by Gavin Green
POLITICS
Emissary Vincent Zapada let out a bellow of rage and tore away from Olinchenko's grasp. Before he could charge two steps forward, Viggo swung a backhand fist that caught Zapada in the face. The crunching impact slammed the emissary to the floor in a heap. What a stupid bastard.
It was over. The distorted shadows dancing around the office immediately faded away to their natural positions. That's when I noticed Horn, who was cowering on his knees over by the wet bar.
From the across the room, Tomasino said in a demanding tone, "What have you done?" He was stepping back through the hole he'd just made. His tie was crooked and his suit was dusty from drywall, but he otherwise didn't appear to be hurt. "Where is the Doyenne?"
"For all intents and purposes," Viggo stated evenly, "Emmeline Le Meur is gone. Accept it as fact so that we can move on. There are details to be handled."
Tomasino hesitated; he was in a tough spot. "Look," I said to him, "I know it's your job to protect the Doyenne, but like Viggo said . . . she's gone. We've got some shit to handle here, and we could use your help, okay?"
There was a sudden pounding at the door, and a muffled voice started asking questions. I guess that someone being thrown through a wall made a bit of a ruckus. I yanked Horn to his feet and harshly whispered for him to handle the guard out in the hallway. We all waited in silence while he cracked open the door, smoothly apologized for the noise, and said that everything was fine.
As soon as the door shut, Tomasino said to Viggo, "Eidolon, if you will not return Lady Le Meur, then we have a vacant position. A vacuum in power will draw unwanted attention."
"I am quite aware of the possible consequences," he replied while looking down at Zapada's limp body.
I felt a rush of panic, thinking that my demented sire was going to blood-bind the Outsider emissary into servitude. "Grigori," I quickly said, "can you bring Mr. Zapada around?" Viggo turned and gave me a curious look; I did my best to ignore it.
"Yes, although he might be in the same state of mind before the Veleti downed him."
"Do it anyway," Tomasino said. "If he is still in a rage, I will calm him. We need all of the emissaries to make important decisions. That is, unless the Veleti plans on taking the city throne."
Viggo shook his head and said, "The only interest I have in the throne is to see a proper leader in it." He pulled out his phone and added, "I will call Mr. Merritt and ask him to contact Mr. Powell so that they both might join us here. Excuse me."
"I - I hate to sound petty," Horn spoke up, "but I'm expected out in the gallery."
"Yeah, okay, just give me a second." I glanced around, getting priorities straight. Olinchenko was knelt over Zapada. Viggo was on the phone with his back to us. Horn was still shaken from the eerie shadows and Le Meur being thrown into the void. Tomasino remained tense. I asked him, "What's the big fucking deal if we don't have another leader for a little while? Can't the emissaries handle the political shit until they choose one, or however it works?"
"If only it was that simple," he said with a sigh. "A vacant seat of power will draw contenders who want it. They may wait for our faction emissaries to decide, or they may try to take the empty throne by force. The latter would make targets of the emissaries and me. I'm not fond of that idea. And that, Mr. Beck, is only the initial danger we'd have to deal with if the city throne is not filled soon."
"Uh, alright, what else is there?"
"The Consortium . . . I'd rather not dwell on that now, especially if the seat can be filled and avoid it."
"Okay then," I said to Tomasino, "here's what I had in mind. I need you to bring Mr. Riva back here; I'd ask Grigori over there, but he doesn't like crowds. Riva will introduce Mr. Horn to the people out there, now that Le Meur's gone." I looked over to Horn. "Hey, he's your sire, anyway, so it only seems right. Mr. Zapada is coming around. The rest of us will make sure he's a good boy. When the other emissaries show up . . ." I glanced at Viggo, who nodded while still holding the phone to his ear, "it'd only be proper that the enforcer escorts them back here, right?"
"It would," Tomasino agreed.
"Good, then they can pick a new Doyen between them, and no one will be the wiser except to know there's been a shift in power. Does that sound okay?" They nodded, and I turned to Horn. "Give me your phone. I don't want any of this leaking out."
While he handed over his cell, Tomasino said, "I will collect Mr. Riva's as well," and then left the office.
