Domina (dulcepericulum) wrote in light_of_may, @ 2011-02-14 17:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | 2009-08-09, domina, salvatrix |
trespassing ahoy
Who: Salvatrix and Domina
When: Midday
Where: Ad Gustum
1400 N Appleblossom. The name, as with everything else in this odd little township, brought to mind something pretty. A pattern in most small towns throughout the ages that had always set Salvatrix’s teeth on edge and left her believing she was due for another bout of humanity-induced nausea. In this case, she was willing to forgo the melodrama brought on by her delicate nature and actually pay attention. For an American property it was quite impressive. She had seen far better, but not everything was ever as it seemed and the advocate could recognise the need to compromise even her own opinion when the occasion called for it. Standing just outside of the open gates, she stopped to examine her nails before reaching one hand out to drag them along the rails as she stepped through. There was never anything wrong with making an entrance, even if it was relatively quiet. Besides, she liked the sound of it. Perhaps it would alert the residents to the fact they had left perfectly good gates wide open when there were legionaries not twenty minutes away. As the crow flies, at any rate. She wasn’t going to walk straight to the sources that tugged at her attention. It wasted time - which she had plenty of, but that wasn’t to say they did. The desperate were worth nothing if they died before she could sink her teeth into them, and as pretty as the building was, somebody in there definitely needed her aid. More than just the one, by her reckoning.
Salvatrix, contrary to the meaning of her name, was infinitely more interested in what they could do for her. While she considered whether she actually truly needed anything - there was no such thing as the demon who had everything - her tail settled in a coil at her hip. Which she ought to have done earlier, but she couldn’t quite find it in herself to care. What were they going to do about it, exactly? On that note, one finger reached to stab at the doorbell. She wondered briefly if it was one of those ridiculous custom things that sang equally ridiculous songs at the occupants. That was, in her eyes, what other people’s doorbells were for. Irritation.
Of course, the second the motion-sensors on the grounds were triggered Ancilla had hurried off to the security station to see what was coming. The gates were open for business - a fair number of vampires had decided to stay at Ad Gustum for the duration, and who could blame them? The brothel certainly had everything they could need or want. Ancilla knew the face of every customer, and she sighed upon realizing that this? Was a new face. In the next instant she was all business, and marching off towards the front door. Domina was in one of her moods today. Best not to give the little tyrant something new to bitch about.
The woman put a large and hospitable smile on her face, with just a touch of caution as she opened the door. It was how one should look on a day like today. “Yes?” she greeted. “May I help you?”
Had she known she was in any way under surveillance, Salvatrix would have been entertained, if not disappointed (and yet further entertained) by the fact nobody had thought to release the dogs. Or whatever it was these people possessed that made their property safe enough to leave the gates wide open. It was almost welcoming. So was that woman’s face. Well, it was trying to be. She did not believe in any variation of ‘it is the thought that counts’, however, and merely stared at the creature for a moment before looking her over. Not quite fresh meat, but it could do under the right circumstances. “You? No.” Giving a smile of her own - also all business, but decidedly the wrong industry - Salvatrix half waved her away, half shrugged. “Unless you’re the homeowner.” She doubted that was the case. If she was, she did not look concerned enough and was trying far too hard to appear welcoming for the benefit of a complete stranger. For a fleeting moment, the advocate considered trying to remove the expression from her face, but that would doubtlessly prove to be counterproductive. “If so, then charmed, I’m sure. If not, be a dear and find them. I’m working on a schedule.” A beat, and a touch of her own apparent concern. “And I’d rather not stand out in the open with a target on my back.” Arguably, that was precisely what she was doing, but it was hardly pressure Salvatrix was actually feeling. But there was only so long she could keep smiling like that before her face decided it had had enough. So run along.
