It was a still, cold night. Streetlights and skyscrapers reflected in the bay, creating the illusion of a vast underwater city. High up, in prime oceanfront real-estate, hundreds of feet from the ground, stood a diminutive, pale woman, in a cream colored silk dress, admiring the view.
"It really is something," she said. Her voice resonated in the room. She brushed a strand of her dark brown hair back behind her shoulder, still unaccustomed to the shorter modern length. After a brief pause, her dark eyes narrowed and she turned to look at her companion.
"Stop sulking," she said. "You've been at it all day. It irritates me."
Her companion was leaning against a large mahogany desk, staring down at the floor. She was a direct contrast to the delicate lady at the window. Tall, blonde, strong. Powerful, lean muscles flexed with every movement as she stood up straighter and smoothed her frown into a carefully blank expression.
"I am sorry, Gabrielle," she said. "Forgive me."
Gabrielle's mouth quirked into a smile.
"That's better, dear." Her dark eyes fixed on those pale grey-blues. Her companion had eyes like cloudy skies at noon, and lately she couldn't read them. "You need to relax, Childe. We won this round." She turned back to the window. "But I suppose it is your nature to brood and worry," she chided. "It is that cold Northern heritage, ever focused on the coming winter. You need to learn that sometimes life is lush. Ripe. Like this city, full of possibilities." Her eyes shot to her companion, who still stood at attention, expression blank. "Now cut it out, Aska. We must prepare for a party."
"Yes, Gabrielle," came the toneless reply.
--- o ---
The music hall glittered with delicate lights. The bright red upholstery on the rows of seats, the elaborately carved golden balustrades, dark crimson carpets, and heavy stage curtains, all added to the feeling of opulence. Aska stood a measured step behind and to the side of her Mistress.
She took in everything, without appearing to look around. She was acutely aware of how closely the other kindred mingled as they danced through their calculated greetings. Sanctuary or not, she was wary.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with black hair and warm eyes emerged from the crowd. His suit was impeccably tailored, hailing from his native Italy, though he still called it Rome. Charming. Lively. Fake.
"Gabi! Oh, you heavenly creature," he exclaimed as he took her hands and kissed her cheeks. Aska ached to put her body between them, to secure some distance, but to lay hands on the Prince would be suicide. Her hands twitched for a moment, but no other muscles moved.
"My Prince," Gabrielle responded, appropriately demure. She awaited his intention with perfect poise. He was singling her out, with an open display of favor, and she was a gracious victor. As he led her on his arm, it was all Aska could do to stay still. As she watched them proceed through various introductions, one might never have suspected the bloodshed in the preceding days. This was all too perfectly civilized.
Aska kept her eyes on the crowd as Gabrielle spoke with each Elder in turn. A prickling cold tickled her senses, and she realized someone was hiding behind her. She almost lost her expressionless mask, and could not hide the smile in her voice.
"Manon," she whispered under her breath, "I didn't realize they let just anyone in."
A soft chuckle broke the cloak and man emerged from the shadows. Even now, the deformities of his face, as if it was made of melted wax, gave her pause. The nearby vampires floated away, too polite to avoid the Nosferatu overtly, but reluctant to be seen in his company.
"I may be ugly, but I am still the clan leader," he said. His voice was gruff and raspy, but it held a hint of amusement. Unlike the Prince's polished charm, this warmth was genuine. "I am practically required to be here."
"Practically?" Aska asked.
"They make allowances," he added, "though I think it is more for their sense of aesthetic than consideration for my timetable."
"It is Gabrielle's big night. You should be here. This is your victory, too."
Manon grimaced. "Victories are for politicians. Spies know better."
"So do warriors," said Aska. Their eyes met.
"Let her enjoy this moment, young one," he said. "She knows the game better than any of us. If she is content, we are as safe as we ever will be in this life." He turned to pay his respects to the Prince. Aska resumed her watch over her Mistress and the bloodthirsty creatures surrounding her. These were their new friends and allies. These were their new enemies. Some would be both. Aska took a deep breath as Gabrielle circled the crowd one last time. They had won, for now, but these were merely the opening rounds. A grand display before the real contest.
Oh well, she thought. Let the games begin.
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