[center][i]“goule”: Goules. Goul, or ghul in Arabic, signifies any terrifying object, which deprives people of the use of their senses. Hence it became the appellative of that species of monsters which was supposed to haunt forests, cemeteries, and other lonely places; and believed not only to tear in pieces the living, but to dig up and devour the dead [/i]
A New Dictionary of the English Language, 1832[/center]

The office was small, a cozy, book-lined room dimly lit and tastefully appointed. The arched windows gave a panoramic view of the Financial District, the skyscrapers blazing in the gathering dusk. Behind the grand mahogany desk hung a large renaissance piece depicting the titan Cronus devouring his son. Beneath the painting, perched comfortably in a leather arm chair and wearing a crimson smoking jacket of exquisite silk and velvet, Kurtz was reading. The book was thick, bound in crumbling letter, and the words on the cover written in a language no longer spoken.

A discrete knock on the door. Armand stepped in.

"Yes?" asked Kurtz, removing his spectacles and setting his tome down on the desk.

"A representative of Lady Maharet to see you, sir."

Kurtz raised an eyebrow and stood, removing his smoking jacket and slipping into his blazer. 

"More vampires." he said with slight sigh, "Send them in, Armand."

The vampire was no Nyte King, at least. Handsome, well (if rather archaically) dressed in blacks and reds, he carried himself in the superior, louche manner that marked out all of the Lady's playthings and puppets.

"Welcome," said Kurtz, flashing his wide, white smile and gesturing for his guest to sit, "Always a pleasure to entertain associates of our friend the Lady Maharet."

"You're brave, to speak her name like an equal," said the vampire, pausing to give Kurtz an appraising gaze. "You're a curious one, aren't you? Don't smell quite human to me...I wonder what you'd taste like."

Kurtz sat behind his desk, hands steepled in front of him. His smile shrank into a smirk, but he did not reply. The room was silent for a long moment before the vampire spoke again.

"My Lady requests the [i]pleasure[/i] of your company, she has some business to discuss."

"My colleagues in Romania are working on acquiring the Bellini portrait, which I am informed can be shipped here within the year. The price," said Kurtz, "...is still not up for negotiation."

The vampire chuckled, "No, no, this isn't about her art collection. My Lady thinks you can be useful to us in another way."

"What could be beyond her vassals and thralls?"

"She wishes to tell you in person."

"I will go see her, then." said Kurtz, "She clearly means business, to offer such a delicious retainer for the job."

The vampire look puzzled, "Retainer? She has not offered any payment yet."

Kurtz laughed, loud and disconcerting, and the vampire shrank back as he noticed Kurtz begin to [i]change[/i]. "You clearly don't know your Master like she knows me. You're the down payment."

-

When Armand entered the office an hour later, he found his employer sitting cross-legged on the carpet, sucking the marrow from a bone and grinning. The room, like Kurtz himself, was spattered with blood, viscera, and splinters of bone. Intestines coiled over the desk and furniture like grotesque streamers, and the ragged remains of the vampire's suit lay piled in the corner, with a fanged skull sitting on top like a paper weight, picked clean of flesh.

"Armand," said Kurtz, standing. His clothing was torn and soaked in blood, his face scratched badly down the middle. Neither he nor Armand seemed to mind or even notice. "Call the Rouge, let them know I'll be over tonight to discuss details and terms. And tell them to thank Maharet for the meal."

"Of course sir."

"Then have my office cleaned up."