It had not gone without notice in various cities across the country, if not the world, that the possibility of an open war had been looming, and New York was no exception. Proper details didn’t necessarily filter through right away, though between that news, and recent news of a Decadonian terrorist found to be out in the deserts of the Southwestern United States, led Petra to rightly believe that Brandon was somehow involved. She had sighed at the news, but had been spending less time at the office and more time practicing her combat skills. If there were to be a war, New York would be embattled on multiple sides, from Philadelphia to the south, as well as a chunk of Long Island in their midst. She wanted to be prepared if that day came, though she still planned to move out of New York when possible. She was tired of it, and wanted some change. Moving herself would be easy enough, but the business? That was harder.
When the news filtered in that both sides were at the negotiating table, she had frowned, wondering about all the nuances that would be needed. Who was negotiating, for instance. Without the right people working on it, war would break out anyway, were some of the whispers she’d heard spoken in Elysium courts. This was a concern of hers as well – too many voices, relying on so few to set things right. No one wanted the war, as far as she knew, based on the willingness of the Sabbat to come to the negotiation table at all.
“Curiouser, and curiouser.” she muttered to herself one day at the office. If anyone heard her, they didn’t speak up. Petra didn’t care if anyone had overheard – it wasn’t meant for them, and betrayed nothing sensitive. Curiosity over the situation was getting the better of her, but she had other things on her plate as well – such as hunting down the man who’d cursed Brandon.
Curiosity peaked one night, however. She checked in with her sources on the Brandon angle of things, but there had been nothing new for some time now, something that greatly frustrated her. Already annoyed by the time she finished speaking with those contacts, she reached out to other, more local contacts to see if they knew anything of the negotiations going on. Nosferatu were charging a premium for information right now, and while she could afford the prices they were asking, she disliked price gouging in times of crisis, so she kept her questions to an absolute minimum. In fact, asking only one, which seemed to disappoint the Nos she spoke with.
“Who is negotiating for our side?” had been the question.
It took a little tooth pulling. Or rather, a quite literal threat of tooth pulling to the lumpy, tusky faced Nosferatu with whom she was dealing with, in order to get the information. He was a real stickler about the price, though. That, she didn’t care about, and paid readily. What she wanted, was the information.
“You’d better be telling the truth, Lenny.” she had said, narrowing her eyes at the other vampire. “Or I’ll be back every night for a month to rip those tusks out of your face.”
“Lucinde!” he’d finally rasped out, fearful of the threat. Lenny did not have the highest pain threshold, something Petra was aware of, and unafraid to exploit it if it suited her.
“Thank you, Lenny.” she said, a pretty smile playing on her face as a way to intimidate him.
After her dealings with Lenny, she’d simply headed back to her office, where she made a plan to work through other channels – clan channels, specifically. She decided to start by contacting a local Ventrue – her Primogen, in fact. Sighing a little, she picked up the phone, and dialed. Predictably, he answered almost right away.
“Petra! How wonderful to hear from you.” came Maxwell’s voice from the other end.
“Mr. Crawford, I…” she began.
“Max, please.” he said, the tone in his voice was smooth.
“Max.” she said, rolling her eyes slightly. “I was hoping we could talk, and discuss current events.”
“Of course. I always have time for you, Petra.” he stated.
“Wonderful. Could you come by my office?” she asked.
“I was rather hoping you would come to me.” he stated.
“Of course. My apologies.” she said, playing the role of the dutiful underling.
“Let me give you an address.” he stated, waiting until she was ready to jot it down before giving it out.
“Thank you, Max. I’ll see you soon.” she said before hanging up. From there, she turned to look up the address – an apartment in Tribeca, one of the most expensive districts in the city to live, and popular among celebrities and the like. Of course he lived there.
Petra got up, checking herself out in a mirror in the office bathroom. It was a very professional look, and she wrinkled her nose at her reflection. She hated, hated playing this part. It made her feel like a doll to dress up and be something she wasn’t. She did it anyway though, having told herself that, for the duration of her stay in New York, she would keep it up. Once she moved, she would revert to a more comfortable style.
