Satis House

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Nicolae watched them leave quietly, his form rigid with anger. His mother's room. He should have known better than to leave Singe in Satis House without supervision, though it seemed very unimportant when he'd allowed it. But Antha was safe now, and it was very, very important, because of all places they had invaded the one room that he considered most sacred.
It was these thoughts, and Nicolae's intense anger, that made Singe lean over Antha, to whisper to her, "It wasn't your idea to lock it up, was it?"
The girl just grinned at him, touching a single finger to her lips for silence. It was supposed to be a secret. And then she turned to Cian, smiled at him and answered his half-asked question. "Two plagues upon the house of Mayfair, dead," she said, with more than a hint of relief, "And it's partially thanks to you, you know." In the hall, Nicolae's heavy steps could be heard falling rapidly, and then if one listened quietly when they stopped they could hear the wet splattering in the bathroom, Sleet's remains spilling back up his throat. But Antha ignored it, glanced instead at Singe and said simply, "Sleet is dead."
Immediately the vampire boy went on alarm, staring at her as if he expected her to fall dead at any moment. That was the way it worked, wasn't it? Sleet died and the Mayfair family began dropping like flies. But Antha grinned all the wider, shaking her head at him, and suddenly the correlation between their situation and the Calais family clicked. "You ATE him?" he shouted, staring wildly at her, only to have her shake her head again, her eyes glancing in the direction of the bathroom where Nicolae was still throwing the coven master up. So Singe followed her gaze, stood in the bathroom doorway and repeated, "You ATE him?!" Nicolae slammed the door in his face, though it did almost nothing to deflect the barrage of questions that came at him.
Antha, bored with the horror of such a thing, simply called out, "When you two are done bickering, though I hate to bother you, I rather think I am in dire need of medical attention."
Nicolae answered her by tromping into the room, wiping his mouth on his sleeve---it wasn't like it would make any difference now, what with the current condition of his clothing---and going to the phone, punching in the numbers for Lawrence. He was the responsible one after all, the one who cleaned up after they caused trouble. "Antha needs a doctor," he said the moment Lawrence had answered, ignoring the questions that now came from his outraged cousin, and then, "There's a boy walking down the road. Try not to hit him." He hung up then, abruptly, and turned to Antha, his arms crossed over his chest. "Should I go after him?"
"No," Antha sighed simply, "He's not my prisoner, darling, if he wants to leave then let him. Perhaps when he calms down he'll see reason and come back. Until then..." She shrugged, letting her words die off, and turned to Cian, "I'm trusting you not to let me fall unconscious. It would be dreadfully pathetic if a concussion was what finally bested me after all these years."  

[Okimiyage]

It had been too long since the Calais children had run wild through the brambles and thorns of their untended grounds, and the soles of Rynn's feet were already bruising by the time that he reached the end of the drive. The car that screeched by him, spraying gravel in its wake--didn't anyone in this town drive like normal person?--did not do anything to improve his mood.
Rynn wanted to go home. It sounded stupid even in his own head. What home did he even have to go back to? There was nothing left of Llyr's Court but--ashes.
Rynn cut across the road, heading east. If he couldn't go back to Llyr's Court, then at least he could get into the city. He'd...figure things out from there.