Ancilla lost the smile and looked the woman up and down. Huh. Talons, tail, but... no fangs. This was... new. They did occasionally cater to weres, if the price was right, but something about this just wasn’t quite right. The idea crossed her mind to find Lex and have him take care of her, but she had a hunch that she ought to play this one more carefully. Ancilla had wonderful hunches, when it came to business. “Wherever are my manners,” she sighed, tone rather dry as she stood back and opened the door. “Won’t you please come in?” Sure, why not. No skin off her ass. If this woman tried anything she’d only be ripped apart by spells before she could so much as blink. She didn’t favor the idea of disturbing Domina when she was in one of her moods, but it would probably be best to let her decide how to handle this one.
Ancilla was a bit more herself now. Which was to say, a blank face that seemed to express just how much she’d seen and how hard she was to surprise. “Who shall I say is requesting a meeting? And why?”
“Probably where I left mine,” Salvatrix answered without missing a beat. Let the girl think on that for a while if she found it necessary. She did not think she would quite figure out the answer without a rather strong nudge. A grand unveiling, perhaps. But the door had been opened for her, so she sailed right in, incapable of even giving the impression she was grateful. That is to say, she had said ‘thank you’, it just didn’t sound like one. Not when one was paying any kind of attention to the speaker. Her eyes wandered everywhere except the woman’s face. She had seen that already, if her expression had changed at all she did not care and was not going to acknowledge having noticed. It didn’t really matter, now, did it? “Salvatrix.” There was magic in this building. Suddenly her trespass had become much more interesting. “There is no last name.” As for the why... “And because I want one. Did you need a better reason?” She was willing to make one up if it was a definite requirement, but it would be nothing most creatures on this plane would appreciate. Because otherwise I will take your tongue as a taster for the first legionary I find and lead the little darling to your doorstep. Or they would, but on a rather different level and only if they believed she was rarely a step away from following through.
Ancilla considered what to do here, and again decided: fuck it. No matter this lady’s intentions, there was nothing she could do now that she was inside. If Domina decided she didn’t want the woman to leave, she wouldn’t. End of story. So she simply gestured towards a large arching doorway to the left. “Please make yourself comfortable in the lounge. I’ll see if the lady is available.” She didn’t await any clever, over-entitled response. She just headed up the grand staircase and off to Domina’s office.
Her knock was ignored by Domina, who was sulking in her hawk form in a nest of silk pillows. She shouldn’t have been hiding away. If it weren’t for her fucking mother, she could be out there watching and laughing at the stupid humans. Hades spoke for her. ”My mistress is not seeing anyone today.”
Ancilla did not make the mistake of letting herself in. She had not been invited. She simply spoke through the door. “She may want to reconsider. There’s a woman downstairs who wants to see her. She is not a vampire - at least, I don’t think so. No fangs. Very entitled. Superior attitude...”
Hades spoke Domina’s thoughts aloud. ”Why on earth should the mistress care if the woman lacks fangs? Have Lex show her what happens to over-entitled breathers on these grounds.”
“Something different about this one,” Ancilla answered. “She’s like the mistress.”
Domina huffed in annoyance, shifted, and yanked on a robe of deep crimson silk and lace worth more than most people made in a week. She threw the door open and glared at Ancilla. “Like me how?” she demanded, making it very clear that the answer may or may not decide how many organs Ancilla was allowed to keep in the immediate future.
To her credit, Ancilla actually winced. It was the appropriate response, and she knew it. “She has hands like yours.”
Domina continued to stare for a moment, before storming past Ancilla and towards the stairs. Fine. Bring on the werebitch. In the mood she was in, she’d be happy to take care of this one herself.
After watching the woman disappear up the stairs, Salvatrix glanced around before letting herself into the lounge. Contemplation and mild caution mixed in a half-formed frown. She had never trusted invitations of any kind, and having established there was indeed magic in the establishment, was loathe to trigger anything by... Well, stepping through a door intended to kill or maim. When the door proved to be just a door, she remained standing. She was perfectly comfortable on her feet and no master, mistress or swineherd of the household was going to stride in, lording over her because she had chosen physical comfort over psychological. Let the mortals have their traditions and conventions and everything else they felt they needed - she was not here for the homeowners, she was here for the unfortunate souls that had caught her attention. If they were one and the same, however... Two birds, one stone. Unless that would-be doberman of a woman got in the way. Someone’s either very heavy or rather hacked off. The end of her tail flicked in amusement as she stood watching the door, waiting to see whose delicate little toes she may have trodden on. Well, now... There was, she had to admit, that annoying little tick in the back of her mind that marked a traitor. And for the countless time in her life, Salvatrix ignored it. Those were for legionaries to deal with. What’s more, she didn’t particularly care. Demons killed each other fairly frequently, though they also wore hypocrisy extremely well. All of which was irrelevant, because this girl was one of hers. “And you are?” The girl already knew her name. Salvatrix would ascend before she even remembered her daughter-in-law’s name, never mind further down the family line.
