Embrace Ch. 03

Amelia is the first to arrive, despite taking great care over her appearance. The small stool at the far end of the long table is likely for her, so she perches on it, arranging her full skirts to take up as little space as possible.

As other kindred arrive, they pay her no heed. Most of them acknowledge each other with a quiet word or a nod. An older looking man with a sandy beard makes a bit of a fuss of Leopoldine, kissing her on both cheeks, and assisting her in setting up her notary. He takes a seat further up the table on the opposite side.

"It's like I'm not even here," she sighs.

"Hardly." Felix answers.

Her heart would skip a beat. She almost jumps up in surprise, but there's suddenly a firm hand on her shoulder.

"What the devil are you up to?"

"S.. sire?" She stands and bows deeply. Wolf-Dietrich draws her up into a close embrace and holds her still.

"Who told you to come? Quickly now. Don't make this any worse for yourself."

"I was ordered to attend, it was Madame Eleanor, please don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry. At least not with you." He guides her back into her seat.

With that he heads up to the very top of the table, and takes the seat to the right of the throne.

"He's more afraid than angry, you know."

Amelia doesn't dare reply to the voice in her head. This is going to be difficult enough without making herself look like a crazy woman.

She feels Felix's amusement. "I have missed you kid. Things have gone well for me, easier than I could hope. Just hang in there, I know it's not been easy for you."

Perhaps it's best that she can't reply to him.

As the room fills, Amelia watches the small quiet interactions between the kindred with growing fascination.

"That's the spirit. Here's a little trick that none of these cadavers in silk appreciate. Use the blood, take a closer look and see past them, see around them."

That makes more sense than it should. Just as she can direct the blood to heal, Amelia focuses on her vision. She watches Leopoldine frown in concentration as she writes, a faint halo of pale mauve light appears behind the kindred's mousey hair.

The swarthy bearded face of Rudolphus comes between them. He shakes his head and raises an eyebrow, mouthing the words, "Stop daydreaming." His smile is not unkind. He moves immediately across to speak with the sandy haired gentleman.

Amelia quickly drops her gaze, but sneaks a look up at Wolf-Dietrich. He doesn't seem to have noticed, being distracted by the arrival of Lady Eleanor. The praetor nods politely and makes herself comfortable opposite him. Both are the picture of propriety. Amelia risks trying the same trick on her sire and is not disappointed. An orange halo, mottled and shifting with darker brown specks appears around him.

"You're not bad at that."

She shifts her attention to Eleanor, and gently swirling pale blue and stormy grey with bright flashes of silver are her reward.

"That's perfect. You got everything that time. She's bored, that's the very pale blue. She has seen it all before. That dark thunder grey is always there. She's been in that funk for years, but all this business with you and Wolf-Dietrich cuts her. Girl still has daddy issues. That's the silver. You make her sad, kid. Stop staring now or she'll notice."

A pretty woman with a heart shaped face takes a seat a little under halfway down the table. She's the first to pay Amelia much attention. Her eyes cut into Amelia, who has a job keeping her focus. The woman's aura is a riot of black red and brown, shifting and turning like a kaleidoscope. Nauseated, Amelia looks down at her own folded hands.

As the prince enters, everybody stands. He directs them to sit as he sits and casts his eyes down the table.

"Welcome all of you. Let's keep this brief." He gestures to a portly middle-aged man seated beside Eleanor. "Ladislaus?"

The man stands and clears his throat noisily. "All negotiations with the tremere ambassador are concluded. From midwinter, no kindred will set foot in any cemetery within the city walls. This judgement will be enforced with the most comprehensive rigour, on pain of banishment or final death."

A low murmur ripples through the gathered kindred.

"Let the dead keep to the dead then," Rudolphus scoffs, "Only this will not go well among the low orders. Slim pickings within the city walls."

"Such a simple perspective." Eleanor replies. "Some would see the opportunity that comes with such necessity, and make the best of it."

The ensuing noise quickly dissipates as Ladislaus clears his throat again. "The domains once granted to the recently disgraced shall be severally distributed to the clans of the city for the common good. Within them, the sheriff shall make good provision for both visitors and unfortunates alike, subject to formal acceptance."

A generally more positive response is quickly cut off by a sharp rejoinder from Wolf-Dietrich.