Cian didn't know who Sleet was, or why the mention of his name made Singe go stiff as a cat stroked backwards. But he understood the import of the words Singe shrieked, and could gather at least the gist of what had occurred tonight. An enemy of the Mayfair family had been swallowed whole, consumned and absorbed, and with it all the power and consequence that the individual might possess. He kept a hold on Antha's hand, his gaze steady upon her. It was strange that she found shame in sleep, in the healing that her body demanded. But Cian gave her what she wanted, the light-headed lucidity of those pushed to exhaustion and beyond. Dried blood flaked from her fingers as he interlaced his own with hers. It isn't pathetic.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Antha merely laughed. "Vampires, witches, a human consumed by hate...these things could not kill me, and therefore if I fall asleep and the concussion that I likely have kills me, I shall never get over it, even in death." Laughing again, she closed her eyes briefly, the sweet, calm darkness of sleep pressing at her consciousness, until suddenly the front door slammed open and feet pounded on the floors, up the stairs and down the next hall to the library, where Vittorio swung into view with his black medical bag tucked under his arm. Dolly Jean appeared after him, breathless, her silvery hair flying around her as she caught the door frame and halted herself, and then Lawrence, a little more calmly, smoothing his hair down.
"You should've called me earlier," Vittorio chided Antha quietly, setting the bag down and cracking it open. Dolly Jean, easily amused as always, was standing still, staring at Cian like some wild, exotic animal in a zoo until Vittorio,brushing his black hair from his eyes, snapped his fingers at her, drawing her to his side to take the things he handed to her.
Personally, Lawrence didn't know if he should be worried or furious, and about or at who. He simply looked between Nicolae and Antha, a crease upon his brow and his jaw clenched tight. "What in God's name---" He stopped, shook his head and started again, "Why---" He stopped again, and fell silent, turning away from everyone.
For her part, Antha smiled and untangled one of her hands from Cian, motioning to her cousins, "Cian, this is Vittorio, Dolly Jean, and Lawrence---some of my cousins. My dears, this is Cian Calais. You'll have to excuse Rynn...he's quitted our company."
"Hold still," Vittorio instructed, taking her arm and laying it straight, feeling for her vein and easing a needle in. This was connected to a tube, which was connected to a small machine that Dolly Jean held. When that was done, Vittorio sat beside her and shined his flashlight in her eyes, checking the dilation of her pupils. "You'll be fine," he assured her softly, sighing, "After the transfusion, you'll need some vampire blood---so much more efficient than stitches---and you'll be fine by morning." He paused then, his eyes flickering at Cian, but Antha shook her head and he let it go.
"What a shame," Dolly Jean sighed, when all had fallen silent, her voice as quiet and wispy as always, "I wanted to meet Monsieur Calais...Rynn, that is. It's a pleasure to meet you of course, Cian, but..." Again there was that silence, though more awkward this time, because Dolly Jean couldn't figure out how to finish her thought.  

[Okimiyage]

Cian thought Antha did not make a very convincing argument in favor of remaining awake. After all, if a concussion had been the death of her, she would have made an excellent ghost. He was certain that Satis House had no shortage of them, but she would have been their queen. Through fluttering white lace curtains she would press her face, blink impossibly long-lashed luminous green eyes, blow kisses that left the fabric stained with blood. In the night, her victims would awaken to a starved child that did not scream or weep, but pounded a phantom blade into their breastbone, mechanically, over and over and over again. Beyond the attic door, chains would rattle and shake, and the weeping and screaming and laughter of children might be heard in the wee hours of the night.
This house had seen a lot of s**t.
But then the door below slammed open, and within moments a man--the doctor, Cian presumed--entered the library, followed shortly by a waif-like figure with silver hair. Cian let go of Antha's hand and stood, backing away as the man rushed to her side. Instead, he sidled over to Nicolae, watching with concern as the Mayfair heir was tended to.
Without warning, though, he found himself being introduced, and addressed. He stepped forward, bowing formally and taking Dolly Jean's hand to kiss it. In that instant, as their bare skin touched, he gave her the cool self-assurance, it's alright, his sense of self and identity--Cian--gladness, the pleasure of knowing her acquaintance, and enjoyment of her company.
Then Cian looked up from her hand and grinned rakishly.
Releasing her hand, he straightened and returned to his position at a safe distance.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