To Domina’s credit, when the scent of her guest caught up to her, she managed not to skid to a total stop in the doorway. But only barely. She paused, frozen to the spot as it all clicked. She knew that scent. It was not a were. It was purely demonic. She was immediately going over a checklist of criteria to determine how fucked she could possibly be.
I can’t be attacked in Ad Gustum, she reminded herself. The wards are enough to tear a vampire apart that tries. That should be enough for a demon. Shouldn’t it? All the same, it gave her pause. Domina Moriarty, who feared nothing because she was Domina Fucking Moriarty, was a little unnerved. That would have been impressive if it wasn’t so goddamn disturbing. Hades, hang back. Be ready to get Lex. She reminded herself of who she was, stood a little straighter, raised her chin, and smoothed her robe. “Domina Moriarty,” she replied. Her tone did not reflect her inner turmoil of oh shit oh shit what now?! She had been raised properly, thank you very much. After a brief mental check-in with Hades, she had the name of the demoness. Unfortunately, it didn’t ring any bells. “You wished to speak with me?”
“Domina,” the demon repeated, highly amused. Surnames were useful for remembering lineage. Past that they were pointless. But ‘Domina’? That ranked fairly high on the scale of names parents should give their daughters. “That, at least, warrants an approval.” Tail uncoiling itself completely, she dropped the pretense of being anything other than what she was. Pretending to be inferior was never truly on her agenda and now it served no purpose. “Originally, no,” she admitted freely, one hand opening in a shrug. “I was just looking to get past the door. Your rottweiler was most helpful with that.” Her face broke into a smile that gave away a bit too much of her true nature. “You should probably do something about that; if I was any other demon...” Instead of finishing her sentence, Salvatrix just arched an eyebrow. Both of them knew what she meant, there was no point in her saying it out loud. “But having met you in person, yes, I suppose I would speak with you.” Which brought about an interesting point, actually, once she was done looking her over again. How did one admit to being a relative? “We’re related, after all.” Other than just saying it as though it was public knowledge. Mortals often had problems dealing with rather obvious facts when presented with them. As the Light of May had highlighted so wonderfully. Now... How long ago had her son reproduced? “I’d take a stab at great-granddaughter, but I could be wrong.” She had enough children to put the girl just about anywhere below her in the family, but since she’d been following the crumbs Rience had left, she was betting on that horse.
What the fuck had Domina just walked into. Still holding herself with that air of indifference and superiority that any Moriarty was expected to have, she shrugged, and casually seated herself on an 18th century chaise lounge. “The grounds are heavily warded, many of which are tied to me. I am relatively confident that you can’t hurt me within these walls. And I have security to cover any fraction of doubt that remains.” She smiled. Yes, maybe the demon could hurt her a little. But it wouldn’t leave the place alive. That would bring small comfort. And then the woman had to keep talking. At first, Domina was sure she had heard wrong.
She tilted her head to the side, openly staring at Salvatrix. “I’m sorry, what?” Related? Oh fucking hell, she wasn’t kidding. She opened her mouth to respond, and immediately closed it. She repeated this process once or twice. “Entirely possibly,” she finally conceded. “Does that mean you are here to attempt to purge your line of the traitor?” Might as well get it all out in the open.
