The Vampire's Ball

Late on the night of their visit to the Everleigh Club, after investigating and wrestling with what they'd discovered the Coterie went their separate ways, retiring to their Haven's for the remainder of the night. There waiting for them at each of their Havens laid a wax sealed envelope of thick, expensive paper. The credit main seal upon the letter bore the sign of a thorned rose; it's only outward adornment. Upon breaking the seal the envelope unfolds to reveal the following message in a flowing script written in a dark red ink that bears the unmistakable scent of human blood:

Kindred of Chicagoland,
The time has come once again to celebrate the foundation of the institutions that shield our society from the terrors that would beset us. For fifty four years now we have marked the end of the Red War and the overthrow of the Magi who would enslave us by casting laughter into the night, reforge the alliances old and new which founded and maintain us and reaping our just reward for the blood that was shed; the fulfillment of our purpose. The Sages, who in their wisdom watch the stars and designate the time for all such occasions, tell us that the time to celebrate, the time of the Ashen Ball is at hand.

And so it is that we bid you come, be welcome in our home on the night of July 4 so that we may, as a society United in purpose and blood, reforge the old friendships that were formed first in war so that we may not forget the cost of lacking leadership and be reminded of the shared benefits we all now enjoy.

As is our custom, Kindred of all Generation and rank shall meet and forge new bonds of friendship. To that end, it is also our custom that any Neonate who has not attended an Ashen Ball before should present a gift to lay before our person as a token of submission and sign of how the Neonate feels they may serve best the needs and ambitions of the Camarilla. As your host, we will provide nourishment to suit any appetite and ensure the safety of all who attend. To this end, for the duration of the evening the Temple is to be treated as Elysium, with all the rights and penalties that go along with it.

By the will of the Inner Circle,

Prince Bianca

Nina stormed into the whore’s bunkroom and exited through the window straight away. Tom was perched on the rooftop. He didn’t appear to have moved.

Her body shook a bit and a single red tear forced its way out of her eye. Her hand still stung from slapping Al.

“Powerless. Again.” Her teeth were clenched together. She struggled to think straight.

“Nina?” Tom leaned down, concerned.

“The Prince’s men have been kidnapping these girls for the ball. This rescue mission stops here. I’ve struggled with my entrance into kindred society… after leaving the world of the mob behind I didn’t want to have any society at all. Books make much better company than people.”

Tom waited patiently, discreetly failing to point out that the right company made all the difference.

“My mother and I used to make clothes for these girls. I don’t know if Mama worked here, she didn’t like to bring up the past. But I would still sometimes see them after Colosimo kidnapped me and took me back with his other illegitimate children. They’d be brought in for parties or special guests, Colosimo owned them so it didn’t really matter what it was, they just did the work. I couldn’t save them then and I can’t save them now.”

She let a long sigh escape her gritted teeth, the air hissing as it slipped past her fangs.

“But you were right when you said I was too afraid of humans, even now. I may not be able to do anything here, but I can right some wrongs from my own past. If I touch what’s happening here I’ll only make a bigger mess after my temper tantrum in front of the Prince.”

She turned and smiled mirthlessly at Tom.

“I’m afraid I have to return to some old ways and some old haunts. I hope you’ve the stomach for what I will become.”

Tom returned her cold smile with a warm one. “Last I checked, I’m made of pretty stern stuff.”

____

The invitation from the Prince arrived the next day.

“An offering?! We provide all the booze and still need to bring something else to the party? I didn’t realize vampires were such fans of the potluck!” Nina raged to Tom, waving her invitation wildly.

He grinned toothily at her. “Well, who doesn’t like presents?”

Nina huffed over to her desk and pondered for a long moment. She kicked her bag where it sat on the floor and her drawings spilled out. Tom’s blood and the flying circus. Frank and the puppet master. What if…

“I’m going out tonight!” she yelled to Tom and went to get her wheelbarrow.
___

It was risky going back to the Everleigh. It was possible the Prince’s men might show up again for more girls. It was possible she might be recognized by someone, but she really did need someone just a little higher up than the average thug. Antonio Lombardo’s driver often came here for women… and wouldn’t he get a treat tonight.
___

Salvatore woke up groggy with a searing pain on his neck.

“Whaa?”

The attractive whore from the alleyway loomed over him, cloaked in a dark garment. Her eyes were bright, lips dripping red, and everything seemed rather blurry around him.

“You’ll be with me for a few days. I promise to keep you alive.” Nina glared at him, but somehow even that struck him as beautiful.

“But, I don’t understand, I--”
“Don’t worry your head too much. You’re coming with me in a few days time. I need a party favor.”

-Sigh- “Bill, bill, voter registration card...wait I still get to vote?”
He shakes his head a laugh, “What else have we got...Oh right the purchase order, the salary summary, account statements...wait, what’s this? Ah, a letter from the prince.”