She texted Nikolai briefly to let him know she would be home late most likely, then took the elevator downstairs, walked through the parking garage until she found her vehicle, a sleek sedan, and slid into the driver’s seat. Taking longer than necessary, she plugged the address into her phone’s GPS and sat several minutes with the car idling, before finally pulling away from the parking space. She weaved through the city streets, managing through sheer dumb luck to find parking near Maxwell’s building. Stepping out of the car, she straightened out her clothes, and made her way to his apartment proper.
Maxwell Crawford was another in the line of those who found Petra attractive. The problem was that, most of these people she did not like, or just found herself wishing for Brandon or Vince. Mostly, she had no interest in dating, save for where those two came into play. They were far out-of-reach now, and she had to move on. She was making the effort, and though Max was a decent enough guy, she had just never felt a spark with him, though she sometimes toyed with the idea of trying to enter a relationship with him, just for the sake of not being alone.
Petra shook her head free of these thoughts as she knocked at the door to his place. Max himself opened the door and welcomed her.
“Petra! Welcome. Please come in.” he said, stepping aside, closing the door behind her after she entered.
“Thank you, Max.” she said, a small but sad smile on her face.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, noting the smile.
“Oh…yes. I just have concerns about recent events. I was hoping you could satisfy my curiosity in that regard.”
“For you? Anything I can manage.” he said with a smile.
“Max, please.” she sighed.
“I know, I know. You aren’t looking for a relationship. I can’t help how I feel, however.” he indicated. A look of disappointment flitted across his face for but a moment, before he escorted her to the sofa, and sat near her. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“It’s recent events…these negotiations with the Sabbat.” she began. “My understanding is a Ventrue might be heading negotiations, which is wonderful. My curiosity demands to know more, however.” she smiled a little.
“How might I sate that?” he said, studying her.
“I was wondering if you knew, or knew of anyone that knew where they might be taking place? Or had any information at all as to how they were going?”
He sighed a little. “That’s a big ask.” he began. “One might say even boon worthy.”
“I know.” she said. “I’m prepared to owe.”
He took her hand in his briefly. “Don’t worry about the boon – anything I can do for you, I will.”
“That’s very sweet of you, Max.” she said with a smile.
“You’re in luck – I do have some information.” he started. “I’m not sure which one, exactly, but a Justicar is heading the negotiations. I also understand that, due to the defection of one Brandon Decacious and the issues that has caused, the Justicar is in the city he has settled in.”
“Where is that?” she asked, feigning ignorance.
“Phoenix, of all places. Can you imagine?” he smirked a little.
“If war were to break out, they’d be overrun.” she said, frowning. “If I recall properly, they’re practically surrounded by Sabbat – Mexico to the south, and New Mexico to the east.” she sighed.
“It would be chaos.” he agreed. “I wonder at the Prince of Phoenix to allow Brandon to stay there. Be that as it may, my understanding is that he is working with the Justicar on negotiations.”
“How do you get your information?” she said with a smile.
“Trade secret.” he grinned for a moment, before turning serious, taking her hand in his. “Petra…won’t your reconsider?”
“Max…please. I told you… I’m not looking, nor am I ready.” she said, frowning. She felt bad for letting him down – she did every time.
“I’m sorry.” he said, lifting her hand up to kiss the back of it.
Petra let him give the kiss, honestly a little flattered, but then pulled her hand away. “Thank you for the information, Max. I really appreciate it. Truly.”
“I know.” he said, a touch of sadness in his face.
She stood then, and he stood as well. “I should be going – I still have some things to take care of before daybreak.”
“Of course. I understand.” he said, then led her to the door. “Good night, Petra.” he said.
“Good night, Max.” she said, giving him a small smile as she left.
Now she had some food for thought. Of course things would be happening in Phoenix, and of course it sounded like Adam were involved. Her knee-jerk reaction was to reach out to him, to see if she could be of any help, but she restrained herself from picking up the phone and doing just that. Focusing now, she started the car, and began to weave her way through the city streets until she got home. The first order of business, she told herself, was to get more comfortable.