Well that explained one thing. The longer Salvatrix spent in that building and the longer she thought about it, the more she could practically taste the witchcraft in it. How much of what Domina said was true, she could not say though she sounded convincing enough. Then again, Salvatrix herself had sounded perfectly convincing to every soul she had sent to hell, so that wasn’t something that held a lot of weight with her. She still wasn’t going to test the theory. Let another demon attempt that, she had no interest in the matter. “Oh, I’m sure you do.” She wasn’t trying to be condescending. It came naturally. And she still wasn’t sitting down. She was just going to let that bit of news register properly before reacting any further than returning her attention to her nails. “The work of a legionary and the hobby of the bored and incompetent.” The notion was dismissed both by her tone and the flicker of a frown that begged to differ. “No, child, I came here to answer the prayers of however many desperate creatures you’re housing here.” Her face lit up in a smile that acknowledged she was doing anything but. “I did not know you were here. It does make the matter more interesting though, I’ll give you that.”
Domina was absolutely certain that the last thing she should do was laugh, but she couldn’t help but grin a little. The only prayers that were answered here were that of horny vampires. The end. “And how do you intend to do that, if I may ask? Great-Grandmother is a bit of a mouthful, but I suppose it’s rude to address you by first name. Which title would you prefer?” Oh yes, she had been taught manners. If she didn’t know any better, she would even say she was growing amused with this situation. As long as she wasn’t about to die. She even felt a small amount of pride at seeing the woman’s hands. They were just like her own, and Domina felt remarkably smug about now knowing they weren’t a were deformity, but a hint of her strong demonic blood.
Perhaps Domina wasn’t going to laugh, but Salvatrix was. Somehow the noise was both self-satisfied and light-hearted. “Oh, sweetheart.” Petnames were something she used often, though there was nothing affectionate or endearing about them. They were merely another form of reference that seemed to put many at ease. She had always appreciated a false sense of security. “I’m an advocate. I deal in small mercies and big favours.” Yes, she liked to make it sound as though she was actually helping. It amused her. If repeated enough in front of the same audience they often ended up believing her - which was bizarre, but nevertheless. “As for the ‘how’, that would be telling.” One could argue she did it by snapping her fingers, if only because the action seemed to garner a better response. It almost swayed their belief. Idiots. The question of her name or any other manner of address was... unexpected, actually. Even Rience had taken to calling her by her given name eventually because it heightened the chances of actually getting an answer. “Be as rude as you like, I’m not here to slap wrists. Anything goes but ‘Trixie’.” The crack her tail made against the floor confirmed it was not something that should ever be tested.
Advocate. Domina was only somewhat familiar with the term. Her mother had mentioned something about it once, but Domina had been angry with her at the time and hadn’t been paying attention. “We like favors around here,” she replied, agreeably enough. “We’re big on those. It’s the desperate creatures part I get stuck on.” No, she wasn’t dumb enough to play coy. Not with a demon, and definitely not with one that was related to her. “Sure, we’ve got those, but... I’m not exactly of a mind to give anybody access to them. I must ask, my dear relative... do you even know where you are?” Domina certainly wouldn’t be above telling her. Not smart, perhaps, but hell - if she decided she didn’t want Grams with a Whip over there to leave, she wouldn’t. End of story. She had nothing to lose.
Shaking her head, the demon flexed her fingers. “The favours aren’t for you, they’re for me.” Explaining didn’t bother her. What bothered her was that certain information clearly had not been passed on adequately enough. Salvatrix could fix that. “I’m... drawn to them, shall we say. And, naturally, morally obliged to grant them a wish in exchange for a favour of my choosing. To be fulfilled when I see fit.” And where she was? “Short of a rather large property in Scarket Oak, Michigan - no.” She shrugged. “I follow my vocation, not road maps or tourist guides.” Admittedly, she was intrigued. “Care to fill me in or do I need to ask around?” Something told her that wouldn’t get her many answers.
