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| Memoirs Of A Butler [ Part 1 ] |
by: Tycho |
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Crisp, peaceful air blanketed the enormous mansion. The refreshing wind chased the air across my black suit, yet not a wrinkle creased the flawlessly starched collar as I gazed down the long driveway, hands tightly clasped behind my back. I have reliably been told that when I am nervous, I don't twitch. If anything, my body becomes rock-still and I was once mistaken for a statue. Of course, that was a rather embarrassing situation, but one which has no impact on this story.
My 'mistress' as she liked to call herself, floated across the marble patio to try and take a peek over my shoulder down the sinewy curved, bitchumen driveway. My long, sensitive bat ears picked up her nervous tap of fingernail against fingernail as she impatiently expressed her displeasure at the empty driveway.
'Why haven't they arrived, Patrick ?' She cried out in despair. 'I expressly told them to arrive here at nine o'clock !'
I rolled my eyes heavenward, slightly glad that she wouldn't be able to see my derisive action. Unlike myself, my mistress, Angelina Trepair did not share my talent of remaining cool and calm, under nerve-rendering situations. She tends to... fray at the ends, to put it subtlety. Tonight had the tinge of being a bad night, but not one where the invited guests wouldn't turn up... it had something more subtle which mistress wasn't able to detect right now.
'This simply does not coincide with my plans !' Her complaint rang in the night air. ' Oh dear... you don't suppose they're purposely snubbing me ? It would be just like that, Vincent telling them to snub me and all. Was it really my fault that that cheap harlot he spent time with, was exactly the Sabbat bitch I told him she was ?' her cries started to hit the edges of a high pitched octave, of the voice which she had cultivated in her privileged mortal youth. The same cries were also starting to grate on my heightened sense of hearing.
Silently berating myself for getting myself into this mess fifteen years ago, I smoothly pivoted on my left heel to look down upon my short mistress. 'Madame Angelina, It is only eight thirty, and since when have your fellow clanmates ever deigned to arrive ... ' my mind scrabbled over what could be said in a Toreador's presence. ' unfashionably early ?' I was well prepared for the slap which connected with the full force of her tiny body behind it. It was not the first time she had slapped me, and it probably wouldn't be the last. However, due to my idiotic mistake fifteen years ago, and my stupid sense of honor, I'd just stand there and take her blows. It was rather fortunate, that she was more of a socialite, then a fighter, and hadn't picked up some useful tips from some of my... well to put it in her words, 'Anarchic, chaotic, narcissist common folk.' .
She instantly regretted her action, and soothingly rested the back of her palm against my lean cheek. ' Oh my dear, I'm sorry about that,' she took her ever-present fan from the left sleeve on her crimson dress. ' and you have remained stubborn to always bluntly insult my clan when you feel like it. Why haven't I bothered to properly beat that insulting doggedness out of you ?' and with that, she tapped her fan against my cheek.
I considered for a brief moment, before quipping ' I believe that you would tire of it quickly, for beating me would not be an interesting exercise. Also, it might seriously wrinkle your elegant dress. May I assume that Valentino prepared that piece ?' As always, comments about her clothing distracted her from the topic at hand. Her smile lit up her face, as she stepped back and twirled the dress, silk cloth whispering as it slid across her smooth flesh. ' You approve, my dear ? Valentino's work is quite admirable at times.' I nodded politely, and tacked a brief grin onto my face. ' I most definitely approve madam, ' My ears perked up and twitched a few times, as I slightly strained the boundaries of what I could hear, and smoothly looked down at the twin lights traveling down the driveway ' And it would appear that your honorable guests are arriving.' Like a little girl awakening on her birthday, she clapped her hands, and delightedly scampered up the stairs of the main staircase, her hand dragging along the balustrades. A wry shake of my head, and firmly closing the door and taking one step backwards, was all the preparation I needed.
Firm tapping of a shoe and a cane were heard walking across the gravel pathway ahead of other footsteps. That would be the ever-present Prince Valentine Franchetti of Boston. Though in my own mind, I doubted how much longer he would be Prince for. A rather young Ventrue Ancillae, I rather doubted that he was actually the man in power, though he certainly used his power, like a bludgeon, unlike his more sedate, younger 'brother', Everett Hamlynn , his second-in-charge, who was like a surgeon with a scalpel. And a very razor sharp scalpel at that. To the common observer, Everett seemed to be the one in charge... yet, sometimes it didn't seem like he was. But hell, that was politics, and I got myself into this mess because of one little mistake.
