FIC: Inheritance, Part 3/?
Sep. 27th, 2005 02:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartThis is the last part of Inheritance's first page, following the previous post directly.
Note: I've always wondered what caused the strong enmity between Archon Raine and the Manzanita Brujah. Canon never told us anything about it. So I tried my own approach - it could be as good as any, I guess.
The appearance of a new player made Archon Raine realize that he’d underestimated his mortal business adversary. None of his spies had alerted him for the existence of a financially strong partner backing the Sorrels – and yet here she was.
And man, did she have a presence!
She had that kid of exotic, utterly sensuous beauty that only daughters of old Hispanic families possessed, and only when they had a little Indio blood in their veins: a petite, slender figure that was yet pleasantly rounded in all the right places, a fine-boned, oval face with high cheekbones, a luscious red mouth, wide coffee-brown eyes and a thick mane of lush, wavy mahogany hair that she’d tied up to bring her long neck to the best effect. She wore a black dress of almost embarrassingly simple design – the sort that actually cost a stellar sum in the most expensive boutiques of the city – with a cream-coloured silk shawl around her bare shoulders and an antique golden ring with a small, white diamond on her slender, long-fingered hand. Most other women would have ruined the effect with additional jewellery, but she seemed to know exactly what suited her best.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said in a low, sensuous voice and extended her hand in a manner that made it abundantly clear that she accepted it to be kissed. Old-fashioned as he was, Archon obeyed. “I’m Valeria Annunciata de Venango y Velez, I assume the name rings a bell, si?”
It did indeed. The Velez riches were legendary. The girl – she couldn’t be much elder than twenty – could have bought him out of his every single business and ruin the Luna winery without breaking a sweat. Especially as – since the recent unfortunate accident of her half-brother – she now owned everything that had ever belonged to her family.
And Archon had the vague impression that she would be more than willing to crush them financially, if provoked. Although her strong heartbeat, her body heat and the intoxicating scent of her blood revealed her as human, she radiated a strong, almost primal wildness that was characteristically Brujah. How come that the Rabble hadn’t discovered her yet? Although she probably wouldn’t suit the mob that swarmed the docks of San Francisco nowadays. She reminded of what Clan Brujah had once been: warrior-poets, fierce fighters and lore-masters. Young rebels but also artisans of nearly Toreador propositions.
For his part, Archon was glad that most Brujah had long lost these nobler qualities. Becoming the mob, muscle-bound idiots, had made them weak. And Archon preferred them weak. The possibility of the Brujah arising from the gutter again made him nervous.
“May I ask what interests do you have with the Old Mission Winery, Miss Velez?” he asked with false benevolence. “Why would you risk any financial losses, just to support such an insignificant little family business?”
Valeria gave a deep, throaty laughter that made all males present shiver. Archon could smell Julian’s arousal, and that of Stevie Ray. The young Sorrel was emanating an entire cloud of pheromones, too, and Archon stomped down on his own interest ruthlessly. The girl was worse than a Toreador siren!
“Why?” Valeria repeated the question, amused. “Well, I do like a good challenge… but mostly, I’m protecting my own interests here. I happen to own thirty per cent of the Winery. Seňor Sorrel and my late father have been friends and business partners for many years; besides, he’s my godfather.” Which was an outright lie, but Valeria had recently detected that one shouldn’t let simple truths get into the way of success.
“I see,” Archon said slowly. “So, I guess I could not persuade you to sell me your percentage in the Winery, could I?”
“And allow you to have a foot in the door?” Valeria arched an elegant eyebrow. “Not a chance, seňor. I take family obligations very seriously. So, if I were you, I’d back off. Now.”
Stevie Ray growled quietly, and Archon could feel Julian’s rage brooding as well. That was not good. The insignificant Sorrels were one thing, but they couldn’t just kill the heiress of the Velez empire and hope that nobody would notice. On the other hand, there were other solutions. He could Embrace the girl… Dominate her into acceptance, and then secure her incredible wealth for himself.
‘Why so hostile?” he murmured in a singsong voice. “We can open negotiations about this thing… and about other business opportunities…”
He could feel that she wasn’t a resistor, not truly, but she did have a strong will nevertheless. Dominating her would he hard work, harder than he’d expected, more so since she seemed to have a strong aversion towards people who tried to force her to do anything. He signalled to Julian and Stevie Ray to keep the Sorrels out of his way. This would take time.