Sy leans his cane against his work desk and begins perusing the letter.
“I see. She feels loyalty is owed to her and my submission is expected. Hmm...well won’t this be a surprise.”

He set his mail down and looks around his office reclined with his arms behind his head. “She wants a gift, something to signify my intentions.”

Sy glances out the open door into the shop seeing his employees working away on various vehicles, moving parts and throwing tools around. “Cal has been late to work the last several weeks but he’s handy with the torque converter. Esteban is slow at finishing the project motors but he doesn’t make mistakes. The Miller brothers Lionel and Maurice work great together but are next to useless when deprived of one another’s company. Then that just leaves the “Scot”- Albus. Bit of a bull in a china shop but his tirades leave everyone in stitches... I don’t think the princess deserves any of them.”

“No, this is gonna take some thought.”
He grabs his cane and heads outside to the backyard of scrap and old vehicles beyond the shop itself.

Sy wanders for a bit lost in thought. “What sort of message do I want to send and who is it for...I guess that’s the question. Do I want her to view me as a threat or as an ally, or something in between. And presumably this will take place in front of others who can see the pomp and circumstance...they will see the exchange as well which may lead to other...complications.”

He stops and rests against a rusted out car body. “An important decision like this requires careful consideration and planning...So basically anyone other than me is better qualified.” He slaps his hand down in frustration causing the front grill of the car he was leaning on to crash to the ground.

He cusses, and bends to grab the car part in preparation to hurl it into a trash pile of scrap metal. As he lifts it, the light of the moon catches his notice as it reflected off part of what he held in his hand. A slow smile spread across his face, “This will work nicely.”

Eito frowned when he finished reading the letter, then wiped his hand down his face. He sat in his recliner lazily, before he tossed the note behind him.
And now I have to go gift shopping. What would the ruthless leader of all vampiredom want, anyway?
He quickly adjusted his mindset- this was not some sort of lavish mortal gathering where attendants would try and show up one another with their most expensive gifts. This was to show loyalty and worthiness to the prince, not reveal who had the deepest pocketbook.  
As he strained to think, he couldn't help but feel anxiety start to creep up. It had been nearly a month since he was informed of his task and he still had no real lead on his sire. The Prince already viewed him as an accident, an unwanted variable that now had to be calculated into her plans.
Actually, no that was giving himself too much credit.
This ball was vital. If he failed to produce anything, disregard a chance to prove his worth. . . his best hope would be she forgets about him before the year ran out.  
He considered the brooch he received from Norman, but then shook his head, "Re-gifting is so tacky. That's not something I can call my own." He paused, "Not yet, anyway."  
He stood up and walked over to one of his oak cabinets. Opening one of the drawers he started to leaf through the organized folders. Inside were photographs- dozens, hundreds carefully preserved. Some were several years old now.  They were of buildings, of the waterfront, frozen moments from parades and other celebrations. The architecture was the most numerous. This is what ignited his photography passion in the first place. He remembered sitting in his father's automobile, being driven around so that he could see the sights of the city, marvel at the towering skyscrapers.

"Most of these are frame worthy. She can't exactly go out in the middle of the day and snap one of these herself, now could she?" He chuckled to himself, perhaps more nervously than he would have liked. "Now which one of these would appeal to her the most?"

Eito's frantic search came to a halt when he found a familiar building. It was composed of brick, 6 stories tall, 7 windows wide to a side and 3 on another. surprisingly unassuming for what went on within its walls. For it held the deeds and titles to a large number of the townhomes and apartments within the city. On the corner facing the street was affixed a carved wooden sign which read:  Holford and Caine Property Trust.

While he stared at the photo, he realized he didn't really reveal all his identify to the Camarilla. Maybe it was time to let them know how influential he could really be. He took  the photo from the cabinent to set aside so he wouldn't forget it. "Errand's done. Now comes the fun part."

He walked from his study to the bedroom, over to his closest. "Now what to wear?"

Tom is hunched over one of the many writing desks in the Ryerson, a gas lamp burning. He surveys his work, giving it one last perusal. The parchment is a fine vellum, the words written in a large, tight script.

To her dark majesty Bianca, Ruler of the Kindred and Kine of Chicago and its environs,

I formally pledge my allegiance to the Camarilla. I will uphold the tenets of the Ivory Tower to the best of my ability. Yet, there is more I can promise: my humble Ashen Ball gift is my loyalty to you and your office; my sharp eyes and strong wings are yours to command.

I give to you a boon to do with as you see fit.

Your sincere servant,


Thomas Snout, childe of Fortinbras, childe of Ianus.

The gargoyle holds up a blot of cobalt wax, heating it up with the lamp, before sealing it.