“I never met my grandfather - your son, if your logic is correct,” Domina explained. “I believe he died when my mother was young. And I know better than to ask my mother a lot of questions.” Simple explanation that hopefully said a lot. She listened to Salvatrix’s explanation with clear interest, finding this all rather fascinating. The fact that Salvatrix didn’t know where she was... well, that was fun too. She grinned again. “You are in Ad Gustum,” she explained. “A project of mine, and my younger sister’s. It was a gift from my father. He considers it good business experience. You’re in an underground vampire brothel. That desperation you’re drawn to would be the slaves I have chained up in the basement and marked for death and-or torture, and I’m not really of a mind to free them. I could throw you one or two - in the name of family, of course. No need to start us off on the wrong foot.”
“Rience.” Salvatrix’s forehead creased in a mark of definite disapproval. “Idiot boy got himself killed.” There was no trace of maternal anything in the way she spoke about him. It wasn’t in her nature and she had severed those apron strings for him long before he found himself an earthly wife. Though with what Domina was saying about her mother, she had to assume he had done something right in the parenting department. No self-respecting demon wanted children who poked and prodded or would tolerate such behaviour themselves. It was embarrassing. Not that she would know because it had never happened to her. She could only imagine. Ad Gustum. Now there was a perfectly valid reason for Salvatrix to develop a certain level of interest in a building. Making note of the fact there were two Moriarty sisters, she tilted her head back, the smile on her face unsure as to whether it intended to dissolve into laughter. “A vampire brothel.” She knew there was a vampire bar, but that was not something she was interested in visiting just yet. “Can you compete with Heme in terms of variety in merchandise?” Actually, from the sound of things, she had little doubt that they could, but it was worth asking. “I haven’t freed a soul for decades. Not since I requested the head of John the Baptist and the indebted had the presence of mind to decapitate a Baptist named John.” A smirk and a moment’s reflection. “Thus damning himself for murder regardless, but he did that himself.” No one said that the souls taken as insurance would still be squeaky clean when she handed them back.
Rience, huh? Well, maybe that said something about her parent’s own naming traditions. At least they’d let her change hers. “I’d like to be polite and say that perhaps worthy qualities skip a generation, but that wouldn’t be saying much about myself.” And just by the way Domina carried herself, it was clear that she thought a great deal of herself. And why shouldn’t she? She reclined comfortably at the question. “It is Heme that can’t compete with us. They just don’t know it. Anything one could want, live and on-tap, willing to do anything for the right price. And if it’s the unwilling they require, well... that’s where the dungeons come in.” Another grin. She finally did laugh at the story, quite able to appreciate that. “I like the way your mind works.”
Please, she didn’t want to be polite at all, and Salvatrix knew it did not need to be said. The comment was, however, an interesting mix of mortal breeding and demonic tendencies that were not something one could just hide. It delighted her in a very fundamental way. Mainly because it could not be hidden. “Blow that trumpet louder, darling,” she laughed. “No one else will do it for you.” Domina had a healthy view of herself, clearly, but there was nothing wrong with it continuing down that path. Well. There was everything wrong with it if one was inclined to listen to any kind of doctrine, but that was why it was encouraged. “I do love a good niche in the market.” Especially when it catered to creatures who, publicly, professed to be perfectly safe to be around... while some of them broke rather more fundamental laws by frequenting somewhere like this. Murder for lunch and prostitution for dessert. “The dungeons would be below, I take it?” As the name suggested. It would explain why her current attentions were spreading fairly evenly in that direction, albeit thinly. There was only so much attention she was willing to give at any one time. She grinned at the remark about her mind, her ego forever responding to the reminder that she was good at what she did. “It appears to be in the blood.” No one else’s bloodline was taking credit for that. Fine, her husband also had a hand in it.
“I do try to, at every opportunity,” Domina agreed. She’d been born that way. One of her earliest memories was of a time when she couldn’t have been but days over three. It was the full moon, and her mother was tending to the baby Angeline. The nannies were nervous of the children on the full moon. Domina liked to nip at them and watch them scream. While her mother fed Angeline, Domina flew in and dropped a dead rabbit at her feet and preened. When her mother cast her only a fleeting glance, failing to give the required praise, Domina threw the carcass into her nanny’s face to watch her cry. It almost made up for the bitter disappointment of her mother’s parental failings. “They are,” she confirmed, before sitting up slightly. “Would you care for a tour?”