But just as he began to focus his powers on the girl, a deep, slightly rough baritone broke his concentration. “Valeria, don’t look him in the eyes! He’s trying to hypnotize you!”
His concentration broken, Archon turned around angrily, to see who’d dared to interfere. The newcomer was a large, dark-haired man, wearing casual clothes and a black duster. Slow, almost nonexistent heartbeat – a Kindred. But he had to be a powerful one, considering that he’d been able to conceal his presence from them. Who the hell could he be?
“Salvador!” Valeria squealed in delight and threw herself unceremoniously into the arms of the newcomer. “You’ve come back! It’s about time!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Surprised but also delighted over this heartfelt welcome, Salvador hugged Valeria tightly, kissing her brow, and let go of her again. He needed to keep his eyes on the Camarilla types. Antonio could take out one of the with the signal pistol – the lighting rockets worked better against vampires than any traditional projective weapon, igniting them on the spot – but that still left two for him. Unlike Antonio, who’d been a Brujah ghoul for more than thirty years, the Sorrels had no way to know how to fight the undead, and the ghoul girl he’d hired to serve as Valeria’s handmaid was nowhere to see. For the sake of the mortals, solving the situation without a battle would be better.
“Archon Raine, I presume,” he said calmly.
“That would be me,” the Ventrue Prince replied. “And you are…”
“Just passing through,” Salvador shrugged.”
“That could be... inconvenient,” Archon said slowly. “We don’t like unannounced players show up in our city… interfering with our business…”
“We are not exactly in the city,” Salvador answered evasively,” neither do I intend to get there… or stay here for any amount of time. I’ve come for Valeria.”
“You have?” Valeria asked, her delight obvious. “I can finally return to Los Angeles?”
Salvador nodded. “Alonzo is currently looking for a proper mansion – or an estate – for you. Until then, I’ve booked a suit in the Empire Hotel for you. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“Good,” Valeria said with emphasis. “I’ve overused the hospitality of the Sorrel’s already… Although it seems I couldn’t have come here at a better time. Can you do something so that these people cannot force them out of what is rightly theirs?”
“You don’t need me for that,” Salvador said. “That’s what you have your lawyers for. I’ll contact Phillipe Navital, once we’re in L.A. He’ll see to establish the necessary safeguards.”
He could see Archon’s head jerk in surprise. Phillipe Navital was a well-known lawyer In Kindred circles. Even other vampire lawyers avoided the confrontation with him in the courtroom if they could. Once he accepted a case, that case was practically won. Add the wealth of Valeria, and there was no way the Prince could bully his wish through the legal instances. Unless he wanted to risk breaking the Masquerade due to a violent, illegal action, all he could do was to back off.
Archon knew that too, of course. Salvador could see it on his stormy face. But a legal law firm – and one associated with the Camarilla, at that – could be a lot more dangerous for a Prince than any Anarch gang living within his Domain. It could ruin his public image, and that was something he couldn’t afford.
“I’ll have my lawyers contact Mr. Navital to work out a solution,” he said. But Sorrel Sr. shook his head.
“No interest, Seňor Raine. Please leave my property, now. You might own half the city and control the local mob, but you can’t frighten me. This winery has always belonged to our family, and so it shall remain.”
“There’s no need to exaggerate, Seňor Sorrel,” Salvador intervened smoothly. “Seňor Raine most certainly doesn’t control the local mob. The Rabble control themselves, isn’t that so, Seňor Raine?”
“Indeed,” Archon replied slowly.
Unlike the mortals, he could understand the subtle threat in the stranger’s seemingly peaceful effort to smooth the waves. Rabble, that was the nickname given to Clan Brujah by other Kindred, and although they were in the Camarilla in San Francisco – well, more or less – the Prince couldn’t really state that he controlled them. The local Brujah, mostly thugs and hitmen thy might be, only listened to their Primogen. If the Clan declared protection over a mortal, it meant bad news for anyone from any other Clan to touch that mortal. It could even lead to a Clan war, as many of the Rabble didn’t really care what the cause was, as long as it gave them the excuse for a good fight and a little bloodshed.
Therefore, routined politician as he was, Archon Raine decided for a strategic withdrawal. He hated to disappoint Julian, but the Winery was simply not worth to risk open fighting on the streets. This wasn’t the time for a Clan war, with the Anarch revolt barely stomped down. The Luna family will have to put up with the Sorrels a little longer.
“I still would think about it again, if I were you, Mr. Sorrel,” he said, in a manner that was practically admitting defeat. Then, turning to Salvador, he added. “As for you… I’d suggest that you leave the San Francisco are as soon as possible. You are not welcome here.”