At the touch of a man who was a stranger to her, Dolly Jean's pale cheeks went scarlet. She could not withdraw her hand fast enough, could not wait to run to Vittorio and hide herself against him. It was the sort of logic children have---if I can't see them, they can't see me---and Vittorio bore it silently. It was Lawrence who looked to the Calais boy, blinking his keen silver eyes at him, and sighed, "Dolly Jean is..." He searched his memory briefly for the word they had used for her since she had been a child, the one that didn't hurt her delicate feelings. "...special. The interbreeding, you know." Dolly Jean, who had never quite understood the correlation between these things, nodded nonetheless, her hair falling in her face and shielding her.
Nicolae, ignoring all the words going on around him, merely shot a look at Lawrence and asked, "Where's Malakai?" Of course Malakai had wanted to come, Antha was as dear to him as to Nicolae, and he was infinitely kinder and more concerned on a whole than his twin.
"He is at home," Lawrence responded quietly, hesitating as he glanced at Antha, "He is looking after uncle Stefan. He is...not doing very well."
"What?" More than anything, this brought Antha to stark, vivid consciousness, bolting up to stare at Lawrence over Vittorio's head, despite the latter's protests. "Why did no one tell me this earlier? Vittorio! Get this machine off of me, start the car---damn it, I said now!" She came just short of using her authority as the Designee of the Legacy, demanding that as such she be freed, but Vittorio clapped a hand over her mouth and pushed her back down against the sofa where she glared at him, seething.
"He is fine, Antha," Lawrence sighed, with that weariness that had become so common to him, "He is just feeling a little under the weather is all."
This had Antha struggling with Vittorio, forcefully removing his hand from her mouth, "You of all people should side with me on this," she hissed at him, shooting Lawrence a dirty look over his shoulder, "Uncle Stefan played father to us both when oncle Louis died."
Vittorio glanced briefly at Lawrence, who had gone rigid with the anger of being ignored, and then back to Antha and whispered, "Wait until you are a little better. Your death would do nothing to improve his health."
Quietly, Antha laid back down and let Vittorio do his job, silently seething, because she hated him being right. "Will you be joining us at Mayfair Manor, Mr. Calais?" Lawrence questioned innocently, if a little too formally, "The aunts will want to fuss over you, I'm quite sure. They do like a good opportunity to fatten some wayward child up and work out all the affection their children are too old or irritated to receive." From the other side of the room, Vittorio and Antha gave twin scoffs of laughter.  

[Okimiyage]

