Jean's life as a vampire, in a nutshell, was a joke. Billy Rikker had made it seem so romantic when Jean's ex brought him before her Sire. Live forever, untold wealth, all the bitches, blah blah blah. What did he have to live for back then? Twenty-something and working full time as a valet, driving other people's fancy cars and getting a whole lot of nothing for pay. That wasn't a life! So he'd signed on the dotted line, bared his neck a few times, proved his loyalty in a few ways that had made his conscience shudder, but in the end he got let into the supernatural club.

He'd lost 20 pounds overnight, his acne cleared up, and he'd gained night vision with an all liquid diet.

And now he was only a Valet on Sundays. The rest of the week, he was a bouncer wearing a bow tie.

Bullshit night after bullshit night. Signing off on reservations for humans too rich to know what they were wearing was his Monday-thru-Saturday gig. In 30 years, he'd work off his "Apprenticeship" and get into the next level of Billy's clan. Where he'd be a waiter.

"Kaori, party of one," Jean said, glancing at the digital clock on the podium. It was ten minutes after the lone vamp's meeting with Quill was supposed to take place, but orders were orders and Quill said to have the lady wait so she could stew over the slight. Of course, she'd probably expected that and arrived late in the first place. Jean had spotted Kaori a few times at a Blood Moon party, but he'd given up trying to talk to her after realizing she was higher up on the Totem Pole. "Kaori, party of one."

Which was when the night got weirder. 

Tall, pale and blonde walked up and asked to see Billy by his underground name. 'Il Duce' was a throwback name. The Duke. Most vampire lords took regal names to reinforce their stature, and as code for the occasional outsider to let the clans know they were in the know. Mortal or supernatural, it was a way of separating the goats from the sheep. So Jean was prepared to make the guy an appointment for three weeks from now after the requisite security checks cleared.

Then tall, pale and blonde opened the bottle and Jean got a whiff of what he was selling.

On his first Blood Moon party, de Lacy had hosted all the clans for an old-world ball. Food, booze, blood and games. It was absolutely boring on every level, and Jean wanted nothing more than to go home and watch the Packers smoke the Lions on channel 2. So he'd used his talent for fading into the background to explore de Lacy's place. And when he caught the vampire Lord himself slinking into a back room with a few confidants, Jean thought he was absolutely toasted. But de Lacy was high as a kite on something. A lot of something. He waved Jean back, clearly thinking he was one of de Lacy's drones, and the two bodyguards with de Lacy didn't question their boss. de Lacy offered Jean a shot of something. Bourbon, Jean figured. 

Nope. Not bourbon. 

Ever since turning, Jean hadn't been able to get a buzz going from booze or grass. He even went over to coke to try and get something going on. none of it stirred him that much.

But this shit de Lacy served had him toasted, roasted, and loving life for a good two hours.

Jean never forgot the smell of that stuff. So tall, pale and blonde's flask immediately caught his attention.

"Of course, sir," Jean said, grinning like a cat. [i]Oh man, boss is going to kick me so high up the chain for this it ain't even funny![/i] "I'll see you to Il Duce's table immediately."

=====================================================================

[i]Oh man, Tony's going to kick me so high up the chain of command for this it ain't even funny![/i]

"No," Parry said, putting the flask back in his diaper bag as the Maitre'd started whispering into a microphone. "Tell Il Duce I'll meet him inside the front doors. On his turf, but not inside it. I know what I'm carrying and what it's worth."

The vamp blanched, stuttered into the microphone again, and received a curt reply.

"The Duke will see you inside the front doors."

Parry took a moment to smile, flashing a thumb's up behind his back where he figured the group would be watching, and waited until a figure in a black Tom Ford suit stepped into the front lobby of the Rusty Steak Knife, flanked by two brute force types looking like they weighed a good 300+ each. Impressive for vampires.

Without skipping a beat, the Celestial whistled as he walked through the front glass doors.