“He’s always welcome in my house,” Sorrel Sr. prompted angrily, but Salvador raised a large hand to calm him down.
“That’s all right, Seňor Sorrel. I don’t intend to stay anyway,” he handed the man a card. “Should you experience any further… problems, call this person. Just tell him I’ve sent you, and he’ll know what to do to protect your family. Now, if you don’t mind, would you call Rosaria to help Seňorita Velez pack her suitcases?”
“Certainly, Seňor Garcia,” the older Sorrel nodded and hurried away, leaving his son behind to keep an eye on the visitors, just in case.
Archon Raine, already on his way to the door, turned back and glared at the Anarch as if he’d see an Antediluvian rising from torpor in the middle of the room.
“Salvador Garcia? You are Salvador Garcia?”
Salvador raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. “I see my reputation has preceded me. Yes, I am Salvador Garcia. Is that a problem for you?”
“You dare to set foot into my Domain?” Archon was so enraged that he became uncautious. “After all that you and your cronies have done in Barcelona?”
Salvador shrugged. “I’m not afraid of you, Archon… or of the ones like you. It rather seems that you are scared shitless of me and my compadres. But rest assured, I have no intention to enter your Domain or to challenge you. I’ve come for my protegée, and with her I shall leave as soon as I can. Try to stand in my way and you’ll suffer, even with your pet killers in tow.”
Archon was clearly fuming in the inside, but to his credit, he knew how to pick his fights. They couldn’t go for each other’s throats with all the mortals around them, not without breaking the Masquerade that the Prince was sworn to protect. In a sense, his hands were bound.
“You have six hours to leave,” he said sharply; then he added, for the younger Sorrel, before leaving, “This isn’t over yet, youngling. I’m a patient man. I can wait.”
~End of Part One~
As the next part isn't written yet, the next update can take some time.
Note: I've always wondered what caused the strong enmity between Archon Raine and the Manzanita Brujah. Canon never told us anything about it. So I tried my own approach - it could be as good as any, I guess.
The appearance of a new player made Archon Raine realize that he’d underestimated his mortal business adversary. None of his spies had alerted him for the existence of a financially strong partner backing the Sorrels – and yet here she was.
And man, did she have a presence!
She had that kid of exotic, utterly sensuous beauty that only daughters of old Hispanic families possessed, and only when they had a little Indio blood in their veins: a petite, slender figure that was yet pleasantly rounded in all the right places, a fine-boned, oval face with high cheekbones, a luscious red mouth, wide coffee-brown eyes and a thick mane of lush, wavy mahogany hair that she’d tied up to bring her long neck to the best effect. She wore a black dress of almost embarrassingly simple design – the sort that actually cost a stellar sum in the most expensive boutiques of the city – with a cream-coloured silk shawl around her bare shoulders and an antique golden ring with a small, white diamond on her slender, long-fingered hand. Most other women would have ruined the effect with additional jewellery, but she seemed to know exactly what suited her best.
“I don’t think we’ve met before,” she said in a low, sensuous voice and extended her hand in a manner that made it abundantly clear that she accepted it to be kissed. Old-fashioned as he was, Archon obeyed. “I’m Valeria Annunciata de Venango y Velez, I assume the name rings a bell, si?”
It did indeed. The Velez riches were legendary. The girl – she couldn’t be much elder than twenty – could have bought him out of his every single business and ruin the Luna winery without breaking a sweat. Especially as – since the recent unfortunate accident of her half-brother – she now owned everything that had ever belonged to her family.
And Archon had the vague impression that she would be more than willing to crush them financially, if provoked. Although her strong heartbeat, her body heat and the intoxicating scent of her blood revealed her as human, she radiated a strong, almost primal wildness that was characteristically Brujah. How come that the Rabble hadn’t discovered her yet? Although she probably wouldn’t suit the mob that swarmed the docks of San Francisco nowadays. She reminded of what Clan Brujah had once been: warrior-poets, fierce fighters and lore-masters. Young rebels but also artisans of nearly Toreador propositions.
For his part, Archon was glad that most Brujah had long lost these nobler qualities. Becoming the mob, muscle-bound idiots, had made them weak. And Archon preferred them weak. The possibility of the Brujah arising from the gutter again made him nervous.
“May I ask what interests do you have with the Old Mission Winery, Miss Velez?” he asked with false benevolence. “Why would you risk any financial losses, just to support such an insignificant little family business?”
