Who: Chiara di Palermo and Keira Adams What: Credit where credit is due. When: July 27, 1888 Where: The Fifth Floor, L’albergo, Muswell Hill, London Rating: Low Warnings: None
It had taken a while for Chiara to get around to having a discussion with Keira regarding the incident with Gabriel. She had parties to attend, information to gather, bills to pay, wheels to grease… Chiara might have seemed like a lady of leisure but something she felt like nothing could be further from the truth.
Now, however, she had an afternoon free, and she knew that Keira was home. Three floors below her, the mermaid was likely buried in a book. That was where she had been the last few times Chiara had had occasion to call on her for various reasons. Dedication, Chiara liked that in a sorella.
Still, as admirable as Keira’s devotion to her study was, this situation needed to be dealt with, a line drawn underneath it so that the three of them could move on. Well, as much as Chiara was prepared to move on. She still felt slightly wounded whenever she thought about Gabriel’s apparent lack of trust in her, but that was largely her issue, not his, and certainly not Keira’s.
No, what she wanted to discuss was the fact that Keira and Gabriel had apparently been associating for some time.
She sent a fidata down to Keira’s floor with the summons, and sat and waited.
It had been days since the awful run in with Gabriel at L’albergo. She had cried and pouted and when it seemed as if her friend was not going to come to her to try to make amends, she had finally went to him. The air had been cleared, she had told him all of her secrets, even on that she had thought she would take to her grave. Gabriel knew just about every little thing there was to know about her now. She’d felt better after telling him and she was fairly certain that things were fine between them, though she would not know for sure. He seemed as if things were forgiven and she had forgiven him and now all they could do was move forward and hope that their friendship remained intact.
The only one she hadn’t talked to was Chiara. She had waited for the leader of The Sisterhood to call for her and discuss what had happened, and when it did not come she had started to think that perhaps everything was fine. Maybe Gabriel and Chiara had talked and things were smoothed over.
Then, out of the blue, the fidata came for her. She had been studying as she generally was when she had free time. There was a test coming and she hoped to get top grade on it. Of course, she always hoped to get top grades and she generally succeeded because of her studying habits. She always tried her best in anything she did and never settled for less than that. She had glanced up when the fidata had come and when it dawned on her she was being called for she quickly closed her book and stood to her feet. Following the fidata, she wondered if she’d done something wrong or if this was about Gabriel and it was just now being dealt with. It worried her, though she kept a calmness about her and tried to ready herself for what was to come. When she reached Chiara’s door the fidata knocked and then they waited for Chiara to welcome her in.
After dismissing the fidata with a warm embrace, Chiara closed the door behind her as she left, leaving her and Keira alone on the top floor. It was, she reflected, the first time Keira had seen her personal quarters, given that all their previous encounters had taken place either in the dining hall or in/outside Keira’s suite.
Without speaking, she poured herself a glass of wine and one for Keira, setting both glasses on her desk. She lowered herself gracefully into her chair, and delicately plucked the glass from the desk, sipping daintily. It was all an act, a show of deliberate mildness, before she came to the matter at hand.
“Do you know why I brought you here today?” she asked quietly, gesturing for Keira to sit opposite her.
Keira watched the interaction between Chiara and the fidata. That was nice, she thought. It really did feel as if everyone in L’albergo was family. Even in the sea, the mermaids were not that warm with each other. When they were alone and wine was poured, Keira took the seat opposite of Chiara and took the glass of wine in her fingers, though she did not take a sip, now when her stomach was doing flip-flops.
“No, Lady di Palermo,” she started and then stopped herself. “Maybe,” she sighed. “If it has to do with Mr. Allen…” she trailed off and looked at the other woman and waited an answer to see if she were right.
“It does.” Chiara was still drawing this out, regarding Keira seriously… but she wasn’t angry with the woman, and she didn’t want there to be too much intimidation in this meeting. A little, to keep the bounds of propriety and her expectations intact, sure. Too much? Would only alienate the girls. What kind of benevolent benefactress uses her position to threaten and intimidate, beyond what is absolutely necessary?
“It was brought to my attention that you and Mr. Allen have formed an acquaintance,” she said, still looking Keira directly in the eye. “As you may or may not know, Mr. Allen and I have known each other for some time.” For nearing seventy years, she thought but did not say. She did not publicise her vampire status, and was fairly certain only the fidate knew for sure - rumors and murmurings notwithstanding.