Unfortunately, she soon learned, those plans would have to wait. Waiting for her at the house was one of her contacts, sitting and speaking idly with Nikolai as he waited. He was of average height with close-cropped blonde hair, brown eyes hidden behind glasses.
“Petra.” he said, standing as she entered the room.
“Ray.” she nodded.
Ray reached into his duster jacket, and removed a manila envelope. “I found who you’re looking for.” he stated, handing her the envelope. “He’s been keeping a low profile, and was a major bitch to find, but all the info I was able to get is here for you.”
“Thank you.” she said, taking the envelope from him. It wasn’t very thick, but it wasn’t thin, either.
“My payment?” he asked.
“Nikolai, transfer the funds to his account.” she ordered.
“Yes, miss.” he said, leaving the room temporarily to handle things.
“Are you going to be okay taking this guy out on your own?” Ray asked, a mild look of concern on his face. “I mean, I’m more than willing to help.”
“I’ll handle it, Ray. Thank you.” she said, looking briefly at the contents of the envelope.
Ray shrugged. “Suit yourself.” he looked down at his phone after it buzzed. “Transfer completed. Thanks again, and I will see you later.”
She nodded as Nikolai headed back into the room. “Good night, Ray.”
Nikolai saw Ray to the door, and Petra sat down, looking through the contents of the envelope more thoroughly. There were photos, mostly, but there was some basic background information on the man. Alaric Kauffman, of Clan Tremere. She had guessed the clan. Easy enough, considering he had cursed Brandon. There was a limited dossier about him, as well as his current location – Ciudad Juárez, just across the border from El Paso, Texas.
Now that she knew where he was, she had to prepare, and she had to take care of things stealthily, so that he didn’t become aware of her intent to kill him. She also needed to think of a way to provide proof. She had the urge to rush, to handle things as soon as possible, but she knew it was smarter to bide her time; to plan properly. Sighing, she finally kicked off her heels and let her hair down in an effort to try and relax, but it didn’t help.
“Dammit.” she muttered, finally deciding to attempt to relax, though ultimately, she was unable to.
~ * ~
So as not to arouse suspicion, Petra was taking an early evening commercial flight rather than a private plane to Ciudad Juárez. It had been a couple of days since she’d received the information from Ray, and she’d left Nikolai in charge of things in New York, intending to do things on her own. While she knew it was Sabbat territory, she understood enough about their ways due to Brandon that she felt she could successfully blend in enough to gain more information on Alaric before striking. Namely, where he slept – that was really the only thing missing from the info packet she had received.
The flight itself was a long one, clocking in at nine and a half hours, with one stop to change flights. A hotel and rental car had been arranged, and she was operating under a well-crafted alias she had used on jobs off and on over the past decade or so. She settled in on the flight, listening to some music, and ignoring those sitting next to her, despite them trying to talk to her. She did not care to deal with mortals more than she had to right now, so after a while, she pretended to sleep, making a note to also feed after she’d landed and gotten settled, as the blood expenditure to appear human would be somewhat taxing.
The flight itself was uneventful, unless you counted a few bored or cranky children and their tired parents. There were the entitled ones too, of course, but it didn’t bother her overly much. Upon landing, she went through customs like everyone else, then collected her luggage and rental car, using GPS to guide her to the hotel, where she checked in and headed to her room. The room itself was alright – nothing upscale or fancy, since she was attempting to keep a low profile. What mattered most to her was that she would be able to keep the room safe during the day, so the low-key room suited her needs nicely.
Hungry, she took time to hunt, then spent the rest of her time before needing to get back to the hotel figuring out where the local vampires converged. After getting some information, she headed back to bed down for the day, and tried to make a conscious effort to set an internal alarm in order to wake up early and begin her mission.
~ * ~
Locating Alaric was proving to be as difficult as Ray had mentioned, and she was starting to lose hope of finding him, fearing he might have moved on. In a kind of last ditch effort, she started trying to befriend some of the locals, hoping they might be able to point her in the right direction. That’s how she met Sylvia, a ghoul that was more than happy to make a friend. Sylvia was a petite redhead, with dark eyes, standing a few inches taller than Petra herself.
“Thanks for always taking the time to speak with me, Cora.” she said.