Now why couldn’t more children be raised like this? True, Salvatrix had abandoned five of her six children, but she had that labelled as both necessary at the time and the demonic equivalent of tough love. And of those five, the two full-demons were raised by her parents. Completely negligent? … Probably. But it was more than they’d earned, thus more than they deserved. Bad enough that she had raised one child and survived to realise she had no desire to repeat the ordeal. After a moment spent merely watching Domina intently, trying to figure her out beyond the entitled glossy exterior, she gave a brief nod. “Yes, I suppose I would.” It wasn’t as though she was holding to her alleged schedule any more. There was little reason to when the place had succeeded in holding her interest thus far. And all she had really seen was a lounge and some woman who she doubted appreciated her appearance. “Out of interest, what kind of magic is in place here?” Purely academic interest. Well. It was the sort of thing that she felt she ought to know should she ever intend to step foot in the building again.
Domina found she didn’t mind being watched. Initial butterflies were long gone, and she was rather... enthralled. She was in the presence of a true demonic relative, and to Domina’s mind, it seemed they had at least a few things in common. Domina had even inherited the woman’s tell. She couldn’t wait to tell her family. She was proud as could be. “Let’s start with the dungeons then,” she said as she rose to her feet, “Since it is a matter of interest to you.” She lead the way back into the great hall, pausing to answer the question. “A great deal of black wards, and blood as well. Many of the spells are tied to myself, my sister, and the talent - so to speak. It would be quite suicidal to raise a hand to myself or Angeline. Or to harm one of the whores past a consenting rough romp. The house staff - maids, chefs, drivers and the like - are incapable of speaking of this place outside its walls. They are only able to ever answer that they work for a private residence, and no more. And the slaves are all put through different spells. Most are a simple memory warding - if they should manage to escape, they’d never be able to find this place again. Or even know what state they were in. They won’t remember what the house looks like, or many - if not all - of the people they encounter here. Some have spells more tailored to unique circumstance.” With that, she grinned. “I gave one to my sister, for instance, under a domination spell - one I placed myself. He was unable to defy any of her orders, or make any attempt of escape. Unfortunately, he didn’t last as long as I would have hoped.”
It was a marvellous thing when people got to the point. That is to say, the part Salvatrix was interested in. Rather than make her drift through details she hadn’t asked for and probably would not benefit from knowing. She wanted to know what they were keeping down there, even if she knew she was not exactly allowed to play with them as she had originally intended. Eyeing the walls as though they would deliver further elaboration on the spell-work, she ignored the momentary burst of electrical interference she caused as she moved into the hall. It happened. It could potentially cause seizures, but it happened. She listened with an arched eyebrow, her face refusing to register that she found the extent of the wards fascinating. She was not necessarily accustomed to stroking the egos of others. That was what other people were for. “You have everything on a tight leash, then,” she mused. “Impressive.” At the mention of her sister’s slave, both eyebrows raised, the corners of her mouth tugging into a smirk. “Her doing or his own? I had something similar in the sixties.” As similar as one could get when you swapped domination spells for owning someone’s soul. “The fool hung himself.” Which was fine; he had done her job for her.
“You know, I don’t recall,” Domina admitted. How he had gone out hadn’t registered with her - she’d simply disappointed her gift hadn’t been able to tough it out a little longer. It made her look bad, you know. “We’re without a slave manager at the moment. Our little dominatrix has been updating me on things in the dungeons and overseeing the staff down there, but she really doesn’t have the time for that sort of thing.” She also suspected Tanith disapproved of the slaves, not that the woman would ever dare to say anything. Best to get a replacement soon. “When we had one I got much better reports.” Domina had originally been heading for the elevator, but with that little bit of electrical interference, she thought the better of it. Stairs it was. She lead the way down another hall, eventually stopping to open a hidden door. “After you.”
