KILLER STRIKES AGAIN
Kurtz sat at the lone table in the center of the breakfast room, reading the
Tribune.
It was, as one would expect, tastefully and simply appointed. The walls were colored a rich cream, and contrasted nicely with the royal blue and gold of the carpets.
Armand emerged from a side door, a tray of coffee and breakfast meats balanced in one manicured hand. His employer was obscured behind the paper, his silhouette made visible by the bright sunlight streaming in from the large window behind him.
At first glance the silhouette did not look entirely human- suggestive rather of something equine, with traces of antlers above it. But when Kurtz put down the paper and greeted his manservant with a pleasant smile, his face was thoroughly normal.
"Armand, good morning."
"Good morning sir," replied the butler, placing his tray on the table.
"We're to have a busy day, my friend, busy busy busy."
"Oh?" asked Armand, "Last night was a success, I take it?"
"Yes. Very much so."
"What do you require, sir?"
Kurtz took a sip of his coffee and closed his eyes, savoring it.
"We need to track down several vampires, Armand. Rather powerful ones, unfortunately, but it's important we fulfill our end of the bargain."
"I shall contact Mssr. Garange, then, sir."
"No," said Kurtz with a sigh, "Not Garange, nor any of our usual contractors, I'm afraid. They work with too many others, and the Firm cannot risk appearing to have broken our customary neutrality."
"What do you suggest, sir?"
"We need a nobody- a back-alley warlock or voodunsi. Someone talented enough to read the augurs, but no one good enough to be used by the Nyctari or the Syndicate."
"I'll put the word out then, sir, along the appropriate channels.
Necromancer needed."
Silk threads and velvet curtains fell over slender arms, swathes of fabric pooling against pale skin and gathering into coils of rich expense and luxury. Decision laced tight across the void countenance of Maharet, pursing her lips as she debated over her wardrobe for the night, entertaining the notion of creating something from the bare-bone spools of fabrics she had waiting to be plucked from in her deep recess of a closet. Her taste was refined into elegance, of course, no less could be found among the lady's domicile and preference and the company she received every night witnessed her constant interchanges of fashion and beauty. She'd be accepting her hirelings and a long withstanding friend that had bequeathed her many favours, always paid in bodies, pleasures, or whichever was his current desire, but the relationship was entirely business and beneficial to the both of them. Maman might scold her for allowing herself to be so deeply intertwined with another individual, a man no less, but the Lady in Red had taken to lacing her name and influence into the city to reflect the empire she had awaiting her back in France, Italy and Spain. She missed the splendors across the seas and sighed wistfully as she plucked a loose sheaf of a dress from her wardrobe, like an oil slick it glimmered, sliding over the bend of her wrist as she settled it over the back of a chaise piled high in thick pillows and various spins of silken drapes and fur-lined throws.
She insisted on appearing in her near best, for no one had ever viewed Maharet in lesser beauty or glamour, and she knew that Kurtz always appreciated her efforts to receive him - even if she had summoned him like some commonly thwarted lackey, she assumed her down payment was enough to whet his particular appetite. She laughed quietly at that notion and immediately slid into her dress for the evening, slender nails and gestures palmed over ebony-clad hips, spending the fabric against her frame in a slick appearance as one of the thin straps fell from one of her thin shoulders. Elegant and embellished in a purposeful flaw, Maharet settled to preening her threads of red hair and piling the curls over her spine, letting the threads fall into artful disarray before a soft knock broke the peaceful assemblage of her sprucing.
"Yes," she called through the space, voice purring into her inquiry as she admired herself through twists and turns, dipping her spine to view the entire dress that fit to her frame in near perfection.
"We received a call from the.. representative of Mr. Kurtz. Armand?" It was a small mouse of a voice that spoke to her, probably one of her newly sworn in thralls, she could practically taste the perfume of nervousness that flamed through the threshold, blooming wide on her pallet as she parted her lips, inhaling the girl's scent. She was of innocence, an obvious sweetness that had yet been dipped into, a rare little thing. Maharet hummed, sealing her lips into a grin.
"Ah yes, what did he have to say, little lamb?""He said he'll be over tonight to discuss terms and details with you, and to thank you for the... meal?"
Maharet laughed, a gay little tune that shimmered into a wonderful bought of laughter as she clapped her hands together.
"Marvelous, he's such a charmer, wouldn't you agree? When he arrives, send him to me my little lamb, oh and send up a few girls from the Rouge, I'm sure he'll be hungry too when he arrives." -
Kurtz gave the thrall who greeted him at the Rouge's discrete entrance a pleasant smile, and followed her into the incense-tinged halls of Maharet's lair. His bright eyes glittered in the sanctuary's crimson haze; the vassals who crossed his path shrank back instinctively from his alien presence, a chilly psychic void so different from the smothering, sensuous, omnipresent Power of their master.
