherine wrinkled her nose in refusal. "Oh, that killer, he grew these claws... I swear it, I saw it. The dead guy went white, like he seen the devil, then the killer grabbed him around the neck an' lifted him up and started cursin' at the guy." Oh shit. A big juicy Masquerade violation and she was a Ventrue. It was her duty to cover up this mess.
"Sorry old man, but you've seen too much." The gun pointed again at the bum who stared at her in disbelief, his jaw opening and closing like a suffocating fish lying in the sand of the coast. It was the only secure way to make sure he wouldn't talk to anyone else about what he had seen. "I'm really sorry. Farewell." Indeed she was, however, there were rules to obey, rules to enforce. LaCroix taught her that clan Ventrue had to make those sacrifices to protect the Kindred's existence. The echo of the shot was nearly deafening, as the bottle of booze slipped out of the dead bum's heads and rolled away from him, leaving its contents on the ground.
"Shit! You just...damn! You just killed that guy without a blink! Why?" Jumping out of her obfuscate, Imalia looked first to the dead bum with the hole in his head and then to Katherine. The Nosferatu's expression was rather aghast.
"As I said: he saw too much. It would be risky to let him run around, even if he's a drunken homeless. That poor man is better off this way anyway." Living with the image of a human being torn apart was something no one should have to do, like her father did. She left Imalia standing at the spot, her deformed face showing pity for the dead human, while Katherine inspected the surroundings.
"No one would have believed him! You didn't need to shoot him!" Imalia turned around in anger and glared at the Ventrue.
"If you want to blame someone, blame the fucked up monster that did it!" Enough is enough and it was not something Katherine enjoyed; besides she never thought that Imalia would be so affected by this. Talk about rough shell and soft insides. "At least he had a fast death, not like that poor bastard up there." Giving a nod to the blood dripping corpse, Katherine sighed, raised her gun again and fired some bullets into the wall, next to the dead bum. Then she walked to another spot and repeated the action up to three times until the magazine was empty.
"What was that for?" Watching what the Ventrue did, the Nosferatu sounded calmer again. Seemed like Imalia wasn't the type to admit that someone else was right.
"It would be suspicious if a man with a bullet in his head is lying next to a slaughtered body. The police will immediately know that this was someone else, so I want to give them the appearance of an accident, like the people in here tried to defend themselves and accidentally shot the bum." A very stupid plan to distract the police, however better than not trying.
"Sounds logical." The words sounded dry as if Imalia tried to ignore their arguing.
"But I need to report this to the Prince immediately, after we find a clue for where Muddy fled to." Katherine reloaded her gun and holstered it again, before continuing searching but that was interrupted by Imalia, who held a key in front of her nose.
"Hollywood. Just where we need to go, but..." The key vanished from Katherine's sight and was put into the Nosferatu's cleavage. "...Don't try to run away after you report to LaCroix. I have the clue, you don't."
"Hey, I didn't want to do that. We're a coterie, remember? It was your idea and coterie members don't betray each other. You'll get the money." It was spoken with a bit of a scoff, but why should she stay polite when Imalia was just bitching all the time?
"Yeah, yeah...you're the Ventrue, not I." Oh bad excuse! Who sold the information about the sarcophagus to the Giovanni and made Katherine go on an epic search for that fucking thing? Right: Nosferatu.
"Oh come on! You're the information dealer who sells everything for money without the slightest sense of loyalty, so don't lecture me about betrayal. I stand to my word, I'm Ventrue after all." Holy mother of Christ! She was sounding like LaCroix. It was creepy, and pretty scary. "If we want to work together, we need at least some basic trust." Imalia raised an eyebrow, looking suspicious and snorted. Well, it was not like some sort of trusting the other one blindly, just minor basics. Of course they both would both stay on alert. "Keep the key if you like. Fine with me. Let's get out of here and to the tower." Hopefully no one had spotted her or such, so she tried to sneak out of the warehouse, not daring to light a cigarette before reaching the more crowded streets, avoiding the dark alleys and only walking at the main street to the Venture Tower.
Inhaling the last bit of the smoke, Katherine threw the cigarette butt into the ashtray which stood in front of the ivory tower. No smoking in the lobby! The things with the non-smoker areas in the States were much stricter than in Germany. It's a bit of an irony; the food was probably unhealthier than a stupid cigarette. Chunk was a great example of that.
"Evening Chunk. I want to speak with Mr. LaCroix." It was almost said in a bored tone with no smile for the blue blob.
