7. Amber Hart, once more again
Luke's infection is taken care of, and that means Amber can get back to the things she actually cares about - like attending to Siveri, and letting him know that his task is complete. And maybe looking for weaknesses. Fortunately, as his personal assistant, she has ready access to his calendar, making both finding and plotting against him an easy affair.
The Grand Wyndham Hotel is a fixture of the Manhattan geography. Though not a towering skyscraper, it has a certain distinctive class visible even from the exterior of the building. And that impression is only magnified when one enters the lobby.
Amber's heels click against the stone and the surprisingly busy assemblage of guests pay the young, professionally dressed woman no mind. She blends in perfectly here in her grey pencil skirt and fitted white dress shirt. When she approaches the counter, the member of the staff there inclines his head politely. He's dressed impeccably, in a dark suit perfectly tailored to his thin frame, and the perfect shade to set off his dusky skin. When she identifies who she works for, he places a single call, listens for a few moments, then smiles at Amber and leads her through tastefully appointed hallways.
Their destination, a simple meeting room tucked away on the first floor of the hotel, is decorated in calming colors, despite the overall professional layout of the room. Siveri sits across a dark wood table from a Latina woman with her hair done up in a complicated style. Her dress looks straight out of the 1800s, and she's evaluating Siveri with the cold eyes of the dead - clearly another vampire. Seated at the head of the table is another man. A small part of Amber's mind can recognize he might be as good looking as Siveri - but no, that's just a trick of the light. His features certainly aren't as fine, his eyes not as intense. He looks young, maybe a few years older than Amber, and it takes her a second to realize he, too, is dead. His mask is incredibly good, all the little tics and habits in place even in a room populated only by vampires. While his black suit likely cost more than a luxury car, he somehow manages to wear it casually. This man looks up at her entrance and nods to the front desk clerk, giving him a little wink. The clerk chuckles and nods politely to Amber before closing the door behind her.
The woman, for her part, barely glances at Amber before continuing to speak. "That's immaterial, Don Siveri. We will have to move and soon." Siveri, relaxed and in control as always, taps a finger against the table idly.
"Dona Dominguez..." His lips linger on the name like he was tasting its quality. "I understand your concern. And I'm willing to handle the issue for the benefit of us both, but you must understand that things aren't quite as simple as in the old days."
Dominguez snorts disdainfully. "Men in this new era have no steel in their spines. This is not news to me. But I was unaware that affliction had spread to you, Don."
Amber knows when she's outmatched. This is not a situation which her concerns should trump, but neither has she been dismissed, which means her presence is not unwelcome. She takes a silent seat at Silvari's right hand, placing the notepad in front of her and listening attentively without interrupting. Don. That's a new title for Siveri she hasn't heard used before. Interesting.
Siveri sighs. "Dona, one cannot simply ride out and break the spines of those who offend one anymore. This is an age for subtlety, for light touches. If you wish for me to dispose of the problem, then I will do it my way." And there's the hint of danger under his calm exterior, the little thrill it sends through Amber feels somehow indecent. "Those are my terms, as well as payment in the normal way."
Dona Dominguez looks mutinous, but gestures with one hand. "Very well, Siveri. You always were a stubborn one. Take care of these puta lawyers, and leave them breathing if you must."
Siveri's lips turn up in the shade of a smile at that. It's a small victory, and likely one in a very long war, but he notes it all the same. Then Siveri turns to Amber and acknowledges her for the first time since she entered the room. "Miss Hart, Dona Isabella Dominguez de Leon. A very old friend of mine. Dona, Amber Hart, my new assistant." Then he gestures to the man sitting at the head of the table. "And this is our host, Lord Theodore Wyndham."
Lord Wyndham grimaces and waves a hand. "Oh god. Theo, please. No one since my Second Mother called me Theodore." He drops a megawatt smile on Amber, far more sincere than Luke. "A pleasure, Miss Hart."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Theo," she responds in kind, with an already-taken smile not so brilliant as his, but not cold or immune to his attention. "Dona Dominguez," she acknowledges with a head-bow, the reversed order either a reference to his status as host, or a subtle nod to Silvari's small victory. Perhaps both. Lord Wyndham sits back in his seat, his answering wink to Amber framed perfectly to give the playful message that he understood, but that won't stop him from having a little fun either.
Dona Dominguez, by contrast, fixes Amber with an imperious look and nods back, much shallower than Amber's. "Thank you for the use of your home, Lord Wyndham." She says with stiff formality to their host, who smiles and gestures broadly.
