Louis cell phone was blowing up.

He was strewn across his bed for the rare moment of downtime when he noticed it picking up.

What do you think she's going to do?

Are you going?

WHO do you think will be there?

Scrolling through it, he was growing apathetic.

Louis panned through several of his webcam feeds and recordings, watching certain people pick up a newspaper and read about the upcoming event.

One stop to a horse ranch later, Louis scooped a paper off of Augustine Prices' long driveway, standing there as he consumed the message himself.

He'd give that Olivia credit when credit was due- she was one cutthroat bitch if he'd ever seen one. Minute the king was gone she was rearing her ugly claws into the position, that woman, mm-mm-mm, like a bowl Campbell's soup good. His mind rolled, fantasizing about taking a canister of gasoline and lining the palace with it with everyone inside. Would be a dramatic time to launch a rebellion, but an ill-timed event. It would be expected, perhaps on some level, invited by this woman. Better to clear the air of any protesters upfront than let them linger and create insidious, underground plans. 

Everything said...he had no intention of attending. Not personally, at least. He was sure he would get the play by play in the days following through his own unique grapevine methodology. 

City politics licked his fancy as much as missionary position. He could already see it- a bunch of bullshitters paying fanfare, arriving with pretty little bow covered boxes all for the future Daughter of Dusk,  golly wolly, hope we make a good impression! 

It was a good move on her part, he reckoned, something that would be interesting to see unfold. If he had his way, the 'peace' that she wished to enact would go terribly awry, splinter into infinite conflict and confusion that nobody could explain. Chaos of the universe can't be avoided. Talk of social harmony were pretty words for weak minds. He reckoned the majority of the city would fall hook line and sinker...which would make it all the more abhorrent when it all fell apart, as all things did. Like the King before her, a day would come where Olivia herself would be gone, and the cycle would repeat. Over and over and over again. He got pretty damn tired, following the illusions, pretending change was anything other than transitory, dancing with fantasies of reigns that were by definition, finite. He'd play his role, as he always did-- build to destroy, and then in the reverse. His role didn't dress up fancy and drink martinis while chumming it up. Louis waited, in the empty space between what people thought they knew and where the actual truth existed, seizing the blindness of their optimism for his own selfish pleasures.

Day 1:

Rudy cracked his knuckles, as was his custom, as he sat in the lobby of the Midnight Court Hotel. He despised waiting, second only to small talk with people he didn't like. Both required large amounts of patience, something Rudy had always lacked. However, what he lacked in patience, he more than made up in cunning, and the cunning man learned to blend in. 

"Your room is ready Mr. Puttanesca," said an overly eager bellhop. "Shall I carry your bags to the room?"

"No thank you," Rudy replied, sticking out his hand dismissively. He didn't want some eager mortal looking for a tip to see the inside of his private space. Staying in hotels was his only escape from sharing a home with both young no nothings, and a stubborn ancient who know far too much. Only Billy the Bull knew where his boss had gone to, and instructions had been clear. DO. NOT. DISTURB. 

It would be the same for those eager little maids in the morning. A sign on the door would tell them to fuck off, and if they didn't it would be there very early funeral. The Puttanesca Don hadn't a moment's peace since moving to the city of Dusk. It was to be expected. Setting up an operation took a fuck ton of work, and with only Billy and a few of his crew working the streets, Rudy had started picking up all the dead weight. It had gotten so bad, that after brutally murdering a Setite who'd held clan loyalty above his own life, Rudy had told Billy that he needed the next three nights to himself. 

"I don't fucking care what that cunt Theodora says," he'd told Billy. "Let her skull face come find me here if she really needs me." 

"Should I tell her you called her a cunt," Billy asked, with a fresh faced smile. Rudy frowned. "No." 

Rudy began to walk to his room but turned back to Billy, crossing fast and with the power his strong body commanded. "You're getting a little smart," he accused. "Remember to show me proper respect, or I'll assign you to teach her how a cellphones works." 

Awe, the many forms of torture: Waterboarding, beatings, clipping off fingers, and of course the worst of all, explaining modern tech to a 1500 year old ancient. "I got you boss. You said she was the sweetest lady in the family," Billy replied fearfully. 

"You're learning," Rudy answered, his tone starting to warm again. "Now, get out of here. Go make us some money." Billy noded respectfully and left the hotel with haste. Rudy smirked. "I like that little bastard, jokes and all." With that, he picked up his elegant Italian luggage, and headed up to his penthouse. The Hecata laid out on the bed, and started at the celling. "Awe," he said to nobody. "Fucking quiet at last." 

Day 2:

Rudy had spent the majority of the day asleep. The maids had stayed away as requested, and the curtains had been taped down to the wall to prevent even the smallest amount of sunlight from creeping into the room. In the early evening, Rudy dressed and went down to the hotel bar, using the blood within him to look alive. He sat and ordered a scotch. The Hecata's eyes moved about the lobby when he finally spotted someone interesting. She had dark hair, soft white skin, and green eyes. She was human. He could smell it. 

"Bartender," he said, "send that lady whatever she's drinking." The bartender nodded and made a Manhattan, walking over and placing it on the table. He pointed back to Rudy who nodded his head with a polite smile. She smiled back, sipping the drink. He almost walked over to her. He wouldn't mind some nice warm human on him, and he could always wipe her memory if he wanted to feed. However, a man walked up and joined her, and the pair kiss. The bitch was married. 