“No problem, Sylvia.” Petra said, smiling at her.
“I’m usually so isolated from your kind. It’s nice to be able to talk to one of you.” Sylvia smiled.
“Doesn’t your Domitor talk with you?” Petra asked.
“Only to give orders, or to punish.” she said, hugging herself. “The only reason I’ve been here at the club lately is because he threw me out as punishment. I’m not to go back until the need gets bad, and I beg forgiveness.” she stated, referring to the need for vitae.
“I just want what’s best for him, to do right by him.” she mumbled, her lower lip trembling. “I can’t help it that I have a hard time memorizing formulae or not being quick enough to recognize ingredients. I try so hard, too.” Sylvia said, trying not to cry.
Petra reached out a hand to squeeze her shoulder. Sylvia was likely a Tremere ghoul, and that might lead to some information on Alaric.
“Is there any way I can be of help?” Petra asked.
“I don’t know how.” she sniffled. “Oh!” she brightened up as an idea came to mind. “Maybe you could talk to him?” she offered. “Not about me, oh no.” she quickly added.
“Is something going on?” Petra frowned slightly.
“It’s just…” she looked around, then leaned in and w whispered, so quietly Petra could barely hear her. “I think he’s gotten into something dangerous.”
“Such as…?” Petra queried.
Sylvia shook her head. “Not here. Do you think you could talk to him?” she asked again.
“Of course, but I don’t know who that is.” she admitted.
“Alaric Kauffman.” Sylvia said, her voice low and quiet again.
Petra blinked before quickly reverting to a poker face. Kauffman…she couldn’t believe her luck. “Alright then, Sylvia. I can talk with him whenever you’d like.”
“You can call me Sylvie.” she said shyly.
“Sylvie it is, then.” Petra said with a smile.
“Does tonight work?” she asked.
“Tonight is perfect. Let me know where to go.” she said. Sylvia gave Petra the information she needed, even told her to be careful, because the house was wired for surveillance in most places – everywhere but the basement.
“Thank you, Sylvie. Should I call you after?” Petra asked.
Sylvia nodded. “Oh, thank you, Cora!” she said, giving Petra a hug.
“It’s not a problem.” she said with a smile. They sat and talked a little bit longer, before Petra made the excuse that she wanted to go talk to Alaric before it got too late. Sylvia was all too willing to go along with this.
That poor, broken girl. Petra thought. Hopefully when I kill him, she doesn’t break further.
Heading back to her rental vehicle, Petra plugged in the address Sylvie gave her into the phone’s GPS, and carefully made her way there. The street was relatively quiet in this neighborhood, with larger than normal space between the houses. Kauffman’s property was a bit larger than the rest as well, so it afforded a more modicum of privacy. Before leaving the vehicle, she reached into the glove box, and removed a few weapons; two knives, brass knuckles, and a gun. The gun she tucked under her pant leg, while the knives she put in her back pockets, and the brass knuckles in her front pocket.
A final look in the rearview mirror told her she could stand to make a few adjustments. Stepping out of the car, she took her hair down from its pinned braid, letting it fall down her back, before undoing the braid itself and pulling her long red tresses back loosely. Upon stepping out of the car, she made some minor adjustments to her clothing before walking toward the house, dead set on her goal.
A polite knock on the door later, and she was greeted by a servant, who let her in, ushering her to what appeared to be a living area, asking her to wait while he collected his master. Another ghoul, most likely. Studying the ghoul as he walked away, she surmised he was more of a useful tool than a proper servant or bodyguard, though she didn’t have any guesses as to what purpose he might serve. While she waited, she looked around, studying the layout of the room and its vantage points. She was in the midst of planning when an older looking gentleman, standing roughly 5’11”, with short, salt and pepper hair, and piercing hazel eyes. He walked with a slight limp, and used a walking stick for support.
“What a lovely sight.” he began, giving her a smile. “To whom do I have the pleasure of entertaining?”
“Cora Laskaris.” she said with a smile.
“A lovely name.” he said, walking toward her. “May I?” he asked, reaching for her hand. In response, Petra held it out, and he took it, bringing it to his lips and kissing it, before letting it go.