“And there was some unpleasantness. Because after an altercation with you at the door, Mr. Allen brought a lot of anxiety and mistrust up here, to me. Would you care to enlighten me on the events that led us to that unfortunate morning?”
Keira nodded to hear the affirmative of why she was in Chiara’s room, why she had been called to speak with her. She set the wine glass back down on the desk and brought her hands together in her lap. Her stomach was still doing flip-flops in her stomach and drinking anything at the moment would only make it worse, she was sure.
She made a slight face to hear that there had been an altercation with Gabriel and that it had all led back to her. She swallowed and then took a breath in. “At the time, I did not know that the two of you even knew each other,” she started. “Up to that point, anyway, I had not known.” She gave a small sigh and squeezed her hands together for a moment as she gathered her thoughts of what had happened.
“I was running late that morning,” she began. “I had an issue come up at the store that needed my apt attention,” she did not go into what the issue was, it had nothing to do with what had eventually happened. “I had left my belongings here that I generally take with me to the beach, so I had to come back and get them. As I was leaving, the knock at the door came and I decided to answer it. Lo and behold, to quite the surprise of both myself and Mr. Allen, we were coming face to face,” she explained. “We exchanged words, he immediately thinking I had been a spy and me trying to explain myself. He wouldn’t listen, however, he was too surprised and angry. I was in a hurry and was too hurt that within a second I’d lost his trust,” she told Chiara. “So as to not be arguing on the front stoop or the front hall, and because I needed to get to the beach as quickly as possible, I excused myself,” she finished. “And I would presume that is when he came to you.”
“I apologize, Lady di Palermo,” she said with earnest. “Mr. Allen and I have known each other for about a year now and have become quite close in our friendship. Neither one of us knew about the others involvement with The Sisterhood and it was a slap in the face to both of us on how we came to learn about it. If I had known of his involvement I would have asked permission to let him know, but that can’t be changed now. I am so sorry that it fell into your lap, however, but I suppose it was bound to happen at some point perhaps.”
“I know that you did not know,” Chiara said mildly. “There is no reason you should be intimately acquainted with my address book. My affairs are my own, and it never crossed my mind that I should submit my appointment book to my sorelle for approval. Which is why you did not ask. Both of us seem… familiar with the appropriate protocol.”
Keira’s account seemed to have some marked similarities with her own recollection of events. Specifically, that based off one simple (though admittedly fairly damning) coincidence, Gabriel had abandoned trust in both of them, and started demanding answers - answers that Chiara was still not convinced he had a right to demand.
“Had you asked for permission, it would not have been given,” she said with an air of finality. “There is a reason I demand such complete secrecy from you girls. But that brings me to the reason for our meeting today. It is clear to me that, despite your close friendship with Mr. Allen, you never once forgot where your priorities lay.”
And that was the sort of loyalty that money could not buy. It was not, however, the sort of loyalty that money should not reward.
“Let us say that you and Mr. Allen have been friends for a year. Twelve months,” she continued. “Very well. To recognize your devotion to me, and to la Sorellanza, I am going to pay the rent on your tea shop. Let us say, I will pay one month’s rent for every month that you could have been indiscreet, but continually made the decision not to be. That amounts to twelve months’ rent. Let it never be said that Chiara di Palermo does not recognize merit.”
Keira gave a small smile and a nod of her head. She did not poke her nose in Chiara’s business and only took information that she was given. She sometimes wondered if it were because of how her life had been with her late husband. Take only what was given and never ask questions. She’d learned that the hard way. If it translated into how she operated within the Sisterhood, she knew it couldn’t be horrible. And, for whatever reason, she trusted her leader and so far it had not lead her wrongly. “I’ve always believed that if anything is my business, you will alert me of it,” or Chiara would have one of the other sisters alert her of it. Either way, if she needed to know, she would.
She was slightly confused that if she would have asked to let Gabriel know, she would have been denied. It would have prevented what had happened, but again she did not question it. “Then I would have not told him,” she simply said. “The Sisterhood comes first and foremost, you are my family.”