“Pity.” Might have been something worth hearing. The demon found humour in many things, more notably the misfortune of others. It was one of the reasons she loved the German language. The only language she knew of that had a specific word for that kind of humour. Salvatrix’s tail twitched in amusement at the idea of a resident dominatrix - even if it did make perfect sense - before curling at her waist. Tripping family down the stairs was considered rude by some, inconvenient by her. “Why without a manager?” It hardly made any kind of difference, but this place seemed to yield more interesting answers than others. The display of apparent manners earned a flash of a smile - really, she did not care one way or another - before she descended the stairs two at a time. She would rather get along before any withstanding contracts died. “What kind of updates?” The first person to accuse her of being nosey would get a gold star branded ont their forehead.
“Our last, a vampire woman, simply retired. I believe she went back to Germany. Left no notice, either. I’ve been looking for a replacement, but it’s so difficult to find someone with both the stomach for such a thing, and the proper IQ,” Domina explained, descending the stairs after her great-grandmother. The landing brought them into a large, circular room, with bare stone floors and walls. Several narrow hallways branched off, leading to assorted cell blocks in one direction, and torture chambers in another. “Charming, isn’t it? I’m told the foundation is quite old. There was a brothel here for quite some time, owned by a vampire. He had no vision for the business.” Domina waved her hand vaguely, clearly showing her distaste. She had vision. “Oh, everything. We like to keep a manager to keep the slaves in line, as well as keep them from dying prematurely. Those who behave themselves are occasionally awarded - better meals, bathing, the like - and those who don’t are punished regularly. I liked to have detailed reports on everything done.”
“I can imagine it must be hard finding someone with both qualities,” Salvatrix mused. Did she have fly-aways? Her hands occupied themselves with her sense of vanity, smoothing back curls that may or may not have been out of place while she glanced around. “Especially in a town like this.” The population may be varied as far as race was concerned, but overall she found herself quite unimpressed. If there was ever a town that needed a firm nudge over its moral alignment, this was it. Excluding the Bible Belt, but that rather went without saying now, didn’t it? Really, it wasn’t that difficult to push that ridiculous sense of morals and ethics aside and grow a spine. Weren’t all vertebrates born with one? She did have to agree with the ‘charming’ assessment, however. The place had a certain feel to it. Cosy, almost. “Vampires are occasionally convenient and have interesting dentistry, but past that they’re useless. Sometimes vision really does require living eyes.” Etcetera. Or that was Salvatrix’s not so humble opinion. “It cannot be that difficult to stop meat-sacks from falling apart.” Again, her not so humble opinion. It was easy enough to break the wretched fools, but they were still more robust than she was ever willing to give them credit for.
“It is a horrid little place, isn’t it?” Domina replied, wrinkling her nose up. Meaning Scarlet Oak, of course. Not her dungeon of happiness and torture. “Daddy insisted. A few years here, to better his image, then he promises it’s back to civilization. I do my best to occupy myself in the meantime.” And Ad Gustum certainly helped in that. You just couldn’t hide a dungeon in the city, she had to give it that. “I should think not. I’d do it myself, had I the time. I’ve learned never to hire anything even remotely human, though. A siren bitch really pulled a number on that idiot man once.”
“Nauseatingly so.” If she had any intention of being truly honest, Salvatrix would have admitted that she was a British demon born-and-bred, and as a result, was essentially obliged to look down on anything that used to be a colony. Which marked most of the country as a ‘horrible little place’ with a fair few points of interest for the advocate who could never have too many souls. But there were certain things it was worth holding one’s tongue over. Even if it was only temporarily. A few years? What did he do, burn a priest at the stake? Not a bad idea in her books, but then it was almost expected and she did not like to be overly predictable. “To err is human,” she stated with a combination of impatience and irritation that spoke volumes of what she thought of humanity in general. With the current exception of those carrying her bloodline, earth’s creatures were for demons to play with. Little more. “So remove the human factor completely; by which I mean those that belong on this plane, not merely the breakables whose genetics fit the bill.” She shrugged. It was a simple enough solution to her.