Zapada didn't fly off the handle again. He sat on the floor in the corner with a stunned expression. At Viggo's request, Horn and Olinchenko watched over him. My sire led me to the far side of the office and quietly, sternly asked, "Why did you do that, Leo?"
I shrugged, playing stupid. ""I used to be a unit leader. I'm used to stepping up and making a plan on the fly. Sorry if I stepped on anyone's toes." I wasn't sure if Viggo knew he had a serious 'hoarding' problem. If he did, then he just realized I recognized it and was going to be either defensive or pissed. But if he didn't think he had a problem, then I might've just denied my magpie of a sire another shiny hemo.
"While your leadership skill pleases me for other reasons, that is not what I -"
The door opened, thankfully interrupting our little chat. Tomasino came in with Riva. All three of the Adepts left again a few minutes later. I caught another break and avoided Viggo's questions as Zapada kept him busy with pathetic begging to bring Le Meur back.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Tomasino came back in with Barnabus and the Adept emissary Nathan Powell. They didn't waste any time outlining the problem and discussing their proper procedure to endorse a new leader. Each emissary had at least one faction member present to confer with and decide what was best for their members.
Their mind-numbing chatter reminded me why I never watched C-SPAN. Olinchenko and I sat over by the desk to keep an eye on Zapada; we were pretty much bored as hell with the political bullshit.
Powell, looking like a white-collar workaholic, nominated himself. Tomasino countered, saying that the emissary was already busy with running Realm and wouldn't endorse him. Zapada stood, straightened his clothes, and asked that Le Meur be reinstated. Unexpectedly, it was Powell who argued against it, saying that his own faction elder's policies were flawed.
Viggo finally spoke up. "This is how I see it. Miss Le Meur will not be returning. Mr. Powell has other priorities, and therefore not endorsed by his own faction member. Mr. Fletcher, the only elder of the Outsider faction, is far too volatile to be given power." Zapada nodded his agreement of the assessment. "I know for a fact," Viggo went on, "that Mr. Merritt has no desire to claim the throne; he has personally told me so. Mr. Zapada's objectivity is currently compromised." Everyone nodded except Zapada.
"Pickings are getting slim," I whispered to Olinchenko. "Wanna be Doyen?"
"Pardon my parlance," he whispered back, "but fuck that."
"So, in my unbiased view," Viggo concluded, "there is only one choice - a good choice, no less." He turned to Enric Tomasino.
"Me?" the enforcer asked, shocked. I was pretty surprised myself.
"You have fared admirably in your duties as enforcer," Viggo explained. "Your only failures were events in which I was directly involved. And in those encounters, you displayed courage and honor. I doubt any of your peers could find fault in that."
"I endorse the Veleti's choice," Barnabus said to the group. "I formally nominate Mr. Tomasino of the Adept faction for the seat of Doyen. His many Gifts are noteworthy, his martial skill is easily up to the task, and I know him to be a learned daemon. Along with restraint and wisdom, he has noble character."
Nearly everyone nodded - even Powell, however reluctantly. Zapada just stared at his own shoes.
"Thank you for the kind words," Tomasino said, "but I'm not sure I'm comfortable accepting this."
"A good ruler does not rest easy in the seat of power," Viggo wisely said.
With an unreadable expression, Tomasino regarded everyon
e in the office. ". . . Very well," he finally said, "I humbly accept the position of Doyen."
I followed everyone's lead when they stood and bowed to him. All hail the sword-wielding wop.
PONDERING
Using every excuse I could think of, I avoided Viggo for the next few days. He called once or twice and left a couple messages in the hemo-net, but didn't stop by. The latter fact led me to believe he knew what was bothering me. Did it also mean that on some level he knew what he was doing was wrong? I didn't have a damn clue. Viggo wasn't killing anyone, although some glitch in his head was saying it was okay to take that whole blood-binding thing and fucking run with it.
You could make the argument that Viggo has blood-bound a shitload of humans and that it's not much different. You might wonder how it's simply accepted. Well, it just is. Argue and wonder all you want, it's been a part of hemo society for maybe thousands of years.