"Such is my duty as host. It's been a pleasure, Dona. If you need anything at all, please let Mr. Cousins know. We've saved a bit of your favorite vintage."
The Dona finally cracks a smile at this. "Fresh?"
"From the vein," Lord Wyndham confirms with a nod. He stands to get the door for the Dona and after she walks through with all the grace of a departing Empress, sticks his head back in the room. "Feel free to use the room for the rest of the night if you need to confer with your assistant, Don Siveri." He takes a moment to give Amber a polite once-over now that he's no longer conducting a meeting. "And please, Don, Miss Hart, don't be a stranger." And with that, the door closes and they're left alone.
The Grand Wyndham Hotel
One of the fanciest, while tastefully understated, hotels in New York. The Wyndham hosts princes and tycoons alike, all in the absolute lap of luxury and with the finest service money can buy.
The Wyndham is known for its absolute devotion to standards of hospitality, service, and the protection of its clients. There are rumors that some of the guests in the Wyndham have been there for years now, knowing that hostile parties will be kept at bay by the hotel's fearsome security, while they can enjoy their days in the comfort of the hotel's warm hospitality.
Siveri, for his part, remains seated, fingers steepled and dark eyes staring ahead in contemplation. "Tell me your impression of Dona Dominguez and Lord Wyndham. The room is not bugged and no one will be listening. Wyndham would rather watch the sunrise than violate his sacred oaths."
Amber looks after the departing pair. Confer with his assistant indeed. It's not why she came here, and though she ought to be a bit offended at the implication that she was chosen for her body, she instead finds herself a confused mix of flattered and... she pulls herself from her thoughts, and takes a moment to organize them on the subject of the two departed powers. "The Dona will watch your interactions closely, looking for an excuse to prove your way insufficient. Lord Wyndham leans in your direction at the moment, despite his words to the contrary." It's nothing he won't already have figured out herself, but she can hardly be blamed for that, having had less than a minute to observe.
"Correct." Even this fairly neutral praise threatens to set Amber smiling broadly. "Wyndham is barely older than you, and he understands - Dona Dominguez is still unused to the modern world. She came to me, despite being perfectly capable of doing things 'her way.'" A chuckle. "She knows she's out of her depth now. Vulnerable. And if you can't trust your old and faithful enemies, who can you trust?"
"You could choose to trust people who aren't your enemies," she offers a subversion of expectations by playing it straight. "Was... ahem. Was the Dona's choice of words about spreading a reference to my own project?"
"It's possible, but unlikely." He nods in approval of her thinking. "She thinks most often in straight lines, but it does well to never underestimate a woman as formidable as the Dona." Siveri turns to look at Amber head-on. "But you came here for a reason. Old business before new. And there will be new." He promises with a hint of playful threat in his voice.
"Of course," she murmurs, before clearing her throat again and resuming her professional tone. "Luke Gray was the carrier. I convinced him to purge his vitae, then prevented him from killing anyone as he recovered from the ordeal. As far as I was able to determine, no one beyond his immediate herd was infected, and with his cooperation, they should all recover without spreading it further. One Carlos Jimenez was seriously ill last time I spoke with him, and I have not inquired if he's since recovered or died. Luke does not seem to care for mortals beyond his own comfort, but he understood the need to maintain a low profile, and spreading sickness would have inconvenienced him." She adds an inflection of dislike to Luke's name and activities, emphasizing it more than she truly feels. If Siveri wanted to set them at each other's throats, and she believes he did, there's no reason to let him know that part of his plan wasn't a success.
Siveri nods thoughtfully. "Good. Then you resolved the matter without violence or collateral damage. Just as I expected you to." He graces Amber with a rare genuine smile, and his approval feels like stepping into a hot shower. "I wanted to see how you would interact with one of our kind, especially one not so... genteel as you or I. And you acquitted yourself well." His eyes pierce Amber like a blade, evaluating her with effortless authority. It would be disturbing if it wasn't so enticing. "It's good that you came here directly; I was planning to bring this matter to you anyway. How do you feel about gentrification?"
She unconsciously licks her lips her head at his praise, but catches the gesture as it completes, wondering where it came from. She doesn't have unconscious gestures anymore. Except apparently around him. "Gentrification?" Her eyebrows rise. Not exactly something she'd expected to be concerned with after her premature and non-final death. "It usually moves around a problem rather than solving it. States or cities can win or lose, but for the country as a whole it's value-neutral or negative. The displaced don't just disappear."