"Well, Mifter LaCroif haf a gueft rightf now." Chunk had his mouth full with a space burger and while he spoke, some crumbs of the burger bread flew onto the desk.
"I'll wait outside until they are finished, just announce then." Chunk nodded and swept his mouth clean with a tissue, before he pressed the button. A rather annoyed "Yes?" was heard out of the speaker. "Miss Falkner wants to speak you, sir."
"I have no time for this. I'm busy right now. Send her away." There was silence for some seconds, where Katherine had not enough time to be pissed about the denial for audience. "Send her up immediately." Now Chunk and Katherine stared at each other, both in surprise and confusion and Katherine considered that this was the interference of his guest, but why?
"Who's that guest he has right now?" Most likely one of the Primogen.
"Ahh, his name was Jan Pieterzoon. Fine looking guy, just like Mr. LaCroix. They must have a business meeting I guess." Giggling dirtily, Chunk grabbed himself a fry and stuffed it into his mouth. Yes that old joke. Chunk told her once that he thought LaCroix is a bit 'different'.
"Just send me up." Must be because LaCroix is French, however it offended Katherine like it was a personal insult and she knew too well what the reason was. So she needed to stomp her rising anger towards Chunk down during the elevator ride, reminding herself that it was a bad idea to show emotions in front of the Prince. He would exploit them somehow, making her unlife kind of complicated. Something she didn't want to happen anymore.
On the way to the office Katherine encountered Cecilia, but surprisingly the princess ignored her, just walking past the Prince's protégé without one of her usual awfully cheerful smiles but it didn't bother her. Finally Cecilia had perhaps learned that this over-friendly attitude wouldn't bring her far in the society of Kindred, which was sad but true.
"I know why you don't like me." Raising an eyebrow Katherine turned around to Cecilia, who stared at the ground, hands clenching the expensive dress. "At first I didn't want to believe it but as I saw you and Sebastian after that Sabbat thing I couldn't ignore it anymore." Oh, she saw it. Well, explained why she barged in. Strangely Katherine did not feel any anger. It was replaced by cold calculations to explain the obvious in a nicely packed manner. The last thing Katherine needed was a damn drama and she certainly had better things to do than fight to win over a man she was unable to reach.
"So what?" Again she sounded bored, like it was not worth it to mention it. "I'm busy and the Prince granted me audience. It wouldn't be wise to make him wait." Unlike some other Ventrue, she didn't sit around the whole night in an ivory tower.
"I won't just sit and watch while you steal Sebastian away from me." Now Cecilia finally lifted her head to look at Katherine directly.
"Don't be silly. Relationship drama isn't something for a Ventrue to waste time on. It was only a token of gratitude, because he didn't order the Sheriff to chop my head off." Wow, she said it in a tone that nearly convinced herself of its sincerity. "So, if you'll excuse me, Miss Kingston." Giving her a sloppy curtsy, Katherine turned around to make her way to the office and make LaCroix not wait any longer.
"You're lying and you won't get me with that, Katherine! I still want us to be friends but that will be not the case if you lay your hands on Sebastian!" The thread of the words missed their aim. What a waste of time! Katherine knew where her limits were and LaCroix was simply off limits but it would be way too time consuming to explain that to Cecilia, besides she still didn't want to make friends with her. There were only two kinds of people: Useful and not useful. Cecilia was the latter one, and even as childe of the Prince, Katherine saw no value in her.
Entering the Prince's office she spotted first the guest, who was inspected with curious eyes. He had spiky flaxen hair which suited his deep blue eyes and was way taller than LaCroix who stood next to him. An archetype of Scandinavian stock, so to speak and an impressive sight in combination with the probably expensive suit which rivalled without effort the one LaCroix was wearing. In an instant, Katherine felt shabby and totally out of place. This time, she did not bow down in a sloppy manner and acted as the Decorum demanded, keeping a respectful distance from the two Kindred who stood near the fireplace.
"I thank you for granting me audience my Lord Prince." It was her who spoke first, not him. Else he would have lowered himself to her level and that was certainly a loss of dignity in the eyes of his guest.
"Mr. Pieterzoon, this is Miss Katherine Falkner of clan Ventrue, childe of ---" LaCroix paused, like he was thinking about something or as if the name Alexander would produce a bitter taste in his mouth. At last this was the signal that she was allowed to raise her head and look at them both directly. It was considered rude not to look an elder of the clan directly in the eyes. It was a sign of trust that they wouldn't dominate you. In regards of LaCroix it was a damn joke.