“I must ask – what bring you by? It’s not often I have visitors, let alone a vision such as yourself.”
Gods, he’s laying it on thick. “I’m here on behalf of someone close to you. Think of it as a wellbeing check.” she said with a sweet smile.
“I’m quite fine, as you can see.” he admitted with a smile. “Though I welcome your company.”
“You have a lovely home.” she said, pretending to admire it.
“A tour, then, perhaps?” he asked.
“I would love one!” she said with fake enthusiasm.
He offered her the crook of his arm, and she took it, wandering through the house together with him, listening to him drone on about this and that, paying only half attention to what he said – enough to interject at appropriate times. In reality, she was studying the house itself – its layout, escape routes, bottlenecks – things of that nature.
After a lengthy tour of the house, they arrived back in the living room, where they both sat. Alaric set his walking stick on the coffee table in front of him. Petra took a quick glance at it, then turned her attentions back on Alaric. The walking stick appeared to be made of a fine wood – something dark, rich and sturdy. Ebony, perhaps. The idea of grabbing the walking stick and staking him came to mind, but she restrained herself for now, turning her attention fully to Alaric.
“Would you care for a drink, Cora?” he asked.
“I’m alright, thank you.” she insisted.
“Well, enough about me. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” he inquired.
“Oh, there’s not much to tell.” she said, but launched into the background she’d crafted for this personality – that of a young vampire trying to make her way, though she tailored it this time to edge darker, and make her sound a little hungry for recognition, and power.
“My my, you are an ambitious one, aren’t you?” he smiled.
“I suppose I am.” she said shyly.
“Interesting.” he said, leaning back and looking thoughtful, before breaking out into a big smile. “A woman after my own heart.” he said, standing just then to sit down next to her. He took his hand in hers, giving it a squeeze before leaning in to kiss Petra.
She had a split second to decide how she was going to react. She decided to let him, even lean into it to lull him into a false sense of security, though she’d definitely need to shower and brush her teeth after this. Discreetly, while he leaned into the kiss, she slid one hand around his back, and another into her back pocket, removing one of the knives she had hidden there. She pulled him in tightly, surprising him, though he got into it. Raising the knife up, she brought her fist down as hard as she could, wedging the knife in as deep and hard as her Potence would allow, right between his shoulder blades.
He screamed, flailing as he tried to reach behind him to pull out the knife, to no avail. “Harvey!” he screamed, and the servant from before came running, immediately trying to help his Master. “Fool!” he said, batting him away. “Get her!” he said, fumbling for his walking stick.
Harvey ran over, and took a swing at her. She threw a haymaker punch at him, sending him reeling. Credit where he was due, he got back up and jumped on her, trying to tackle her down. She struggled to pry him off, and as she did so she heard him whisper to her “Kill him… please… I’ll play along….”
Surprised by this, she finally managed to pull him off of her, and threw him against a wall. He landed with a thud, and while probably in pain, she could tell he was still breathing. Crouching, she took her gun from its ankle holster, and took aim at Kauffman. He, too, was taking aim at her with his walking stick, the knife still sticking out of his back, buried past the hilt.
It was hard to tell what had happened first. She remembered pulling the trigger, and then remembered him yelling at roughly the same time. The sound of the shot went off, and she pulled the trigger again, though her shot went wild this time, managing to hit him square in one eye.
“Infernus!” he yelled. Erupting from his empty palm came a sickly green fire, and she screamed as its flames licked and ate at her skin.
She ducked and rolled out of the way, managing to put out the flames on her clothes, and aimed her gun again, taking several shots before she managed to get him in the other eye, effectively blinding him. He flailed widely for a moment and, rapidly, she leaped forward, wrenching the walking stick from his hand, and he roared. She flipped it over, and ran toward him, intent on shoving it though his chest.
It didn’t budge. Kauffman laughed. “You think it would be that easy?” he yelled.