"Anyone foolish enough to draw attention to the church of St. Stephen will be interred at His Majesty's pleasure. It has been nearly impossible to stave off the attention of the Society of Leopold, and moreover, the justiciary."

Solemn silence greets this announcement. Even Rudolphus has no retort. The prince seems distracted. He glances across to a timepiece on the wall, then back across to Eleanor as she nods to Ladislaus.

Ladislaus continues, "Our virtues guide us. We must never hold each other above reproach." He pauses as many of the gathered kindred bow their heads.

"Can you feel the secrets?" Felix mutters. "Any one of them thinks it could be them for the chop. Can you feel the fear?"

"Catherine." Ladislaus clears his throat as the pretty woman stares at him malevolently. "I'm afraid that your achievements, though ever appreciated, have been recently eclipsed by your brazen wastefulness. In these lean times every clan asset must be carefully accounted for, and I am afraid that as a result of your reckless behaviour, the clan has lost a great deal of respect for you. Let it be so recorded."

You could hear a pin drop.

The prince stands, and the gathered clan members hurriedly rise with him.

"Thank you Ladislaus, ladies, gentlemen, I call this meeting to a close."

En masse the clan bow their heads as the prince takes his leave, and one by one make their own way out.

Catherine stands there, her face inscrutable and as Rudolphus makes his way around to her, she shakes her head and rushes away.

"Slip away from here girl." Felix says urgently. "Find a shadow out in the hallway. Hurry."

"Alright. But I'd rather head back to my cell if it's all the same..."

"Shh. Trust Felix. I said I'd keep you safe."

She tucks herself into an alcove.

"Now listen kid. Feel the blood, and feel the shadows. They just want to be together, no? Do you feel it? I know you do. They can keep you hidden. They can keep you safe."

She feels a muffled blanket descend, wrapping itself around her everything beyond it feels unreal.

"Good girl. Now keep to the shadows. I'm not taking any chances. Head to Wolf-Dietrich's parlour and hide there. Trust me."

"Felix, I wish I could trust you, I really do, but can't you just tell me what's going on? Wouldn't that be..."

"Go." He hisses. "Before it's too late."

Silently she steals through the warren of passages until she finds the right door. She lets herself in and finds a spot to hide behind a curtain. The only light in the room comes from the embers in the grate, and a little oil lamp on the desk.

"See... I do trust you. I'm just confused now, if he finds me he'll be so angry..."

"Shh..." he breathes.

The door swings open. Wolf-Dietrich is alone. He closes it a little too firmly and sits at his desk, head in his hands.

"What do you see?" Felix asks.

She daren't answer. For all her fear she sees a lonely old man. A frightened person. And it's obvious she can no more succeed as Wolf-Dietrich's childe than she could as Franz's wife.

Catherine enters the room without knocking. She's still in a state of distress, but hides it well.

"You could have just sent for me. I would always come. Why summon me as you would a servant?"

"As ever, you cannot open your mouth without digging yourself a deeper hole."

She takes a seat opposite him. The discordance between her riotous aura and her controlled bearing is dizzying. Amelia shakes her head and blocks it out.

"She's a sick little bitch make no mistake." Felix mutters. "You'd think it was this twisted bastard that did it to her but no. She was like this before he went anywhere near her. Heh."

"You're all wound around her little finger, she even has the prince simpering after her." Catherine says, words dripping with malice. "She has you all figured out. I won't stand for this, mark my words there will be blood."

"It's not your place to interfere!" He slams his hand down on the table.

Catherine flinches, but isn't intimidated for long.

"I have time. I can wait. I won't be usurped by some dew eyed witch who's not fit to kiss my arse. You always underestimate me." The pretty woman smirks.

"Don't presume to know my reasons, childe. You serve your purpose, she will serve hers."

"How can I let this go?" she hisses. "She's humiliated me now! It's a disgrace."

"Let it go. You made the mistake. What good can come of setting yourself against your sister in blood? It's over."

"Are you out of your mind? That's not a predator, that's not a vampire, what the hell were you even thinking? You think she's worthy of the gift, you make it cheap." She stands and he snaps at her.

"I'm not finished with you."

She sits slowly back down.