A sharp 'Thrrrap' slammed on the door brought my attention to it. Giving a half-shrug, I strode across to the door, and with a slight tug, pulled them wide open, to greet our Ventrue guests. Some of them were accompanied by a variety lackeys, from ghouls, to Gangrel or Brujah bodyguards.
The prince, Valentine wafted pass me, his cologne, I've never bothered with that stuff, blasting me straight in the face. Were I a mortal, I'd probably be crying in pain at the sickly sweet stench, but as it is, I merely wrinkled my nose a couple of times. Everett smiled at my reaction to the scent which Valentine wore. Everett was the most-liked Ventrue in the entire city, and that was saying a lot. He was the one who successfully negotiated a mild-peace treaty between Anarchs and Camarilla, not only because he had the power to back it up, but also because nearly every single one of the Camarilla Brujah respected and backed him up. And for a Ventrue, that's a damned miracle in my opinion. He warmly clasped hands with me, then nodded at Valentine.
'Valentine still has a terrible sense of smell ?' I queried.
'Valentine still has a atrocious sense of smell.' came the usual reply. Everett gave a quick look around, then murmured in a low tone 'Kenzie, you and I will have to talk to you sometime soon.'
I blinked several times, rather startled. Everett usually found little reason to give me any talks, apart from a warning or two, which usually in the form of a simple note. To actually have to tell me face to face, would mean something was seriously wrong.
At that moment in time, while the rest of the Ventrue entourage strode through the double doors, my mistress decided to make her 'glorious entrance'. The slight strumming of low violins filled the air, as the ghouled orchestra played as planned, the piano soloist running arpeggios up and down the keyboard, and The mistress descended gracefully down the grand staircase, a slight curl of the lip betraying her calm, marble grace.
To Valentine, it was as if an Angel had came down to the world. His little... dalliance with the Sabbat was merely a mere break in their ongoing relationship. Even for my short service of fifteen years had witnessed quite a few variations in their partners, but they would always come back together. It was as if a magnet drew them together for whatever reason would happen. With a slight bending at the waist, and a more grandiose gesture with my hand, I directed the assembly of Ventrue over to the main hall, where the stage, orchestra and entertainment lay. A Ventrue Couple, paced over to where a mahogany and ivory chess set rested upon a large marble stand. They had both been avid leaders in their fields of law, but had both shared a passion of chess. Silently, I blessed my usual Nosferatu contact, Sir Gerard Buntingly of his knowledge of the various patrons of this party.
The Doorbell suddenly rang with its melodious tune. And rang, and rang. With a slight sigh, I strode across the marble, full knowledge of the party of kindred who lurked behind that strong, oak door. I stood for a moment, listening to the chimes of the doorbell ring, steadying myself for those who would sweep into the room.
With a strong tug, I pulled the paired doors inside in a sweeping movement, and stepped back with the overwhelming colors, styles, and curves of clothing draped over the entourage of the Toreadors of the city. The current male fashion of the world was stylized to darker hues of blue, black and gray, thus this was reflected in the various suits, tuxedos and clothing which they wore. The female's clothing however ranged from the simple elegance of the Ancillae and Elder Toreadors, to the chaotic clash of colors and fabrics which neonates tended to go for. It was as well that I stepped back, as they swarmed into the mansion with chatter, laughter and cries of criticism over this artistic piece or that wallpaper, in which only a socialite could possible do.
Furs, coats, a multitude of scarves and other such outer clothing were flung hilly-nilly into my outstretched limbs. With a weary shrug of my shoulders of what would come, I heard a shriek or two from some of the Toreadors as I callously threw the various clothing in any-old fashion into the closet, letting the various insults about my clanmates, manners, genitalia and other sorts lie in the air where they were flung, and resumed my place at the door, with several of the neonates who hadn't seen my callous way of dealing with the clothing before, threatening what they would do to me, my clothing, and my reputation.
A number of older Toreadors looked on slightly amused at their childe's antics, while the others swept on into the ballroom where my mistress and Ventrue kindred mingled as only socialites could.
A sharp knock on the door broke me out of my apathetic daze. Ignoring the young kindred, I opened the door to welcome in the quartet of Tremere who Angelina had deigned to invite. With haughty glares, and ostentatious sniffs in the air, the remaining Toreadors wafted away as the Tremere's unloaded their clothing onto me. I shared a wink with the only neonate in the small Tremere entourage, Michael Haskin. We got on fairly well, more because he owed me for saving his ass, which is in a totally unrelated story, and he hadn't learnt how to be Mr-I'm-a-manipulating-bastard...Yet.