Petra quickly dodged as he used his abilities to shoot forth the sickly flame again, barely managing to not get burnt. She pulled her other knife out, working her way behind him, but it got knocked out of his hand as he tried to search for her. She rapidly looked around the room for something she had seen earlier – an arms display of two crossed swords behind a shield. Having studied them earlier, she knew they were real, and not just props. She’d have to run in front of him to get it. She leapt over the back of the sofa, racing toward the fireplace to reach above the mantle and grab a sword.
“Infernus!” he yelled again. She wrenched the sword free, just before another scream was ripped from her, as the balefire hit her in the back. Weak, she focused on moving vitae through her system to make her stronger and faster, then rushed to get away from his hands. From behind him, she raised the sword to her side, and yelled as she brought it down to his neck, cutting the carotid artery. Again and again, his screams of pain driving her, she hacked away at his neck, until she had effectively beheaded him.
Kauffman collapsed then, his body rapidly decaying to ash. She watched until this had happened, and then kicked at the ashes, scattering them. Over in the corner, she heard sobbing. Looking over, she saw Harvey, holding an arm as he slowly tried to stand. Petra walked over and helped him up.
“Thank you.” he muttered. “Thank you.”
“Why did you want your Master dead?” she asked.
“I couldn’t stand his evil practices any longer.” he said. “He’s been doing it for so long. I loved my Master… I didn’t want him to be damned, I wanted him to be saved. Thank you.”
“Harvey, do you have security cameras in this room?” she queried.
He nodded. “Why?”
“I want the footage from this fight. That can be my payment for all of this.” she asked.
“Yes, of course. Follow me.” he said, and carefully walked over the debris. He led her to a high security room, with a dozen monitors at least, and pulled up the footage of the fight. Everything was there, in all its horror. Harvey took some time making a copy of the footage, and handed it over to her on a portable external drive. “Everything is here.” he said.
“Good. I suggest you leave this place. Find Sylvie, and both of you find a better life.” she told him.
“What are you planning to do?” he asked nervously.
“Destroy this place. Now go.” she said, giving him as much of an intimidating look as she could muster. It didn’t take much for him to take off running.
Petra rummaged through the house and garage, collecting every flammable liquid she could find, from cooking oil to alcohol, and headed into the basement. Here had been Kauffman’s work station, with his prized tomes, and heretical texts. She began dousing the shelves with the alcohol, getting as much of it as she possibly could, before lighting a match from a box of them she had found in the kitchen, and tossed it onto the books.
As the fire began, she quickly headed up the stairs to the kitchen, turning on the stoves gas, and tossing some silverware and cleaning chemicals into the microwave before setting a ten-minute timer. She left, obfuscating herself to have a different appearance, one of an average, nondescript male, and made her way back to the car. Getting into the car itself hurt, but used some of her vitae to heal, and that helped a little. Checking her phone, she discovered she still had about three hours of night left, so she headed back to the hotel. Once in the room, she peeled off the few charred remnants of her clothing, and took a look in the mirror.
Her hair had been singed, and at least half of her body, plus her back, were blackened. Because she had used vitae to heal, her face was free of the scarring, which would do well to make it around every day until she could fully heal herself. Turning to her suitcase, she pulled out a change of clothes and slowly got dressed, wincing as the material brushed against her tender skin. Eventually, she was redressed, her singed hair tied back into a braid before getting pinned up to hide the singed bits as much as possible.
Petra looked around to make sure she hadn’t missed anything, then bagged the remnants of clothing, which she planned to dispose of in a random dumpster on her way to the border. El Paso was only a thirty-minute drive away, and she could get a hotel there before flying out to New York the next night, though flying direct to Phoenix was a tempting thought. Ultimately, she decided against that. Seeing Brandon or Vince again would not help her to get over them right now.
Upon waking the following evening, she used more vitae to heal, then packed her things, checked out of the hotel, and returned the rental car to its sister location in El Paso. From there, she got a cab to the airport, and chartered a flight home. This time, it would be a shorter flight, as there was a much smaller layover, so she would only have to deal with mortals for about five hours before she could get home, where she planned to eat first thing.
The flight was annoying – her seatmate was constantly trying to hit on her, despite her ignoring him or politely turning him down. Finally, she narrowed her eyes at him and spoke. “If you do not stop harassing me, I will rip them off like a paper towel.” she said with a slight growl. “I’m not interested.” The guy backed off after that, and the flight was much more pleasant.