"You're not a childe, Catherine, but neither are you the kindred I hoped you could be. You make an enemy of me, and you will regret it."

She lowers her eyes and bows her head.

"You'll punish her. Of course you will, sire. You'll teach her." She almost sounds chastened. Almost.

He doesn't correct her.

"I want to see it." There's a lust in her words that she can't disguise.

"I'm sure you do." Wolf-Dietrich scowls. "But you would never agree to my terms." He sits back and folds his arms, the ghost of a smile flits across his lips.

"How so?" She frowns.

"You would have to agree to leave her in peace until after her trials are over. No more foolish games, no more attacks, it is beneath you, and it harms us all to make these little rivalries public."

"How...? I mean in secret?"

"What? How will I punish her?" He smirks. He clearly knows Catherine. She's hanging on his every word now. "Well, a good thrashing sounds like a start doesn't it? We're not savages after all. One has to temper these lessons with understanding. I could brand her. I like the sound of that. It's the frenzy you see? Losing control? That's the real penalty." He strokes his beard thoughtfully and watches Catherine engrossed in her own fantasy. "A week of confinement should be enough. And I don't see the harm in allowing you a little pleasure, so long as I'm sure you know your place?"

"How do you mean?" She bristles.

"You still think you've done nothing wrong. Incredible."

"You were playing with me." She scowls again. "It's just a game to you as always."

"Come now. Should I really beat her for having the self control you wish you'd had?" He shakes his head. "Pathetic."

"You speak as though I should still care what you think of me. It's a joke. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"You listen to me." His voice changes. Her bearing changes. Her mouth opens a fraction and her eyes glaze over. "You will not trouble your sister in blood. You will do nothing to endanger her wellbeing. You will do nothing to damage her status, or mine. You will behave yourself, is that clear?"

"Yes sire."

"You will set the best example you can to her of how a good citizen of Vienna should behave. You will earn her admiration and respect because that will make you admired and respected, which is it's own reward, you ungrateful, vapid, wrathful slut. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sire."

"Good." He lets her go. "I can see your reasoning Catherine. I see why you consider her unworthy. She is soft, I grant you." The tension melts from Catherine's body. "We'll take the lesson in the little dungeon out behind the stables. You can make the preparations for me, if it's not beneath you."

"Sire?" She sounds groggy.

Felix groans theatrically. "How is he so stupid? He put all that emphasis on getting her to behave and now this?"

"Stocks. Yes. Make them solid ones with iron banding. And a sturdy gag of some sort. And a whip of some kind, not too brutal, a tawse or willow or something."

"Sire," she breathes huskily, "A brazier?"

"Of course." He smiles beatifically. "Have it all ready within the hour. Run along."

She scurries away with a hurried bow. Wolf-Dietrich shakes his head.

"Really." He stands and paces for a minute. "As if she'll ever learn." He smiles and closes his eyes. A minute later, a rather handsome young man knocks hesitantly at his door.

"Splendid. You are magnificent."

"I... I am?"

"I have a task for you that you might find distasteful, but I have every confidence you can get it done."

"Yes sir. Tonight sir?"

"Perfect. Let's have you in uniform, captain. Full works, polish your brass buttons and all." He glances at his pocket watch. "Just over an hour from now, in the gun room of the old barracks behind the stables."

The man makes a hurried salute and rushes out. Wolf-Dietrich follows a few minutes later.

"So I'm lost." Amelia admits. "I honestly have no idea what he's doing. This is mad."

"Do you want to see what he does to Catherine? It could be fun."

"This is about as far away from fun..."

"Up to you." He sniffs. "Even I didn't see it coming. He's a dirty bastard."

She sneaks out of the room listening all the while for voices or footsteps.

"Just wait... you're suggesting that I spy on whatever he's about to do to Catherine? If anyone catches me..."

"I'm going. You can come or not..."

"And she's the one who sent the servant to me and tried to make me kill him? She's the one who made the prince think I'd murdered someone?"

Felix tuts.

"Not murder. They're all murderers. She accused you of breaching the Prince's domain. Of hunting where you're not allowed and destroying clan property."

"And now..."

"And now she's about to learn not to fuck with her sire. You know you're mine, right?"

Amelia sighs. "I suppose so."

"Well you are."