He and the other Tremere then moved into the ballroom, those Cainites who wanted to try to manipulate of beg off favours closed in on them, while others who wanted nothing to do with them, and would be pretty happy if the Sabbat wiped them off the face of the earth, stayed away from them.
I walked over to the closet and placed the Tremere's outer garments on coat hangers in there. I dislike the Tremere as much as I dislike the Toreadors, but I'm not stupid enough to get petty with a Tremere. You tend to have quite the uncomfortable life if you get petty with a Tremere.
What they can consider to be petty, is often near life-threatening with your own personal health.
Walking back into the less confining airs of the hallway, I encountered Everett calmly waiting to the slight alcove below the staircase, an expensive blood-wine held in his left hand, his right hand edgily twirling an American Silver Dollar through his thin fingers. His gaze arrived on mine, and he motioned with his thin glass for me to join him.
With a quick look over my shoulder to make sure that Angelina's ghouls and servants were not overwhelmed by the guests, and that everything in the party was moving smoothly, I strode over to where he hid out of view of most of the guests. 'I've been informed that an Sabbat is going to try and infiltrate this party,' Good old Everett, always the one to drop the bombshell straight into your lap. Then again, bomb shrapnel falling onto your lap is rather painful, but that's another story. I quickly gazed around, while he continued. ' Where the hell are all the damned Uglies anyway ?' Everett has large amount of contacts, informants, sycophants and so on, who would tell him everything in their soul. Far more than the average kindred at that, but then again, he's always been one to deal with information, not business. Yet, the Nosferatu of this city refused to deal with the Ventrue on a regular basis.
Everett, even as well liked as he was, is still a Ventrue in the Nosferatu's eyes. ' They weren't invited,' I replied. 'Even if they threw on a illusory disguise, mistress assured me that she'd still be able to smell them out.'
Everett gave a few choice swearwords which succinctly summed up the way I felt at the moment. ' Everett, do you have any idea why an Sabbat would come into the middle of a Camarilla gathering ?' He shook his head sadly. ' I'm not sure exactly. It's a mystery to me. As far as I can tell, it's only one or two of them. Bit iffy right now. But lad, it ken be the midden heap hitting the windmill tonight.' Everett sometimes slips in pieces of his old Irish heritage and sayings into his speech. I have never, and probably never will, be able to figure out if he does it on purpose or not. Or maybe, it's one big confusion creating habit, which he cultivates.
' We should get the Tremere to start scanning everybody.' I said, giving each guest within eyesight, a thorough looking over. One Toreador socialite took my looking over her in a different and gave me a very friendly smile. 'No.' He determinedly said with a sharp motion with his right hand, slipping the coin back into the suit's pocket. ' That will start a panic, and will definitely scare off the guests.'
Now I swore softly. That would definitely start panicking the Toreadors, if not some of the Ventrues. This was definitely not a good night. It'd be good enough for a mortal headache.
What thumped the door next, would definitely turn the headache into a migraine. Now, I've known quite the amount of rabble, and they're fine folk in my books. But when this kind of thing is going down, I do not need the Brujah inviting themselves to a party which they have specifically not been invited to.
Now at this point in time of the century, the Brujah were rather well behaved. Or at least the Camarilla ones. These Brujah, did come with their charismatic, stereotypical bad attitudes, but they lacked the leathers, strange haircuts and metallic objects embedded in their flesh, which other Brujah decide decorate themselves with. Which was rather fortunate in my case.
The particular group which swept in through the wide double doors, were ... not like other Brujah. This group called themselves the 'Narcissists' as their gang. They were... Toreador Imitators, but their loyalty swung wildly from one sect to the other. One moment they were Camarilla, the next, they were Anarchs. It had been rumored that they had spent some time as Sabbat, but not even the Nosferatu could clarify that rumor.
With cries of imitation 'Oh me oh my', and the such, I swung my eyes up to the air as if the remote chance of an answer coming down to me. Toreadors, while having a certain lackey-like substance to them, also had a certain style. I could possibly pass myself off as a Toreador with some style, for maybe.... Oh, five minutes max, provided nobody noticed my bat ears. But these guys couldn't imitate a constipated Toreador if their asses depended on it.