Nikolai was there to greet her when she landed, and he helped her to the car. “Home?” he asked.
“No. I need to feed.” was her reply.
“Where to then?” he asked.
“The Rack.” she stated.
“Yes, miss.” he replied.
Nikolai turned the car to the direction of The Rack, letting Petra get out so that she could feed. She never went to The Rack if she could help it, partly due to her feeding peculiarities, though it usually wasn’t too difficult to find appropriate food in general for her. That night, she had to cover up two mistakes.
Once home, she began putting things in order, intending to send Nikolai to Phoenix in order to hand-deliver the external drive to Robert, unless Brandon were still alive somehow. He protested fiercely, demanding he be there to take care of her, trying to argue that she needed him, as she had gotten hurt this time. She got angry and snapped at him, reminding him of his place – something she never really had to do before.
Sullenly, he agreed to leave her, but made her promise to get in touch with him should anything happen before he left to pack for a potentially extended stay. While he was doing this, she made arrangements for him to fly out later that night, as well as hotel reservations for a few days – he could extend the stay if need be. Once he was gone, she relaxed a little, now unsure of what to do, other than wait to hear back about negotiations. Perhaps there would be news at Elysium. Perhaps Nikolai would inform her.
~ * ~
Petra was in the office again the following evening, tending to business. Her attire was different from what she tended to wear – a dressy turtleneck and a business suit with heeled boots – but it wasn’t so far out of the ordinary that it would draw any suspicion. Tonight, she did not want to dwell on what had happened in Ciudad Juárez. Nor did she wish to wonder about how the footage on the drive would be received by Robert. Less so did she want to wonder if Brandon were still alive. He had bade her go before he would start wasting away, and no one had said anything to her since, so she assumed nothing had changed. The only reason she’d held out hope this long was due to the news about Decadonia declaring there was a terrorist to their country in the U.S. Tending to business was the only thing she could think of that would distract her until she heard from Nikolai, which might be some time yet, depending on when or if he could get in touch with Robert.
She began with the paperwork, reading over summaries of what had been passed to her as possible things to publish, and she sorted those into piles – those that may market well, and those she thought needed more revision. When her eyes began to blur, she turned away from the paperwork to her computer, and began going through company email, something she was occasionally terrible at keeping on top of, as Nikolai would often tend to it. There, buried in a private e-mail address, was a letter from a man whom she vaguely remembered as one of her clan mates, sent some time ago.
Skimming it over, she noted there was an attachment, then re-read the message in full before clicking to open said attachment. It was a high resolution image of a good quality painting of two men engaged in a romantic kiss. The style of the picture worked quite nice, and she hunted for the artist’s signature and other details to ensure it had not been AI generated. That’s when she noticed, and burst out laughing. One of the men in the picture was a tall, handsome blonde in casual clothes. The other could be no one else but Vince, and she laughed until she sighed. It was amusing to her, but also a well done piece, and the man who’d sent it to her deserved a reply.
Mr. Donovan Wentworth, the letter began.
My apologies for being so late in replying to your message – I was out of the office on other business. The image you sent me is marvelous, and would work well for the right story – I would love to use it. I would need to contact the artist to seek permission, but there is a larger issue. I do not think the model on the left would not appreciate his likeness being used in such a manner, and I think you know this as well.
If you think the model for the right would like to be involved, contact me so that may get in touch with him. I’m sure something could be arranged with the artist at the very least for a good cover, and I would of course credit you with a finder’s fee, should you wish.
Sincerely,
Ms. Petra Mykanos
P.S. For your safety, I suggest we don’t use the version as-is… Vince would come after both our asses.
Petra read the letter over and clicked send. So what if he didn’t approve of her postscript? She really didn’t care. He was a Ventrue like herself, and like so many of her clan, was probably the same old stereotype. She seemed a loner anymore these days, what with her background and all. Then again, maybe there were others like her out there, with a different mindset than most. Perhaps Donovan were one of these mythical Ventrue. She smiled a little. She could hope, right?