At Dolly-Jean's reaction, Cian grew pale, stepped back--knocking back against a shelf, his spine digging into the rows of books. It was the first time his magic had ever elicited such a reaction from someone, and he hung his head in shame that he had caused such ********. How Rynn would have laughed. Little brother. He wondered whether he should go after him or not. Reaching out, finding the unconscious blood bond they shared as brothers, that implacable red thread of fate, he spoke--Rynn.
Over the distance between them, his voice reached his little brother's ears. Rynn stopped, cold. He dared not answer. Turning around, he spied the glare of headlights, and reached up his hand--
Rumbling to a halt, a battered red pick-up truck driver rolled down the window and beckoned at this strange, beautiful waif to climb into the cab. Rynn opened the door, hopped up and slid into the seat across from the driver, an older man with a cigarette dangling from his lips and a beard yellow with nicotine. Silently, they drove on. He didn't ask where Rynn was going, and Rynn didn't venture any information. Perhaps he knew enough about the Mayfairs--or at least the legends about Satis House--that he knew he didn't want to ask.
At Lawrence's question, Cian snapped out of it. Looking up, he shook his head quickly. He would go where Antha went, he thought with a trace of bitterness, but he could not call any house of their family's a permanent residence. Always a guest, never a home.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Again, Antha laughed. "Not distress, darling," she purred, "She's very...bashful, and rather like a very young girl just discovering that boys are not entirely savage and revolting creatures."
Vittorio, catching onto the slight, muttered, "It was the coolest rock I ever saw, damn it."
Antha gave that condescending laugh, but was silent. She had watched Rynn as he moved, after all she knew what her city was like, how many there were lurking in the shadows that would love to take advantage of the situation, of Rynn himself, but for the most part she left him alone. She didn't call to him as Cian did, and certainly didn't dare to send anyone to bring him back. Instead she motioned for the phone, which Lawrence brought her just as Singe popped his head in, observing them all warily, the cat squirming in his loving embrace. "Nicholas," she said sweetly into the phone when a voice sounded on the other end, which immediately put the vampire on alert, "I need a favor of you. There is a boy wandering the city, Rynn Calais is his name---no, do not concern yourself with that, just listen. I need you to help keep an eye on him, for a day or so. I am not certain he realizes what sort of danger awaits him, given all that has happened." Silence for a moment, before Antha turned on her side, facing away from the others and whispering, as if to be certain Cian didn't hear---but what were the chances of that, really?---"There are those who would brand him cursed, Nicholas, and he is all alone. His brother is with me, but Rynn is..." There was no word for it, and so Antha let her words falter and die as Nicholas spoke, hushed and rapidly, "Just watch him. I have too many things weighing on my mind to keep a close eye on him. Give it a few of days, if he doesn't return I will talk to him and, if I must, I will let him go." The words on the other end grew more rapid, and Vittorio leaned in to hear, though Antha pushed him somewhat forcefully back so that he stumbled and fell onto the floor. "Good boy. Let me know if anything decides to hunt him."
She slid the receiver back onto the base then, as her brother and cousins watched her with wary eyes. "If they want his curse, they will not be stopped by you," Lawrence stated, in a manner that suggested they were all thinking along the same lines, "He left your protection, there's nothing to be done now. He will swim or be dragged down to the depths and never come back up."
"Lawrence!" Antha reprimanded him sharply, to which he flinched the slightest bit, as if she had inflicted some small, fleeting pain upon him. Dolly Jean tugged on Vittorio's sleeve as this happened, her eyes swimming with confusion, to which his own flickered pointedly at Cian and Dolly Jean remained quiet, withdrawn and solemn.
It was Singe, holding onto the cat trying to scramble out of his arms for dear life, that said pointedly, "They don't want you to know that half the city thinks you're cursed."
From around the room, half a dozen voices cried out against him---"Singe!"---irritated by his lack of finesse with the matter.
"Shouldn't a Talamascan know when to keep his mouth shut?" Lawrence scoffed, sticking his nose up at him, "I thought you vultures knew secrets almost as intimately as Mayfairs do?"
"He's going to find out eventually!" Singe yelled in his own defense, shrinking back from the gazes of the Mayfair cousins, "It's better to learn this way isn't it?"
"It will blow over," Antha said with some small amount of certainty, trying to wave the subject away, "Time will bring more important matters to the surface and they will all cope." Though she did not say it, she thought the city would be far too busy to concern themselves with the supposed Calais curse very shortly. Word of Sleet's death would begin spreading like wildfire at any moment, and all the hopefuls of Osiris City would be swarming like enraged hornets vying for the sudden empty slot at the top of the food chain.  

[Okimiyage]

Cian grew--quite pale, and he moved to Antha's side slowly, like a man in a dream. Reaching out, he seized her hand--hard enough to bruise--and the words tumbled out of his mind into hers like wet river stones from the lips of a drowned corpse. What do they say is our curse, Antha?
He did not know if he was--angry, or afraid--but suddenly he was desperate for the numbing embrace of some poisonous substance that would make him, for an hour--or two, or three, or ten--as far removed from his own mind as possible. This was all too much. The manor, Antha, and Rynn and now--whatever this meant. He felt like his world had broken apart, and now he had to carry all the pieces upon his aching back like some sort of Greek mythological tragic hero. Not that he thought that this made him a hero. Just unlucky.
Really unlucky. Maybe it was a curse after all.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Antha, infinitely cautious and unusually sweet, pressed her forehead gently to Cian's, ran her fingers briefly through his hair, and whispered, "Never you mind that, mon cheri. The old ones---the tribes and shadows of this city---are superstitious, and they will always regard our kind with suspicion. But you will be safe by me, and we will keep our watchful eyes on Rynn, and eventually this will fade away."
The others, watching carefully, regarded her words with doubt. "Your curse is the acts of your ancestors," Lawrence said quietly, hands clasped demurely behind his back like any proper gentleman, "And the manner in which your family met their end. There is a curse in the slaying of one's own kin, even when it is not through ritualistic means."
But Antha shushed him, gathering Cian to herself and laying a light kiss on his cheek. "There is a curse in being a witch," she said, eying Lawrence threateningly, "The superstitious ones will always think so, and they will always conspire against us. But they do not take us lightly, and when they cannot instantly eliminate us they withdraw and merely watch, cautiously. So it was for all of us, so it will be for you and Rynn. We will make sure of it." Her eyes flickered to each of her cousins in turn then, finishing with a bit more gravity to her words, "Won't we?"
This was when Dolly Jean ventured to speak again, drawing within five feet of the boy---and this was rather astonishing to those who knew her---and murmuring quietly, her gaze settled nervously on the ground as her cheeks pooled with blood, "We have to stick together, our kind. Vampires join together in covens, wolves in packs, and we have to band together too. It's the only way any of us ever survive."
"Precisely," Antha said quietly, smiling at Dolly Jean so that the girl beamed, greatly pleased with herself because Antha was pleased with her. "Besides," she added, brushing his hair from his eyes, "It is terrible to be alone. We would help you bear your burden, if you would let us."
For all their misgivings about Cian, the caution and suspicion, the Mayfairs made small sounds of agreement. Of all people, they knew the terrible weight of these burdens and they would not wish them upon any one person's shoulders.
"OR---" Singe cut in, plopping down beside the couch with Amadeo scratching frantically at his chest, trying to escape, "You could come join the Talamasca! We could be buddies and bug the hell out of Aaron Lightner day and night! Creep around the halls and pop out to scare Atticus any time we want."  