"Yes, I'm informed about the circumstances of her Embrace. Jan Pieterzoon of clan Ventrue, childe of Hardestadt." A not so deep bow was hinted. "You have met Beckett, is that correct?" A question Katherine really had not expected. Is that the reason why Pieterzoon prevented LaCroix from sending her away?
"Yes, I did, sir." Why lie, and of course the Prince probably told him that already anyway, but then again she was ignored.
"I thank you for the audience, Prince LaCroix and will leave now to investigate further on the whereabouts of Beckett." The last tribute of respect was of course reserved for the Prince but despite that, she still observed Pieterzoon as he left the office, only LaCroix's voice dragged her attention back to her initial reason for being here.
"I assume that your fast return is because of the fulfillment of your task." Walking slowly to his desk, LaCroix sat down on the chair and joined his fingertips as he always did when he listened carefully. Katherine followed a few steps but maintained a respectful distance.
"I'm still working on it, sir." A blond eyebrow was raised, however that annoyed reaction was at least something she expected.
"So, why are you then wasting my time, interrupting a meeting with an important Kindred?" Sure, Katherine was now even more curious as to who this Jan Pieterzoon was and why he was searching for Beckett. This was quite the piece of information Imalia would lick her fingers for.
"I encountered a grave Masquerade violation in a warehouse near The Last Round and ask for further instructions on how to deal with it, sir. The murderer everyone in the city is talking about seems to be a Kindred of clan Gangrel. I dealt with the only witness in appropriate manner but you ordered me to report any activities of mine which involve Kindred." So that she wouldn't cross his plans again of course. So he should not bitch about it and LaCroix was silent for a second, thinking again about it, but showed no further emotion rather than being annoyed by it like he would a fly harassing him.
"I give you permission to deal with Masquerade violations without needing to inform me of such rudimentary events. In this city it seems like every night the Masquerade is violated." It was an Anarch Free State, so they produced on purpose walking Masquerade violations just to annoy the Prince. LaCroix leaned back and gazed upon Katherine's frame. "As a sign of my goodwill and for your good behaviour, I will tell you that Mr. Ryan was responsible for finding out if the Southland Slasher is of supernatural origin." He snickered a bit amused and stood up, circling around his desk and Katherine noted that he made quite a habit out of it, but it seemed more like a nervous action. Perhaps just her imagination.
"Thank you my Prince." It was more random luck. How in all heavens should she have known what the Toreador's assignment was? Well, even a blind chicken can find a grain. At least she now had permission to hunt Muddy and the Gangrel who seemed to be connected in some way. "I have no further requests to make, my Prince." Hopefully Imalia didn't run off with her only clue and if she had done that, the Nosferatu would deal with a pissed Primogen and perhaps a pissed Prince.
"You may leave, but..." Slowly stepping towards her, LaCroix's gaze was still locked on Katherine, who stood bravely firm even as she felt his closeness. 'He just wants to manipulate you. That bastard knows what you feel and he exploits it. Remember that lady!' "...I want to remind you not to disappoint me ever again. Is that clear?" What now came made her need all of her self-control not to start babbling or stuttering like a mindless retard. He touched her neck and brushed his thumb slowly over her cheek in a nearly gentle manner. 'Manipulating! He manipulates you! It's a damn trap!'
"Crystal clear, sir." It took great effort to say those words and not crumble under the intense staring of his cold grey eyes. Why was he addressing it again? She did all he demanded and executed the orders like he wanted! It felt like some kind of punishment for whatever wrong thing she had now done.
"You're smoking. A shame." Letting her out of his cold touch, LaCroix took his place behind his desk and pressed the button for the intercom, to give Chunk the green light that he could send in the next visitor if there was one. Whatever he wanted to achieve with his actions was past Katherine's imagination but one thing was certain: if his aim was to confuse her, he was successful and the first action of hers, as she stepped out of the tower into the streets of Los Angeles, was to light a cigarette.
AN: And I proudly present you Jan Pieterzoon, a protagonist of the Clan Novel Series! His Sire Hardestad the Younger imposes as Hardestad the Elder, a legendary founder of the Camarilla who was diablerized by the Brujah Anarch Tyler. To cover that up, Hardestad the Younger slipped into the role of his sire but Beckett got wind of it and now Hardestad wants to silence him.