The thrall made some timid gesture at a half open door, where human and vampires alike awaited, sprawled in various states of undress across cushions and couches.
"She is very generous," said Kurtz, "But business before pleasure. And, as you'll learn, your master's generosity is far more dangerous than her wrath. Take me to her."
The thrall led him deeper into the house of sin and pleasure, where the paintings and furnishings grew increasingly lascivious and strange. A mural of a lone woman before a darkened cave, torch held aloft, mouth open in horror at whatever she sees within. A brazen statue on an end table, depicting an ancient queen seated on a throne held aloft by screaming men.
"Through there," said the thrall, nodding at a doorway at the end of the hall.
"Thank you, dear," said Kurtz, straightening his tie, and brushing invisible dust from the sleeve of his jacket. Smiling, he pushed passed his guide and entered the sanctum of the beast.
"Maharet," he said, "A pleasure."
"Bienvenue, mon amour." Maharet whispered, busily admiring one of her many treasures: a macabre piece illustrating a sculpture of a woman ravaged and twisted by her malicious lover festooned with fur and antlers, his face a skull of a terrifying creature gaped wide to devour her whole - body and soul lost to his throes.
"Lovely, isn't it?" She presented the furnishing of her art before setting it aside one a table of polished ebony that gleamed, suspiciously, with a scarlet sheen that was purposely stained into the woodwork.
Carefully studying him as she put the work aside, Maharet often pondered on who, and what, Kurtz exactly was. For the man hardly felt inclined to express himself personally, he was professionalism swathed in a barrier of mystery and tangible tastes, and her vast knowledge probed various hypothesizes about his nature. However, nothing inclined her to the truth of his origins or those who employed him, leaving her fixated on his usual state of self and pleasures. She wanted to break him, mold him almost, burn away the exterior to reveal to her the interior of himself that, she hedged, tasted unique. Her predatory gaze sharpened, honing into steelish pools, she felt the pooling of light into her gaze, amplifying Kurt'z attire and impression before she exhaled, deadened tissue of lungs flattening to blackened sacs and retracting her stare.
"I thank you for your prompt visit, I trust my messenger was satisfactory, by what your own message detailed." She began, lounging over the plush luxury of her bench stationed before one of her chaises. Pale legs slid over one another, bare feet adorned in jewels of glimmering garnet that were cinched tight around thin ankles winked in dim light and she gestured elegantly for him to sit himself.
"Down to business, I know you must be curious to taste some of my latest editions. They're quite eager to please." Maharet purred, a small smile gracing her features, suggesting the barest gleam of her particular fangs as she awaited for Kurtz to adjust himself properly.
"You've helped me in the past, and I'm beyond grateful and pleased with all your deliveries." She praised lightly, coating her voice in mild suggestion.
"However I must request your services once more, and so soon since we last saw one another. Which, I trust my painting will arrive soon? I cannot wait to put it with my collection." Maharet proudly heralded her private pieces adorned into the parlour, each beholding a story within the strokes, various mediums depicting controversial works by artists deemed manic and demented by their minds plagued with creative vision.
"But, that's another matter. What I need from you, mon cher, is to locate a few.. particular vampires of interest.""The Firm does not usually take sides in...internecine conflicts between potential clients," said Kurtz, steepling his fingers, "Particularly between vampires of quite substantial power. However...in this instance, given recent events, we may be able to help each other, Maharet."
Kurtz leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, green eyes meeting the vampire's intoxicating stare.
"It so happens that the price of the Firm's aid in dealing with your wayward kin is also very much in your interest. I am only authorized to propose this to you thanks to your reputation for taste and discretion, two attributes valued very highly indeed by my employers. Sadly, not everyone in this city shares your admirable virtues."
Kurtz paused, drumming his fingers together and frowning. "Did you know Santa Somabra is importing nearly as much demon blood as the next three major cities in this country combined? The same, or nearly the same, is true for the other occult narcotics popular these days, not to mention the cursed weaponry, the cheap amulets and charms. All of this is beginning to attract attention to Santa Somabra. Attention from the FBI's Arcane Bureau, from corporate interests displeased by the unregulated and untaxed arcane economy here, and... from the agents of the Holy Office in Rome. This sort of attention...we do not need. It can too easily turn from the criminal element here to my Firm's operations. Or for that matter, to the Rouge. The Martovanni cartel could be managed, influenced, even punished when it stepped out of bounds. The Bloodbloom Syndicate...commands considerably more resources, and its leader is a uniquely gifted operator. Ambitious and cannier than she appears. My employers propose an alliance between our organizations, to teach the lower orders their rightful place, and reduce the risk of unwanted attention from the FBI and the Vatican."
Kurtz leaned back in his chair, head tilted to one side. "You can count on the Firm to help you consolidate power over the lesser vampires, if you help us to rid Santa Somabra of Nyxvira Bloodbloom."
[collab with
@Rockette]