Valeria gave a deep, throaty laughter that made all males present shiver. Archon could smell Julian’s arousal, and that of Stevie Ray. The young Sorrel was emanating an entire cloud of pheromones, too, and Archon stomped down on his own interest ruthlessly. The girl was worse than a Toreador siren!
“Why?” Valeria repeated the question, amused. “Well, I do like a good challenge… but mostly, I’m protecting my own interests here. I happen to own thirty per cent of the Winery. Seňor Sorrel and my late father have been friends and business partners for many years; besides, he’s my godfather.” Which was an outright lie, but Valeria had recently detected that one shouldn’t let simple truths get into the way of success.
“I see,” Archon said slowly. “So, I guess I could not persuade you to sell me your percentage in the Winery, could I?”
“And allow you to have a foot in the door?” Valeria arched an elegant eyebrow. “Not a chance, seňor. I take family obligations very seriously. So, if I were you, I’d back off. Now.”
Stevie Ray growled quietly, and Archon could feel Julian’s rage brooding as well. That was not good. The insignificant Sorrels were one thing, but they couldn’t just kill the heiress of the Velez empire and hope that nobody would notice. On the other hand, there were other solutions. He could Embrace the girl… Dominate her into acceptance, and then secure her incredible wealth for himself.
‘Why so hostile?” he murmured in a singsong voice. “We can open negotiations about this thing… and about other business opportunities…”
He could feel that she wasn’t a resistor, not truly, but she did have a strong will nevertheless. Dominating her would he hard work, harder than he’d expected, more so since she seemed to have a strong aversion towards people who tried to force her to do anything. He signalled to Julian and Stevie Ray to keep the Sorrels out of his way. This would take time.
But just as he began to focus his powers on the girl, a deep, slightly rough baritone broke his concentration. “Valeria, don’t look him in the eyes! He’s trying to hypnotize you!”
His concentration broken, Archon turned around angrily, to see who’d dared to interfere. The newcomer was a large, dark-haired man, wearing casual clothes and a black duster. Slow, almost nonexistent heartbeat – a Kindred. But he had to be a powerful one, considering that he’d been able to conceal his presence from them. Who the hell could he be?
“Salvador!” Valeria squealed in delight and threw herself unceremoniously into the arms of the newcomer. “You’ve come back! It’s about time!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Surprised but also delighted over this heartfelt welcome, Salvador hugged Valeria tightly, kissing her brow, and let go of her again. He needed to keep his eyes on the Camarilla types. Antonio could take out one of the with the signal pistol – the lighting rockets worked better against vampires than any traditional projective weapon, igniting them on the spot – but that still left two for him. Unlike Antonio, who’d been a Brujah ghoul for more than thirty years, the Sorrels had no way to know how to fight the undead, and the ghoul girl he’d hired to serve as Valeria’s handmaid was nowhere to see. For the sake of the mortals, solving the situation without a battle would be better.
“Archon Raine, I presume,” he said calmly.
“That would be me,” the Ventrue Prince replied. “And you are…”
“Just passing through,” Salvador shrugged.”
“That could be... inconvenient,” Archon said slowly. “We don’t like unannounced players show up in our city… interfering with our business…”
“We are not exactly in the city,” Salvador answered evasively,” neither do I intend to get there… or stay here for any amount of time. I’ve come for Valeria.”
“You have?” Valeria asked, her delight obvious. “I can finally return to Los Angeles?”
Salvador nodded. “Alonzo is currently looking for a proper mansion – or an estate – for you. Until then, I’ve booked a suit in the Empire Hotel for you. You’ll like it, I promise.”
“Good,” Valeria said with emphasis. “I’ve overused the hospitality of the Sorrel’s already… Although it seems I couldn’t have come here at a better time. Can you do something so that these people cannot force them out of what is rightly theirs?”
“You don’t need me for that,” Salvador said. “That’s what you have your lawyers for. I’ll contact Phillipe Navital, once we’re in L.A. He’ll see to establish the necessary safeguards.”
He could see Archon’s head jerk in surprise. Phillipe Navital was a well-known lawyer In Kindred circles. Even other vampire lawyers avoided the confrontation with him in the courtroom if they could. Once he accepted a case, that case was practically won. Add the wealth of Valeria, and there was no way the Prince could bully his wish through the legal instances. Unless he wanted to risk breaking the Masquerade due to a violent, illegal action, all he could do was to back off.