"Dona Dominguez is... a rare breed among our kind. She has a family. Not her original living relatives, of course - they're long dead and gone. But brothers, sisters, cousins, all had children of their own, so on. And they know what she is. Even now she acts as a sort of... eternal matriarch. I tell you this because the issue she wishes us to solve involves members of her mortal family. Their homes, and therefore Dona Dominguez's haven from the sun and simple network of blood, are at risk. When she awoke, her grandchildren, as she calls them, asked for her help. Even disoriented from the sleep of the ages, the Dona knew better than to charge off and rip heads from shoulders." Siveri gestures to Amber. "And that is where we come in."
Her thoughts immediately center on Kenna. Lovely, sweet, innocent. Amber too would do anything to protect the remnants of might-have beens, mortal blood that... she wrenches her thoughts away from the girl she left behind, that she hasn't spoken to in nearly a year, and smooths down her face. Siveri can't know about her. "They haven't done well for themselves, I take it," she nods in understanding. "Does the Dona hold particular attachment to their home, as well as the people?"
"It's unclear, but I imagine it doesn't make a practical difference. She'd want the company trying to buy up the property destroyed and the earth salted behind them on principle now."
"I suppose that puts a stop to the simple solution of buying them a new home," Amber sighs, leaning back in her chair and stretching her legs out under the table, stretching her arms up over her head. "Do you have a preference for how to deal with it?" She'd need more information to even begin to formulate a plan, but if he already knows what he wants done, that could save her some legwork.
"A solution that will stick against potential recurrence and that won't cause undue questions. I'd prefer legal, but can work with otherwise. Unless you absolutely have to, no violence. Do no more than is necessary to secure their homes - let the Dona arrange revenge on her own time." He leans forward, close enough that Amber can feel a bit of pressure from his breath. "Can you handle it, Amber?"
"Of course," she lowers her arms as he leans in, but doesn't sit up straight, an electric tingle running up her spine as he looks down at her. She meets his eyes for a moment, then looks away before it grows too intense. "I'll start work on it right away."
Cold fingers take her chin and gently force her gaze back up to meet his eyes. "I knew I could count on you." Comes the soft murmur.
"Of course." Her heart doesn't pound. That's a thing for prey, and she's not prey. Not anymore. She's... she's something here, but not prey. She puts her pen down, draws her hands together over her belly, waiting to see what he wants from her. What will he take from her this time?
Fingers run through Amber's hair slowly, almost contemplatively. "Who did you feed on with Luke?" He asks softly. His other hand trails gently down Amber's side, a constant little pressure that never lets her forget its presence while not pushing too insistently.
"Her name is Carissa. I met her at the party. Very innocent," she explains, remembering their encounter, and remembering the lies afterwards. "She was part of my plan, but I decided to protected her at the last moment," she feels compelled to admit that softness got the better of her.
"Why?"
"She... she didn't deserve to be used like that." Like I'm being used.
Siveri's fingers make their way down Amber's hip. "And will you be seeing Carissa again?" He asks, tone unreadable.
"If she seeks me out." A moment's pause, acutely aware of his fingers on her clothes, on her. "Probably."
Cold fingers finally touch cold skin as he reaches the thigh exposed below Amber's skirt. "And what will you do if Luke Gray tries to use her as a weak point against you, Amber?"
"I don't know," she admits. The thought hadn't occurred to her in the slightest. She hadn't considered the girl a point of weakness, because, well, she isn't. She bites her lip, both at the thought and at the touch. "Abandon her. Or punish him. Both."
His hand slides under her skirt, fingers caressing up her thigh, though his eyes never leave hers. "Good. Remember that."
"I will," she responds in a whisper, shifting her hips slightly to avoid sliding off the chair without moving enough that he'll have to adjust her hand. She wishes she could look away, but she can't, not with his fingers still on her chin holding her there.
The tension drags on for several long moments, and the silence becomes agonizing. Siveri strokes up to Amber's hip, then back across to the inside of her thigh, just a short distance away from - and then he sits back, letting go of her. "Don't be afraid to call me if you need any assistance with your task."
"Yes sir." She sits up straight, squares her notepad with the edge of the table, squares her pen with the notepad, just to have something to do. "Will there be anything else?" She's not sure if she's hopeful there will be, or if she's eager to be dismissed. Both.