[Okimiyage]

Cian shut his eyes. His mouth formed the shape of a hollow laugh;
such kindness. He wondered--he had to, the thought rose like bile
in his throat--whether it was because perhaps they did believe he
was cursed, and pitied him. But that was foolishness, and he banished
the thought as quickly as it had come.
Dolly Jean was right, he realized. If he was going to make his way
in this world--well, he might have been able to do it alone. But it
would be a hell of a lot more advantageous to have allies, and he
would be a fool to refuse that. He shook himself free of Antha's
embrace, laying a kiss upon her brow and taking up her hand.
Glancing Dolly Jean's way, he risked throwing her a smile; to
Singe, the scratchings of a quiet mind upon the boy vampire's, he responded: I would meet this Aaron Lightner of yours, Atticus
and David and the others.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Instantly, the Mayfairs all went silent and rigid. "If he's going to join the Talamasca, we might as well kill him now," Vittorio threw out, with just a hint of some dark, morbid humor.
"Oh, shut up!" Antha hissed, taking from his bag a cotton ball and pressing it to the spot where the needle was embedded in her skin before sliding it out. Her movements had become suddenly very quick and agitated, and she met no one's eyes. "Nicolae, bedroom," she instructed him shortly, rising to her feet and stalking through the doors, Nicolae following silently on her heels to her room.
The remaining three Mayfairs watched them go quietly, almost nervously. Vittorio, who knew he had crossed some small line, packed his medical supplies away quickly and quietly, his dark hair falling over his light eyes. "So says the comical pet vampire of the Talamasca," Lawrence sneered, aware again that the boy vampire was a Talamascan. He was oddly disarming, this idiot.
Meanwhile, Antha and Nicolae had shut themselves away together in the sanctuary of her room, sitting together on the edge of her bed while Nicolae bit his wrist and Antha put it to her lips. The pain was considerable, enough so that she screamed and Nicolae folded her in his arms, let her cling to him. "Are we even going to talk about it?" Nicolae whispered when she had calmed down, the scratches and gashes along her body closed beneath the splatters of blood. The bruises on her neck had turned yellow and begun to recede, the bites at the center of them turned to pinpricks.
"Let it go," she sighed simply, cuddling briefly against his chest before withdrawing entirely, "We have much more pressing matters at hand. First and foremost, you're coming with us to Mayfair Manor. Uncle Stefan is too old for this world, and any breath may be his last. He deserves to see you before he goes."
"Fine," he hissed, shaking his head as she sorted through her dresses, trying to find something 'appropriate'.  