She feels a warmth in her chest. A delicious sense of well-being a little like she's had some really strong brandy.

"I know... but you're cruel sometimes, and you leave me in his power, I..."

"You're mine. We use these bastards as cover, but don't forget it. Never forget what you are."

"I don't know how long I can do this."

"It will get easier. Come on. Let's just watch the first part. I need to see her face when she finally figures it out and then we can go."

*

Catherine's rushing down the path with a bundle of firewood as Amelia arrives. Wolf-Dietrich is sitting on a low stool watching her work. When everything is ready he gestures for her to kneel before him. She hesitates of course.

"I understand if you can't bring yourself to do it. It's really only necessary to make a show of contrition if you want to watch. As I said before, I never thought you were capable of that."

She sets her jaw as she kneels before him. "Why do you need to do it like this? You want to put me in my place? My place is not so low."

"Please woman, listen." And just like that she is back under his spell. "It's an act. You play the part you need to play in order to win. Just like before, you know? You were magnificent in the war. No-one could fault your dedication. Open your mouth."

He sets the cruel gag between her teeth and smiles. Its barbed metal mouthpiece is chain linked to a heavy leather strap.,

"They see you for the part you play, and it's only when the time is right that you reveal yourself. So smart. So convincing. You can easily do it yourself can't you? Keep your eyes on mine and fasten the armour behind your head. Speaking could really get you into trouble, so best remain silent for now."

Amelia watches in fascination as Catherine complies. He keeps his voice relaxed and calm.

"Sometimes you doubt my intelligence, I know. You want me to do this properly, so we'll make sure those heavy stocks will hold my little fledgeling so she can learn her place. You show me now."

The bar comes down with a crack that snaps Catherine out of her stupor but it's far too late.

She squeals in indignation as Wolf-Dietrich laughs.

"I would advise you not to burn through all your vitae. You're here for a week and I have no plans to have you fed."

She stops struggling wildly and begins to systematically test her bonds.

"Now then." He strokes her hair. "You set the trap very firmly. I have every faith in your abilities. It's just your attitude that needs adjusting."

He flips up her skirts and she begins squealing and struggling again. "I remember the first time I heard about you. Your nephew had condemned you to die alone in that tower, I'm sure you recall. I'm a sentimental old fool. It reminded me of my own mortal plight." He rests his hand in the cleft of her buttocks and she stops struggling. "But it's always been different for women. Hasn't it Catherine?"

She nods tearfully. And the sound she makes has a distinctly pleading edge as he slides a hand down her legs to seperate them, and chains them spread to the stocks.

"Dear me, I have no desire to breach the old fortress. You need have no fear of that... from me at least. It's just that you kick like a mule. Are you ready for your stripes?"

She squares her hips, balling her hands into fists. He laughs.

"The common women used to tell stories of you. They were too afraid to go near your cell. You had a man flogged to death every day throughout lent or was that an exaggeration? Was it one man, flogged every day throughout lent, even after the poor bastard had died? I honestly can't recall."

He unfurls a monstrous whip from the inside of his jacket and holds it where she can see it. "In any case. I am done with you. You are well past learning anything that I can teach you. The chances are you'll be just as wicked after this ordeal as before. Ah. Here he comes."

Wolf-Dietrich walks out to meet the young captain, and Catherine redoubles her futile efforts to free herself.

"Beat her soundly for an hour at nightfall, an hour at midnight, and an hour at daybreak. What you do in-between is your own business. Here's the key. Open the stocks on Sunday."

"Sir... yes sir."

"I'm sure this goes without saying, but don't put it in her mouth or it will be the last thing you do."

"This is monstrous." Breathes Amelia. "I don't want to watch this, Felix."

"Suit yourself. Probably for the best. Your cell is likely to be his next port of call."

*

In fact he summons her to his parlour at the stroke of midnight. She stands quietly awaiting his attention as he scribes in a large leather bound tome. After a time he sits back in his chair with a sigh.

"The first tradition we know as The Masquerade." He doesn't look at her. He blots the page carefully before turning it. "Thou shalt reveal thy true nature only to those of the blood. Do otherwise, and renounce any claim to the blood." He lifts his quill again. "Consider those words carefully. Especially in light of recent events."

"Sire, can there never be peace between us? What am I that my very presence offends..."