Give the Order

[Alex]

Lady Evelyn Courtenay heard the hard *clack* of her own heels as they pressed on the tile floor in a steady rhythm. ONE two ONE two ONE two. Like a metronome or the timing to a dance she had learned in her days among the living. She had no time for dancing anymore – and without Devon, there wasn’t much of a point to it. He had been the only thing that mattered to the Seneschal more than her vast holdings, and without him she simply didn’t see the point. Time was money, and time spent dancing was money lost. If she was going to lose out on money, it had to be something more important. And only one thing mattered more than money without Devon.

Revenge.

Even 50 years later, after thousands of nights, the thought of her fallen beloved still nearly moved her to Frenzy. Right there, in the tiled hall of the Astorian. In a less beautiful environment, she might have indulged herself a bit with nobody looking. A shattered vase, a hole in the wall. Some mess for the urchins to clean up. But the Astorian was a rare gem in these nights of garish, black spires and too-bright lights. Lady Courtenay had been open to the early modern aesthetic, but it had all given way to such banality by the 1950’s. So she held her temper back, lest she give the kine some reason to renovate this last respite of older, better times. And besides, she might need her anger this night.

Clack. Clack. Courtenay stopped. She was at a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. She quickly checked her appearance in the reflection of a glass table. Not a hair out of place. With that cursory glance, she opened the doors and stepped inside.

Immediately, six Kindred rose from their seats around a long table. Courtenay was late, entirely intentionally. She found making her lesser wait reminded them of who was really in charge, regardless of what fool held Praxis. And the fool who did was the first to approach. Magnus, dressed in a black suit and red tie, walked up to offer his hand. Evelyn simply walked past him. “Let’s spare the pleasantries,” she said. “We have little time and a great deal of business to cover.” Any excuse was a good one not to let the fat oaf lay a finger on her. The Prince turned without missing a beat, returning to the head of the table as Lady Evelyn took a seat to his right. The rest sat down after she had. To the Prince’s left was Roger Scott, a reminder to His Grace that he was surrounded. And down the line they went. On Evelyn’s side came Robin and Chesterfield. On Roger’s side sat Victor and Klein.

“With the Seneschal’s arrival,” Magnus said. “We can get started. Conrad?” Chesterfield reached under the table and pressed a button of some kind. The lights dimmed, and in the middle of the table a three-dimensional image of light appeared. The other Kindred stared with a mixture of shock and fear – the way older Vampires usually reacted to technology they couldn’t understand. But Courtenay simply looked at it – a floating model of the city of New Orleans. She didn’t care what gadgetry the young used, as long as it got her what she wanted.

“At your request, your Grace,” Conrad began. “After the…incident…in 2055, I have worked with the Sheriff and Mr. Wilcox to collect whatever information we have on the Anarchs.” Courtenay nodded – she was pleased. Everyone knew that this offensive hadn’t been the Prince’s inclination. She had demanded it after the Tremere insulted the memory of her beloved.

“And we’ve found the enchantress wench?” Courtenay hissed.

“As much as I’d like to for my own, personal reasons, I’m afraid not,” Conrad replied. “Unfortunately, the circumstances of her Embrace are unknown. I can only confirm it was a Tremere, and suspect it was the progeny of Sheldon Carter.” Evelyn gave him a harsh glare, which he did not react to. “Rest assured, my lady, that I am as uninterested in unauthorized Tremere running about as you are.”

“Then you found the others?” Courtenay retorted. “I should hope you’ve not gone to all this trouble to tell me what we cannot accomplish.”

“My lady,” Victor said, standing up. “We don’t know specifics, but we have actionable leads. Enough that we think we can make a push.” Despite his hideous visage, Victor brought her some comfort. She had found the Nosferatu to be an oddly trustworthy lot, and Victor even moreso than most. She was much more confident that her ally would not have bothered her for nothing.

“Well put, Sheriff,” Conrad picked up. “We’ve identified potential Anarch properties after going over decades of records, news, and other printed media and data. And we’ve identified a few areas of interest.” Conrad pointed to the model, and a few red dots appeared. He placed his finger on one, and an image of an older man appeared. “Obsidian Incorporated, which formerly hosted an executive known to have been the Ghoul of Henry Mitchell,” he said. “Rumors of Vivian Black in the Business District.” He pointed to another section of the model. “And there’s a substantial black market trade in bio-technology, illicit medicine, and other activities that could be associated with Tzimisce in the city.”

“Every city has a Black Market,” Klein said. But Courtenay silenced him with a look. She would not hear him ask about Gabriella Rosario again. A bounty had been placed on her. She didn’t matter.

“But our best lead, I think,” Conrad said. “Is this.” He pointed to another red dot, and a picture and other information came up. Lady Evelyn smiled.

“They really might as well have just announced it,” Robin said. Courtenay shot her a smile. She couldn’t read Robin. The Toreador was a cunning one – much more cunning than Evelyn had thought.

“So what are we hitting first?” Courtenay asked. She looked to Alderidge. This was the part where he was supposed to say something. He had fought so very hard to remain Prince.

“I spoke to Mr. Chesterfield beforehand,” Magnus said. “And he sees no reason we can’t hit them all. Robin has already been working on a media offensive, Conrad has prepared an offer for one of the local gang leaders, and Wilcox has some operations ready to go in West New Orleans.

“And the obvious target?” Courtenay said.

“I’ve got it,” Victor said. “All we have to do is say the word.”

Evelyn Courtenay smiled. She knew that this was only the start. That this war would be hard fought. But she also knew that her prize would be sweeter than the most rarified Blood. Not as sweet as her beloved, but he was gone. With revenge, she could finally put him behind her. And for once, the imbeciles around her seemed to have things in hand.

Magnus gave Courtenay a single look, and seeing no objection nodded. “Give the order,” Magnus said. “Begin the war for New Orleans.”