"Why did she accept my drink then," Rudy complained to the bartender. "She was just trying to lead me on," he concluded. It wouldn't be the first time a woman had lead him around by the balls and given nothing back. Still, he wouldn't let one little human ruin his night. He turned back and found the empty seat next to him had been filled by a drop dead gorgeous blonde. She had that buisness bitch look about her. She ate men in the pant suit and crisp white dress shirt, a pair of black heels in her hand. 

"Gaston, please give me something fruity this evening," the blonde woman said. She turned with a smile and held out a delicate hand, nails sharp and crimson. "Mr. Puttanesca," she asked, her upward inflection implying it was a question .

"Yeah," he replied, wary of anyone who would dare call him by name. "How do you know me?"

"It's my job to know these things," the woman replied. "Olivia Pane, first Daughter of Dusk., but please call me Samantha Kline."  She grinned. Rudy could tell she was a fanger, and based on the look was likely a rose. 

"Nice to meet you," he said, going through the required social graces. "What does a 'Daughter of Dusk' want with a guinea like me," Rudy asked, not trying to hide the mocking way he said Olivia's self appointed title. 

"Come now Mr. Puttanesca," Olivia replied. "Let's not make it seem like you're some nobody." She spun in her chair and handed him a black envelope. Rudy carefully took it. "If you're asking for a date, you're not really my type," he replied with a harsh laugh. "I'm more into brunettes." 

Olivia laughed harshly, and leaned in, her face a little harder than before. "Mr. Puttanesca, I assure you that should I like to, you'd be kissing my feet and thanking me for it. No. No. No. I'm here to invite you to a meeting of the powerful. Come to my home in two nights time for a party. You won't regret it." 

Without another word, Olivia rose and walked away from Rudy, leaving him at the bar with his undrunk scotch. He opened the envelope and tried to make sense of it's silver, cursive writing. Whatever could be said of this Olivia, she was respectful enough to invite him in person. Rudy did also love events where he could dress up. "Hmmmm," he grumbled. He whipped out his cell. "Billy, tell Thodora to get her best mask on. We're going to a party, and I need you to look into a name for me. Ready? Samantha Kline. I want it all." With that he hung up, and swirled the ice in his drink. He had a lot to think about. 

Day 3:

Rudy's 2 nights and days in the hotel had been the exact kind of refreshing he'd wanted, and now he looked through his suitcase for an outfit worthy of Olivia's party. A knock came on his room door. Rudy crossed the suite and opened the door, admitting Billy into the room. 

"What did you find," Rudy asked impatiently. "I need to know how to get some leverage on her just in case. She found me without trying." 

"It's not much boss," Billty conceded. "She keeps squeaky clean. She married a guy for his money. He died. She became the most eligible widow in the city. I wasn't shocked to learn she had no history under that name before her marriage, but..." Billy tossed a file on the desk. Rudy began tearing through it. Several pictures showed a series of women who looked just like Olivia at several points in the city's history. He was starting to get the whole Daughter of Dusk thing. "I think she's making a play for the leadership," Rudy concluded. "She probably thinks she's earned it for being here so long." 

"What's the play boss," Billy asked. Rudy thought for a long time. "We go. We even let her make her move. We need her to look the other way on what we're doing. Perhaps we can be associates."

"And if she gets in our way," Billy asked. 

Rudy grinned. "Then we find people who want to string her up by her pretty little heels and get them to pay us to do it," Rudy concluded. "Either way, we win." 

"For the Hecata," Billy said with pride. "For the family," Rudy answered, and  then he resumed making preparations. His three day holiday was over.

Vai made a point to keep up with the local printed media, even more so after the hunters swept through the city. The pack would not be caught unaware again - losing a few pups in the city streets had been an unforgivable act. Ethan had found the twins face down in a dirty alleyway with silver bullets in the backs of their heads. While it was true that none of them feared death, being put down like a sick dog without a chance to fight was abhorrent.

It was on a crisp evening on the porch of her small cabin that Vai flipped open a copy of the The Longaevitas Journal to that bitch Olivia's letter. The wolf grimaced in disdain as she translated the message - surly this marked the beginning of things. She didn't give much of a shit about who ran things in the busy part of the city so long as they left the forest - and the Sanctum - alone. That was one thing Ludwig did right - but she would rather bite off her right hand than call that fool King. The worst part about his death was the chaos it left behind. Time would only tell whether or not someone would come seeking foothold in the wood again. The Bastards would have to prepare for war.

She closed the journal quietly, leaning back in her chair and gazing into the night sky. Someone would have to attend this meeting. The question of the evening was - who would be accompanying Vai to the party? She scowled.

Time had passed since Samantha had invited him to the party. Louis was long gone, and Coalji had been working feverishly at his work desk. It was late, and he had turned on the lamp to see the detail of the wood he was carving. The duskborn didn't have much to offer, but he could use his craftmanship to make the woman a jewelry box. It had taken a while, to work the finer details out. Tonight he had concluded the finishing touches.

Being so out of touch with the supernatural world, he never saw the paper, and was unaware of the importance of the party itself. All he knew was that it was an honor to be invited- one that he did not take lightly.