I noticed three of the most handsome Brujah make a beeline for Angelina who was chatting patiently with some of the Orchestral ghouls. Well not quite a beeline, mind you. I had to hand it to them, they did dine and wine a few other kindred as they made their way towards her. Even then, it lacked a certain... flair. They were abrupt to the point where Brujah were expected to go to, but at the same time it was almost rude, by Brujah standards.
Angelina saw them before they reached her and started flirting harmlessly with them. I tried to keep an eye on them, while serving the various kindred. A Sabbat infiltrator ? That was unlikely, but at the same time not out of the realm of possibilities.
I noticed Dennis, the leader of the Narcissist chatting quietly to Valentine, who was nodding in some agreement. Once in awhile, during their suspicious conversation, Dennis would break his gaze away from Valentine, to take a quick look at his gang members crowded around the flirting Angelina.
Before I could do anything about it, one of mistress's ghouls, Ralf, edgily murmured in my left ear, while I was serving a blood-champagne.
' Excuse me boss, but I think we got a slight problem. Reporters.'
Swearing would do no good in this situation, but fortunately I blessed some foresight on one of my Nosferatu friend's part. Slipping a hand into one of my pockets, I produced a pair of fake latex ears. lose inspection would reveal them to be what they were, but in the dark embrace of night, and with my long hair partially covering them, they should pass for normal mortal ears.
I walked outside to see the small crowd of news reporters, journalists and a TV crew overwhelming the lone ghoul I had placed on the watchout, just amongst the parked limousines, and other transports. Now don't get me wrong, I have a fairly open, if naïve , opinion of most people. Reporters provide a certain view of what is going on in the world. Sure, they might have a rather distorted idea of our society, but it's one which deserves to be hidden from their prying eyes. Though... I'm fairly sure that the U.S. government has similar views upon Roswell. I strode down to the small group pestering the poor ghoul. One of the Reporters there made a rather nasty remark about Angelina, who had been quite the artistic philanthropist and the way she gave money generously to orphanages. I tapped the Reporter on the shoulder. 'Excuse me sir, but would you mind terribly much, leaving this property right now ?' I asked politely. No need to get off on a bad foot with anybody.
'Hey watch the suit man !' protested the man, roughly shoving my fingers off his shoulder. 'And get your greasy hands off me !' I frowned slightly. Time to take off the kiddy gloves. 'Okay 'man'.' I replied. 'You've just earned yourself a nice little lawsuit. Trespassing on private property, slander, assault, and you can bet your shiny white ass that I will make it a very, very expensive lawsuit.' I drew myself up to my full height of six feet, four inches, intimidating the young man with a steely glare.
One of his colleagues in the crowd swore softly about lawyers, then wisely decided to leave with the rest of them. However, the one in front of me couldn't loose face before his peers. 'Oh yeah ?' he sneered. 'Well listen to me. Cause when my lawyer is through with you, you'll be ... you'll be... ' he stuttered off, not knowing what to say to a lawyer in a situation like this. Must be a new guy, if he doesn't know how to insult a lawyer.
I reached inside my breast pocket, pulling out a pre-made card, and handing it to him. 'You can expect that lawsuit to be on your desk on Monday, if you don't get out of here. ' then summing up my best military parade-ground voice, I shouted 'NOW !' And with that, they scurried off away in the dark of the night. I relaxed, and slouched, bringing my height down a few inches. Terry, the ghoul who had been surrounded before, looked on with a slight amazement. 'that.... That was amazing Mr Kenzie !' I shrugged. 'Watch a couple of episodes of any decent law show, and you'll get an idea of how to act. It works well enough. Now get back to your post.' I strode away, leaving him looking at the vacating media personnel.
Entering back in, I came upon the panicked Ralf. His sweat was running down his sweaty, pudgy face, making him look as Angelina would put it. ' A large, perspiring, chocolate Christmas pudding.' She had ordered him not to do so, quite a few times. Before he could blurt out anything revealing infront of the guests, I raised one slender finger, and placed it in front of my lips in a 'quiet' gesture, while tugging him away to a side-room with my other hand. Looking around, I couldn't see anybody within eyesight who would say anything, then with a quick beckoning motion for Ralf to tell me what he needed to desperately say.
With a harsh whisper, he said 'Mistress has disappeared !!'
I blinked 'Are you sure she didn't take some guy she fancied into a more... private location ?'
He shook his head definitely. 'No... I also checked on all of the security cameras. Also the three Brujah who were with her have left too ! It's as if she's disappeared into thin air. '
Damn. This is definitely not my night. |
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