Then Chiara was taking her by surprise. She had thought a reprimand of how things had been handled were to come, instead she was wanting to pay her rent for twelve months for having been loyal. She stared wide-eyed at the other woman, her mouth opening and then closing as she tried to form a coherent sentence. “I…” she started and then cleared her throat. “You don’t need..have…” she stopped and then her thoughts finally caught up to her. “Thank you,” she finally said, softly, knowing that telling Chiara that she didn’t need or have to would be rude and possibly have the woman telling her she could do whatever she wanted.
“Lady di Palermo,” she paused and licked her lips. “You are very gracious, and I will accept your gift of course, but please know that I don’t expect anything for my loyalty other than loyalty given back,” she said haltingly, not wanting to displease Chiara. “What you have given me here, in this home, is always more than enough. You’ll always have my loyalty and secrecy.”
“And loyalty you shall have,” Chiara assured her. “There is a home here at L’albergo for as long as you want it.”
The matter of Gabriel’s visit resolved to her satisfaction, she opened a desk drawer and pulled out the dining hall’s menu, which had been delivered to her much earlier that morning. “The dining hall is serving steak and potatoes for lunch today. Perhaps you would like to join me in eating up here?”
Keira took in a bigger breath and let it out slowly. She relaxed and picked up her wine glass again, this time taking a sip. Everything was fine, it seemed. When Chiara asked if she would join her for supper, she smiled. “That is very kind,” she said in accepting her offer. “As long as the cook can stomach making my steak as rare as he can get it,” she chuckled.
“I also should tell you that I’ve spoken to Mr. Allen since that fateful day,” she admitted. “We have...patched things over. He knows of my story of how I came to be here, but not what happens here or the level I am at. He understands that The Sisterhood is off limits and he won’t ask for anything of me. We are friends, he and I. Dear friends. And I think I might not survive if he weren’t apart of my life, as dramatic as it sounds. He has helped me in some points of my life.”
“If I will it, it will be served to you still mooing,” Chiara quipped. “You may have noticed that what I say goes around here.” In another tone this may have sounded arrogant, but Chiara was joking - as much as she ever did, anyway.
She rang down to the ground floor to put in their order, knowing that once it was ready it would be brought up. “While we wait, let us talk about your time here,” she said. Since she had the girl here it seemed as good a time as any to learn a little more about her. “You are Irish?”
Keira nodded and gave a small chuckle. Yes, she knew that whatever Chiara wished for, it happened. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, that was for sure. She wished that she had the confidence that Chiara had, wished that she was more in control of things than she actually were. Maybe in time it would happen.
With Chiara not even glossing over the fact that Keira had recently spoken with Gabriel, she let it go and sipped at her wine. “Yes and no,” she replied of being Irish. “I guess you could say I am from the Atlantic Ocean,” she chuckled. “But I stayed mostly around Ireland and that is where I came to land,” she explained. “I easily could have gone anywhere I wanted, but Ireland was gorgeous,” she sighed. “I lived in Galway for a bit and then, when it was time to get away, I crossed Ireland, swam the Irish Sea, went around through the English Channel, and came to land and ended here.”
“So you have not traveled,” Chiara remarked. “I hope, in the fullness of time when you become an amica, that you take advantage of the opportunity to travel. England is… nice, and lucrative, but it lacks much of the culture found on the continent. As a proud Sicilian, I feel I am in a position to say that. I spent some time in Russia, and in Poland… I have spent time in France, and in Greece…” she sighed. “If my attention were not so sorely needed here right now, I would be off on another trip. There is so much more of the world to see, and I mean to see as much of it as I am able.”
There was a knock on the door, and Chiara called for the fidata to enter. She did, setting the tray on the desk. She raised an eyebrow at serving a discente, ranks below her, but said nothing. If Chiara asked her to serve, then serve she would.
She cleared the dishes from Chiara’s last meeting as she left, and that would have been that - had she not stumbled over a turned up corner of the rug on her way out of the door. The dishes crashed to the ground, the glasses shattering, and the fidata sucked in a breath as she tried to pick up the glass. She’d cut herself.
The scent of blood filled the air and Chiara’s fangs extended involuntarily before she even understood what had happened. She growled, deep in her throat. She had fed only days before, but fresh blood being exposed in front of her… brought the hunger right back. It ached, in the back of her throat. She clutched the arms of her chair painfully hard, hearing them start to splinter under the force.
“Out,” she choked. “Leave it and clean yourself up. Just go!”