Like I said at the start, any given human is one of three things - ignored, a tool, or dinner. Since I started stalking them, my perception had changed. Hell, it had to, or I'd fucking starve to death. Even if I looked normal, I couldn't hang out with someone like Miss Loretta anymore; too much had changed. Only other hemos could understand, and the plain truth is that humans were one peg down now.
My point is that making minions is no big deal, but blood-bonding a hemo is serious shit.
Sure, I felt sorta bad for Riva and Horn and whoever else was blood-bound to my sire. The good thing for them was that they were out making money, getting shit done, and generally living their lives, un-lives, whatever. They were still slaves, but it was an 'on-call' type of thing.
The question that kept crawling into my brain was what about all the others Viggo collected and staked? Where were they? What was he doing with them, if anything? How could my sire justify the stealing of their lives? I mean, those poor bastards were locked in prisons of their own minds, unable to move, every conceivable freedom taken away. What a fucking nightmare.
Maybe some of the hoarded hemos deserved that hellish fate. I don't know. I assumed one of Viggo's scions, Wayne, was in that collected group; he deserved death, not to be trapped in his own psychotic head. Ragna deserved some sort of penalty for her actions, but not to be held in an indefinite limbo. Edward Galloway and Evan Dean, on the other hand . . . They were assholes, but their punishment didn't fit their crimes. I'm actually surprised I said that, but there it is.
On the night when Enric Tomasino was voted in and reluctantly took the title of Doyen, I slipped out while everyone was still talking. I wasn't ready to have that serious conversation with Viggo yet, and he would've cornered me at some point. I needed a fresh perspective, but didn't know who I could trust.
Wait, I take that back. I trusted Thunder, and confided in him when I finally got home. The overgrown hairball was a good listener, but wasn't shit for advice. He silently expected me to figure things out by myself and then dozed off on the couch. Sleep - maybe that was the answer. And no, I wasn't referring to me getting some shut-eye. I wasn't referring to me at all.
Barnabus also left some messages in the local hemo-net chat room. He let his fellow K.C. Deviants know that Doyen Tomasino had called for another Gathering to formalize some shit and name some hemos for administrative positions. I figured I was expected to attend, although it wasn't mandatory. Maybe I'd get a chance to straighten things out with Cordell. It'd also be a safe place to have the talk with Viggo that I'd been avoiding.
You know that feeling of nervous expectation - kind of tense, kind of excited, and mostly wanting to get something over with? Yeah, I fucking hated that feeling.
GATHERING
A week had passed, one damn long week. I walked around my shabby neighborhood, learning street names and remembering which little houses were noisy for one reason or another. I fed a few times, coming away from them with short-lived beer buzzes or pot highs. Clara stopped by one evening to play with Thunder; while brushing him, she talked about Ragna's dogs and the mysterious Mr. Lucida. Viggo called the night before the Gathering and offered to take me there with him. I respectfully declined.
It was kind of a pain in the ass getting to Tomasino's first Gathering. It was up in a penthouse apartment at the top of a luxury high-rise building. That figured. The new Doyen was basically cool, but he was also an Adept; being flamboyant every now and then was required.
The choice of entry into the building initially got under my skin, but I didn't take it personally. Hemos who didn't have an issue with security cameras were welcomed by attendants into the elegant lobby (I saw pictures online), where they were then escorted up in a classy elevator. Those who had a problem passing for human - meaning most Deviants - got to be met by nervous guards outside a rear delivery door. Armed with Mac-11s and thermite grenades, they silently ushered me up a service elevator to a closed-off floor. From there, they walked me over to the private lift everyone else got to use.
I stepped out of the elevator and into an enclosed foyer, where two more guards and Mr. Dupree were waiting. He was shutting the door behind him, apparently just having let in another guest. I pulled back the hood of my jacket so he could see me. Dupree studied me curiously for a couple seconds and then asked, "Your name and faction, sir?"
Frowning, I answered, "It's me, Leo Beck. What, you don't recognize me?"
"Leo Beck," he repeated, a little surprised, "the Veleti's minion?"
"Not anymore, buddy - I'm part of the family now. Can't you see the resemblance? Don't worry; the new Doyen already knows about me. Hell, he probably has a dry-cleaning bill for me to pay off."