=====================================================================

Billy "The Duke" Rikker had arranged his evening perfectly. Word had come down from the Mummy that Kaori would be ready to talk with Quill, the sneaky asshole. Whether that was diplomacy or outright surrender by the city's top Rogue Vamp, the Almighty Bandaged One hadn't said. A bit busy playing lord of the city to share that detail, Billy supposed. That was fine with him. He could show Kaori whose clans were on the rise, and that she'd have a place at their table if she dropped the lone wolf act. She'd be serenaded and feasted like a true guest, Quill and Kaori would have their chat while Billy played gracious host to their conference, and then he'd drop the bomb on both of them: Ivan's vamps had already started stamping out the troublemakers on the East Side. Nemsemet had given a few targets to hit, and the go-ahead to start making human thralls to do the dirty work.

If Quill didn't already know about the attacks, Billy wouldn't tell him- let the rival parasite squirm over the fact that he wasn't involved. And if Quill was in the know, his clan being left out of the hits would be a sign the mummy lacked trust in his guild. The Billy and Ivan were Nemsemets new nobility. The shifters would be muscled down the ladder where they belonged in no time.

So Billy woke up at sundown, put on his best suit, looked at his thin-if-balding head of black hair, and decided not to wear his hairpiece for the evening. Let everyone snicker over his bald spot. He was already working his way up the chain of Nemsemet's favorites. After tonight, he'd be Number Two to a living god. Couldn't climb much higher than that!

East Side was crawling with junkies looking for a fix, and combine all that with his Soviet arsenal, Ivan had an army in no time. The gas explosion at a daycare and the fire started in the park were the two warning shots across the bow. The Fairie court in Central had been gassed with kerosene and half their knights mowed down with iron crossbow bolts from Billy's people. Ivan had taken care of the mage in the Daycare with good ol' Soviet efficiency.

Except, as he stood in his own front lobby, Billy was knocked on his heels as the Mage Parry Magnus walked into the front door of his own 5-Star establishment, grabbed a glass of claret from a passing waiter's tray, and raised it in a toast to Billy.

The scent kept him from ordering Left and Right from wasting Parry, though. It was an unmistakable stench. He'd smelled it on de Lacy the day the arrogant prick had come into his club, at high noon, dragged his boy outside, and toasted him in the street while Billy and his whole watched in impotent horror. That stunt had forced a dozen challenges to Billy's leadership. Not to mention the death of his boy.

"Pretty boy," Rikker said, grinding his teeth so his fangs showed. "You have ten seconds to talk before I have Left and Right smoke your ass like a log."

Parry blanched while looking at the other two vamps, his skin took on a paler look, and he cautiously reached into his bag (while Left and Right reached into their jackets) to remove the flask. The one that smelled exactly like de Lacy had the day Billy's son died. Whatever de Lacy did to walk in the daylight had something to do with that smell, Billy was sure of it. Being a vampire lord and walking in the daylight would put him one up on all the other sycophants in the Mummy's court.

"I come in peace," Parry said, taking a step back and holding out the bottle. "Wanted to trade for, ah, information."

"Oh you want info? Sure, I'll trade you info for what's in the bottle. Deal?"

Parry nodded vigorously and extended his arm with the metal flask. Right opened a fist the size of a ham and took it. 

[b]"The Mummy wants Tony, Karram, and Flint to swear allegiance to the New Order. Bring the last of their kind in line. He wants Viking-Xena to do the same, but he put a bounty on her head to be brought in alive. Casper he could care less about, but he wants her corpse for something- weighing her heart I think? Something to do with the Egyptian Underworld and figuring out her undeath. And you-" he pointed a ringed finger directly at Parry's chest "- he wants for giving Augustus a cheap necklace. And Nemsemet never said he wanted you [i]alive[/i]."[/b]*

Left and Right took this as their cue to pull a pair of silenced Glocks from their jackets.

"The mummy was right pissed you helped Augustus. So tell me, pretty boy wizard, would you like an open casket or a closed one?"

Parry dropped the bottle of Claret, clutched at his diaper bag, and took a single step back before Left and Right squeezed of two shots each into the mage's chest. He fell on his back, clawing his way to the revolving door, and Billy had to smile.

"Open. Just so Nemsemet can fuck up that face of yours, I guess."

Left and Right were both aiming for Parry's heart when the blood from their shots started to seep into the guy's jacket. And then, oh man, every vampire in the club stopped what they were doing, sniffing the air as that smell hit the air. The humans in sight of the front door screamed, started to panic.

And Billy had to yell [b][i]"SONOFABITCH!"[/i][/b] as he realized his men had just shot the goose that laid the golden egg.

*Subject to GM approval.