Archon knew that too, of course. Salvador could see it on his stormy face. But a legal law firm – and one associated with the Camarilla, at that – could be a lot more dangerous for a Prince than any Anarch gang living within his Domain. It could ruin his public image, and that was something he couldn’t afford.
“I’ll have my lawyers contact Mr. Navital to work out a solution,” he said. But Sorrel Sr. shook his head.
“No interest, Seňor Raine. Please leave my property, now. You might own half the city and control the local mob, but you can’t frighten me. This winery has always belonged to our family, and so it shall remain.”
“There’s no need to exaggerate, Seňor Sorrel,” Salvador intervened smoothly. “Seňor Raine most certainly doesn’t control the local mob. The Rabble control themselves, isn’t that so, Seňor Raine?”
“Indeed,” Archon replied slowly.
Unlike the mortals, he could understand the subtle threat in the stranger’s seemingly peaceful effort to smooth the waves. Rabble, that was the nickname given to Clan Brujah by other Kindred, and although they were in the Camarilla in San Francisco – well, more or less – the Prince couldn’t really state that he controlled them. The local Brujah, mostly thugs and hitmen thy might be, only listened to their Primogen. If the Clan declared protection over a mortal, it meant bad news for anyone from any other Clan to touch that mortal. It could even lead to a Clan war, as many of the Rabble didn’t really care what the cause was, as long as it gave them the excuse for a good fight and a little bloodshed.
Therefore, routined politician as he was, Archon Raine decided for a strategic withdrawal. He hated to disappoint Julian, but the Winery was simply not worth to risk open fighting on the streets. This wasn’t the time for a Clan war, with the Anarch revolt barely stomped down. The Luna family will have to put up with the Sorrels a little longer.
“I still would think about it again, if I were you, Mr. Sorrel,” he said, in a manner that was practically admitting defeat. Then, turning to Salvador, he added. “As for you… I’d suggest that you leave the San Francisco are as soon as possible. You are not welcome here.”
“He’s always welcome in my house,” Sorrel Sr. prompted angrily, but Salvador raised a large hand to calm him down.
“That’s all right, Seňor Sorrel. I don’t intend to stay anyway,” he handed the man a card. “Should you experience any further… problems, call this person. Just tell him I’ve sent you, and he’ll know what to do to protect your family. Now, if you don’t mind, would you call Rosaria to help Seňorita Velez pack her suitcases?”
“Certainly, Seňor Garcia,” the older Sorrel nodded and hurried away, leaving his son behind to keep an eye on the visitors, just in case.
Archon Raine, already on his way to the door, turned back and glared at the Anarch as if he’d see an Antediluvian rising from torpor in the middle of the room.
“Salvador Garcia? You are Salvador Garcia?”
Salvador raised an eyebrow nonchalantly. “I see my reputation has preceded me. Yes, I am Salvador Garcia. Is that a problem for you?”
“You dare to set foot into my Domain?” Archon was so enraged that he became uncautious. “After all that you and your cronies have done in Barcelona?”
Salvador shrugged. “I’m not afraid of you, Archon… or of the ones like you. It rather seems that you are scared shitless of me and my compadres. But rest assured, I have no intention to enter your Domain or to challenge you. I’ve come for my protegée, and with her I shall leave as soon as I can. Try to stand in my way and you’ll suffer, even with your pet killers in tow.”
Archon was clearly fuming in the inside, but to his credit, he knew how to pick his fights. They couldn’t go for each other’s throats with all the mortals around them, not without breaking the Masquerade that the Prince was sworn to protect. In a sense, his hands were bound.
“You have six hours to leave,” he said sharply; then he added, for the younger Sorrel, before leaving, “This isn’t over yet, youngling. I’m a patient man. I can wait.”
~End of Part One~
As the next part isn't written yet, the next update can take some time.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-27 03:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2005-09-27 06:17 pm (UTC)Now, there are two major trends among the Kindred vampires. The Camarilla is all for the Masquerade, and the Prince of a city enforces the protection of it with fairly harsh methods. The Sabbat are the exact opposite: they consider humans no more than cattle, and can't care less what mortals know or think. Then there are the Anarch vampires, who keep the Masquerade, more or less, but are more easy with it, and they don't accept the authority of the Princes.
Now, Los Angeles was for a very long time canonically an Anarch Free State, which means, it didn't have a Prince, just various territories divided between the individual Anarch gangs. The game canon changed in the last couple of days, as I've discovered just a few weeks ago, but I decided to ignore those changes. I prefer the old ideas.