The fidata scurried out of the room holding her bleeding finger, and Chiara closed her eyes, trying to collect herself.
Keira nodded about traveling. “I haven’t done much, no, but…” she trailed off. There were reasons for her not traveling as she would have liked. “But in time, perhaps.” It had been two years since she’d murdered her husband in his sleep, hopefully they weren’t looking for her anymore.
Then their dinner was coming in. She caught the raised eyebrow of the fidata but said nothing, only giving a soft smile and turning her attention away to look at a painting on a wall. The clinking of glasses came next as dishes were picked up from the last meal. When the crashing of glass against floor came, she turned quickly in her seat, then she was instantly on her feet to help the poor woman.
She was starting to reach for a napkin to wrap around the fidata’s finger when she cut it, but instantly stilled when she heard Chiara’s voice. She looked over at her leader, catching the sight of fangs and she instantly knew what had happened. She helped the woman up and practically pushed her out of the door and slammed it shut and then leaned her back against it, realizing she’d just locked herself in the room with a vampire.
“Lady di Palermo?” She spoke softly. “Tell me what I need to do to help you.” She was only slightly afraid, this being the first vampire she’d knowingly met, but she was hoping she could help in someway, to calm her.
“Be very still,” Chiara hissed. Not breathing meant not talking, so that was all she could manage until she was a little more under control. Having the source of the problem removed from the room helped a lot, but it was still a long few moments before she could open her eyes.
When she thought she could control herself a little better, she opened her eyes and took in a shuddering breath - she could obviously go without breathing and frankly would have preferred not to breathe right now, but certain facilities, such as speech, required air moving past the vocal chords.
“Go to the ice box in my private room and bring me the mug on the top shelf,” she said, indicating with her head which room it was. She was unable to retract her fangs just yet, and wasn’t sure she trusted herself to take her hands off the splintered armrest.
Keira stayed still, statue still. In fact, she didn’t even breathe as she waited. Her eyes were glued to Chiara, looking for any clue that would alert her that the woman was losing more control and would attack. She didn’t know what she would do if the vampire came at her, she wasn’t sure she could defend against an attack like that. All she could do was pray that it didn’t happen.
The moment Chiara spoke again, telling her to go get a mug from her private room, she was on the move. She was quick and silent as she moved through the rooms, going straight to the ice box and grabbing the mug from the top shelf as instructed. She then moved back to the other room, her feet padding quietly along the flooring. Setting the mug on the desk in front of Chiara, she then back away slowly until the desk and chairs were both between the two and she waited.
Chiara drank deeply from the mug, choosing not to notice the ruined armrest. Once she had drained it, the hunger subsided somewhat, and she felt her fangs finally obey her order to retract.
“I am… sorry you had to see that,” she said, feeling slightly ashamed of herself. Seven hundred years, and the smell of fresh blood could still do that to her, if it were unexpected. “I am happy to answer any questions you may have, though again I will have to ask for your discretion. And be assured, I have no intention of attacking you.”
Keira was sorry she had to see that, as well, but she didn’t say as much. Instead, she gave a small nod and moved to take her seat as she had. Did she have questions? Yes, a few, she supposed. “Your secret is safe with me,” she said honestly. “But why do you keep it a secret?” She then asked, her heart starting to slow now that it seemed that danger had passed.
Chiara narrowed her eyes, wondering if she should reprimand the liberty taken in asking that question. Ultimately she chose not to. It was, after all, a fair question. “Without going into too much detail that would not concern you,” she answered after a pause, “the position I currently hold in society is largely down to my carefully constructed neutrality. Were it to be common knowledge that I am a vampire, I would be expected by some to hold a very anti-werewolf stance.”
She smirked. “And, as it happens, I do. But because I keep my true nature hidden, I can more easily keep my personal politics hidden, and therefore more doors are open to me. And when more doors are open to me, more doors are open to you.”
Keira listened to Chiara’s answer. It made sense, and she could understand it. “I see,” she said with a small nod. “It makes sense,” she nodded. “As I said, I won’t tell anyone,” she then said. “I’m not about to go blabbing secrets of any species, especially not yours,” she said. Keira was good with keeping secrets, and she would forever hold that secret.
“Are you ready to eat now?” She asked, in a way telling Chiara that all secrets that had been shared in this room were now forgotten, or at least gone.