Dupree gazed at me for another second, I assume to use his Discerning Gift thing to make sure I was telling the truth. Tapping the tiny transmitter in his ear, he said to whoever was listening, "Mr. Leo Beck, Deviant, no minions." He listened to a short response, and then tried to smile as he opened the door.
I stepped into opulence. In front of me and expanding to my right was the biggest living room I'd ever seen. Low-lit crystal chandeliers hung over three different sets of leather furniture. The couches and chairs sat on real fur throw rugs so they wouldn't scratch the marble floors underneath. On the far side of the living room was a wall of huge sliding glass doors that all led to a deep outdoor balcony facing north. Classical music played through ceiling speakers. Framed art and tapestries were hung on every wall. The scent in the air was a subtle blend of vanilla, baby powder and leather. I was so out of place.
A few hemos were sitting. A number more were out on the balcony. A breeze of cool night air wafted in from the open doors, carrying murmured conversations. Behind me to my right was an eat-in kitchen with fancy bar stools at the counter. Out across from it was an open dining room, although the normal furniture was replaced with a pool table and more seating. Of course, the dining room had access to the east side of the wraparound balcony. What self-respecting penthouse wouldn't?
Between the kitchen and the dining room was a wide hallway leading back to other rooms. There was another hallway just like it to my left. I assumed that they connected somewhere way back behind me, lined with plush carpet and stylish lighting. The place was fucking huge.
Stepping in from the balcony directly ahead of me were three hemos, two of which I recognized. Aldo Skala stood between Tomasino and some hemo I'd never seen before. Skala was wearing a Stevie Ray Vaughan t-shirt under his blazer, while Tomasino was in slacks, vest, and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The stranger - a tall, younger-looking guy with long blonde hair and a naturally stern face - had on a long blue velvet jacket with a big sapphire necklace over it. In comparison, I didn't have one lick of style. If I'd known fashion sense was a hemo prerequisite, I wouldn't have let Viggo turn me.
The three were talking amongst themselves when I approached, so I stopped a few polite paces away. They were talking in German, so it wasn't like I could join in anyway. Facing my direction, Skala noticed me first and frowned - big surprise. Besides boots, jeans, and my new hoodie,
I had on a pair of heavy duty work gloves I found in the workshop of my place. Hey, sue me, I wasn't exactly comfortable with my new looks yet. I returned his crusty, judgmental glare with one I hoped he saw as, "you're a dick".
The other two noticed me. Tomasino nodded a hello and said, "Thank you for attending, Mr. Beck."
"Yeah, uh, sure, no problem," I replied, and then stepped forward with my hand out. He didn't hesitate to shake it, but did glance down at the glove. "Rough hands," I mumbled.
"I don't mind," he said pleasantly, and then turned to introduce me to the stranger. "Leo Beck, allow me to present elder Adept Dorian Riniker, lately of Vienna. Elder Riniker has agreed to become part of this city's collective, and shall be filling a needed position."
I remembered to bow first; he was an elder, after all. "Well, uh, good to meet you, sir."
Riniker gave a slight bow of his head. "Sprechen Sie Deutsch, Herr Beck?" he asked.
"Uh, no, sorry - I still have trouble with English." The only German I knew was 'nein' and 'gesundheit'.
"Ah, pity," he said in a neutral way that could've been condescending or just a regular reply. "It seems we all have a commonality between us. As you and Herr Skala are both scions of the legendary Veleti, Mr. Tomasino and I are also related in such a way. He and I are scions of the renowned European Adept Heinrich Mueller, who was of course key in the establishment of the Hapsburg Dynasty."
Like I knew what the hell that was. "No shit? That's impressive," I replied, trying to sound like I meant it.
"Mr. Beck," Tomasino said as he stepped forward, "I wonder if you and I might have a quick chat."
"Of course, Doyen; how can I help ya?"
"A private chat, if you will," he amended as he put his hand on my shoulder and led me away. Heading toward the hallway, we passed a trio of Outsiders - Lexian Grimm, Jade Clayton, and my former friend Cordell. They all nodded to Tomasino, but only gave me a passing glance.