“Do you know anyone good?” Domina asked, smile present again. A demon would certainly qualify as good in her books, and if it meant wiping that nasty little traitor mark off her slate, all the better. As far as she was concerned, the demons were her people, and she would have quite liked to be back in good standing with them. She would never forgive her mother for what she’d been made to do. Among other things. She lead the way down one of the cellblocks, allowing time for Salvatrix to peek in at any inhabitants if she wished.
“Well...” Now, the problem with that question was that Salvatrix only ever viewed people as good at anything when they were in her good graces. There was never enough room in that department to fit more than a handful of people, and she tended to prefer perishables to bona fide demons. The immortals had more time to disappoint her and the advocate’s disappointment rarely faded. And, of course, she wasn’t on speaking terms with her husband. “There’s always myself.” She shrugged. Naturally, she would usually be her own first choice for everything that was not far beyond her own calling, but the inmates were desperate enough to fall under her jurisdiction even if she wasn’t claiming their souls. No, there definitely wasn’t anyone she could name who she deemed better for the job.
Domina whirled to face her great-grandmother, her face lighting up with pure glee at the idea. She wasn’t sure what her mother would say, but frankly, she didn’t give a fuck. She wanted to get to know this woman, and she was delighted with the idea of her working at Ad Gustum. Her demonic heritage was basically the only thing Domina had in common with her mother. “You would consider it?” she asked. Usually Domina went into a situation always trying to figure out what she could get out of it - but this idea completely blindsided her. She never even considered that the demon would consider the position worth her time. “I would try to make it worth your while, of course.”
“I don’t make offers I have no interest in, so yes.” Why not? Salvatrix could think of no reason why she shouldn’t, though she could think of plenty of reasons why others should not want her to. Oh, those under her watch certainly survived. Physically. But then she was not of the opinion that the owners of these slaves wanted them for their conversational skills. No - not when a raised eyebrow made them cower. “I don’t doubt you will, darling.” Her face pulled into the kind of smile that rightly made any slaves watching uneasy. She always believed she had gotten the better end of the deal, and it showed. “Now, what kind of hours are we talking?” Not that it made the slightest bit of difference to her at that moment in time, but it would eventually.
“In the past, we’ve given the manager their own suite of rooms on the property. In that case, you’d set your own hours, with the dungeon staff following your instructions when you’re not here. Naturally, we’re most active at night, but the hours you choose to keep wouldn’t matter. Only a select few of the clients are invited down here,” Domina explained. “And we have a few regulars that keep their blood slaves here, for safety reasons.” You couldn’t exactly get away with a human slave in a condo, that was for sure. “You’d have a full staff to follow your every order to the letter. We have our own hunter, and I could make sure you’re given a steady supply of the desperate for your own means, if you like.” Why not? The siren and mermaid both regularly got a man to kill, why should things be any different here?
Corner of her mouth twitching into a satisfied smile, the demon found herself mentally ticking boxes. It seemed her great-granddaughter was good at doing that part for her. As far as she could see the only catch was that the magic in this building seemed to effectively own everybody. But then such matters only became a problem when you were stupid enough to let them. “Reasonable enough.” Perhaps the growing amusement betrayed that it was more than merely reasonable, but it was just a facial expression. “Count me in for all of the above and you have yourself a deal,” she chimed. Her own house was not that far away, but since when had such things mattered?
And hello, Christmas. Domina was beaming. “We have a deal then. Oh, you’ve made me so happy. I can’t wait to have you meet the rest of the family. I’ll have Ancilla make all the arrangements - you’ll have to let me know any preferences for your personal quarters. I think this will be a most wonderful arrangement.” And if her mother got sand in her vagina over Domina getting to their dear relative first, well then! All the better.
Making family happy. Salvatrix tilted her head. Well, there was a first for everything. Smiling, she just nodded. How else was one supposed to react to the idea of meeting family? Aside from maybe laughter. “I’ll be delighted, I’m sure.” It was only a little lie. And as far as interior decorating was concerned, she was fine with anything but pastels, but she didn’t think she needed to worry about that. “In that case, I look forward to working with you,” she said, extending a hand. It was, in Salvatrix’s opinion, how all business deals should be closed. Even when they didn’t involve someone going to hell. Some traditions ought to be kept.