[Okimiyage]

Cian threw a moderately annoyed look at the ceiling. If that was all they were worried about, they need not have bothered. Joining the Talamasca was one thing, talking to them an entirely different thing. Singe, Cian was beginning to notice, had a knack for getting away with saying or doing things that probably would have gotten someone else killed. Or at least their ears boxed.
With a sigh, he collapsed onto the couch that Antha had abandoned, and spread his arms across the back, tilting his head upwards to stare at the ceiling.

Through the woods, a dark shape moved at utmost speed.
Vikteren stepped into the clearing about Satis House, his face coming into sharp focus under the moonlight. He was not presentable. His face smeared with blood, his hands and arms crusted with it, he stalked across the and cleared the porch of Satis House with a leap, landing crouched on the deck as silently as a ghost. Standing, he made his way soundlessly through the still-open door--Vittorio had not bothered to close it on his way in--and up the stairs, following Antha's scent, the fragrance of her blood, throughout the house and to her bedroom. Those in the library, if they were attentive, might see a dark shape flow like a shadow past the open doors as he made his way up to Antha's room. There, he stopped, and pressed his fist against the frame of the door. "Antha?" he called out. "I would speak with you." His voice was disarmingly calm, although he had a feeling that had it not formed a fist, his hand would have shook like a leaf.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Antha and Nicolae went quiet at the same time, their eyes staring at the door in unison. "Come in," she called after a moment, as Nicolae rolled his eyes and plopped over onto his back. "Go wash your face and change," she instructed her brother shortly, without so much as glancing at him.
The boy scoffed, staring up at the ceiling. "Like you wouldn't love the look on Julien's face if I showed up covered in blood and guts."
"This isn't about Julien," she hissed, working on the blood-encrusted buttons of her shirt and shrugging out of it, prying it from her skin and letting it drop to the floor. "It's ruined," she whined.
Nicolae rolled his eyes again, sighing, "You can have another one, it's not the end of the world." And then, abruptly, he bolted up and ran back to the bathroom, throwing up more of Sleet's flesh.
"Idiot," Antha sighed when he was gone, plucking a dress from her closet and hanging it on the lace screen in the corner. She turned to Vikteren then, her eyes so innocently curious one could almost forget what a powerful witch she was, and that few things escaped her. "Did you need something, ducky?"
Meanwhile, the Mayfair cousins were busy silently observing Cian. They gave the curious impression of staring at some other species, another form of being. The Calais family seemed strange to them, the children to whom family was everything and blood was worth more than diamonds, gold, and all the lives in the world. "But he could be part of the family," Dolly Jean mused suddenly, as if the long stretch of silence had secretly been some conversation between the three of them.
"Stop speaking nonsense, Dolly," Vittorio said, trying with all his might not to roll his eyes at her.
"Hold on!" Singe shouted, jumping up and rifling through the drawers of the desk Lawrence leaned against, "Let me find a pen and paper! David will want this word for word." The drawer shut abruptly on his hand, prompting first a loud shout and then hysteric laughter as he nursed his mending broken hand.  

[Okimiyage]

Vikteren stepped inside Antha's room, shutting the door behind him without so much as a creak. For the first time in what felt like days--but was admittedly most likely only hours--his shoulders untensed, and he went to Antha and put his hands out to her. "I don't mean to sound a nag," he said carefully, "but the next time that you decide to put yourself in mortal danger, would you mind letting us know about these ingenious plans of yours first?" He didn't know whether he wanted to take her up in his arms and--kiss her, or--
Actually, that sounded like an excellent idea.
Bending over her, he pushed her red curls back from her cheek and cupped the curve of her jaw, where her white skin had just begun to yellow with bruises. "Antha," he whispered, pressiing his lips to her brow, her cheek, whispering her name into her ear with the reverence of a pilgrim saint. It occurred to him that he was astonishingly unsettled at the idea that Antha should leave his life. Sitting back, he looked at her with eyes that softened only for her. "I would be most...distressed if you were to find yourself the victim of a violent death, Antha." he said, quietly. "Please."

Cian sat up, casting a worried glance at Singe before turning his attention upon Dolly Jean and the doctor. It was difficult to express his interest in continuing the conversation without resorting to words; perhaps he should consider investing in sign language classes. He sighed. The Mayfair girl's intentions were good, but in a family so acutely aware of the origin of their blood, Cian doubted he would ever be truly accepted. At most, he could expect to be used as some sort of experimental cross-breeding project, risking the outcome of mixing their tangled magic together for the sake of avoiding further inbreeding. Even if his offspring were monstrosities, scarcely human at all, there was always the possibility that they would not be. Rynn was the more ideal candidate, of course--he had been the Calais heir and the most powerful of their family. But Cian would do, in a pinch. He frowned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Family politics, he had a feeling, would be the death of him.  

[XCandy and LunacyX]

Slowly, the Cheshire smile touched Antha's lips, her arms sliding around his shoulders as she laid one brief kiss upon his own lips. "You all act as if I asked Sleet to steal me away. He came to the house in the middle of the day and there was nothing I could do to protect myself short of killing him. Can I help that?" Her bloodied fingers twined briefly in his dark hair as she emitted a barely audible sigh. It was one of those rare moments when Antha was oddly herself, without a part to play, an appearance to keep up. "Uncle Stefan did not take the news well, though," she murmured, closing her eyes as if to shut out the world, everything beyond herself and Vikteren, "We're going to Mayfair Manor now, to see him. The future can't seem to make up it's mind, you see, but the chances are ill in his favor. In all likelihood, he will be the one to die tonight."
It was the last thing they needed in that moment, some great shift in the power structure of their family. The fact that Julien would be the one gaining power only made the situation that much worse for her. He was pest enough as he was---becoming head of the family, she feared she might have to kill him to have some peace. "At any rate," she sighed errantly, releasing Vikteren and turning to pluck the dress from it's hanger, "Seeing me in such a state will do nothing for his fragile condition. If I am not the perfect pretty little doll, he will have an absolute fit. He was always like Louis in that respect..." And then she was gone, down the hall and back to the bathroom, kicking Nicolae out and shutting the door on him a moment before the shower began.
"Finally," Lawrence sighed, closing his eyes and shaking his head as he heard the sudden rush of water through the pipes in the walls, "We will be going soon, then. So, Mr. Calais, have you quite made up your mind?"
"Don't listen to him," Vittorio said, shooting Lawrence a look, "He lives in a state of perpetual bitterness. I told him he shouldn't be a lawyer, his nerves couldn't handle it, but did he listen to me? No, he was going to follow in his father's footsteps. Now look at him---he's going to be the next family caretaker." Dolly Jean, trying very hard not to laugh (and it showed), ventured to sit tentatively on the edge of the couch Cian occupied, watching her cousins with anticipation.
But Lawrence was in the mood to disappoint. "Do you know anything of the working of our family, Mr. Calais?" he asked, pausing only a split second before continuing on anyways, "There are two groups within the Mayfair family: the 'mainstreams', and everyone else with the name. The 'mainstreams' are the more powerful witches among us, the ones with something to contribute to our legacy. Within this group of 'mainstreams'---I never did like being called that---there are three key positions. Most important is the Designee of the Legacy, of course, the center of the Mayfair universe. The Designee is the one the curse revolves around, and the owner of both Mayfair Manor and all of the family's assets, from heirlooms to our rather vast fortune. The first was, technically, Suzanne Mayfair, and the title has been passed down from mother to daughter since then, along with the iconic Mayfair emerald you never see Antha without. Second is the head of the family, a little less than affectionately referred to as 'lapdog to the Designee'. They oversee all the matters in governing the family that the Designee does not wish to. Finally is the caretaker of the family---the one that deals with the press, the businesses, all the legal trouble we tend to find ourselves in...you get the picture. Again, the caretaker takes orders from the Designee, just like the rest of us."
"Uncle Stefan---he's the one who's sick now---he's the current head of the family. When he dies---" Lawrence and Vittorio both shot her dirty looks, which she didn't notice, "---Julien will become head of the family."