Night in The Secret World
There was a rope line, and people waiting to get in. This was good; it showed the power of good marketing and word of mouth in the modern world. Thierry sat at a table near the bar, looking at the door to The Secret World, the new hot spot night club opened in the refurbished Lincoln Park district.

There had been plenty of press, you see. While Lincoln Park had reopened, and people and businesses had moved back in, this was huge: a major club developer opening his new club. And Raoul de la Croix was a big name. Theirry should know; he’d been Raoul’s right hand man for forty years.

After the… unpleasantness in Las Vegas, Thierry hadn’t been sure what his boss had in mind. He’d been shocked when he was told Chicago was where they were headed. And even more shocked when he was told that they were going to be selling some of their usually designer drugs on the streets. But the Vegas incident had cost them a lot of money. And it was done at such a remove that it would be next to impossible to trace it back to them. And the money had been great.

But this was what it was really about. A new club. The big band was playing, and the singer not only sounded like Sinatra, but looked the part. Raoul had never been a fan of these new dance clubs. He preferred an older style. But at least he had moved out of the nineteenth century. There was a dance floor, there were lovely waitresses in elegant dresses serving from the bar, and the clientele was all up scale. No hotel heiresses or ‘tween acting sensations. This was all class.

“Sir?” Thierry looked up at the man across from him. Parsons had been another employee of Raoul’s for the past fifteen years. Thierry didn’t like the addict, but his handle on Second Sight gave them a certain advantage when many of your clientele had multiple natures.

“Yes?”

“The blonde walking in? She’s a Slayer.” Thierry grunted and stood up, and walked towards her. It had been annoying enough when there was one Slayer. Now that there were dozens or hundreds? It was worse.

The blonde in question was no other than Bethany Richards, a very well known dark Slayer and intelligent businesswomen. She knew who to keep close and who to keep at a distance, it was all part of crafting the perfect business relationships, knowing what would and what wouldn't make you a good profit. Bethany was very good at what she did. It was the distinct success she had made not only in Vegas, but in Chicago as well that had drawn the attention of other business owners, this one having extended an invite to the grand opening of their new club.

Curiosity dictated that she must at the very least attend and get a read on the situation.

She'd dressed for the part in the elegant black cocktail dress that accentuated the delicate curve of her neck and the slender slope of both shoulders, feet decorated by only the finest of stiletto heels. In her hand there was a clutch purse containing the bare necessities that she needed to get by, no weapon to hand, but that was not to say she wasn't armed, the beguiling pins in her hair were far more than a pretty way of keeping her hair immacutely set.

A sharp sense of her surroundings caused her to tilt her head and rest a brown gaze on the man now approaching her, she was unfaltering and apparently unmoved by his sudden approach.

Thierry approached the woman, and did his best to look like he was enjoying himself. He was a facilitator and a major domo, not a doorman, but he did what the boss said. He remembered the guest list he had been given, and knew there was one Slayer who had been invited. If this wasn't her, there would probably be a fight, which they didn't need. Hopefully, the people who had been spreading the word to their real clientele had been as careful as expected.

Thierry smiled at the blonde woman and stopped slightly out of arm's reach. "Ms. Richards? I'm Thierry, Mr. de la Croix's associate. I'm here to show you around."

Bethany's gaze swept over Thierry as he introduced himself and then merely passed her gaze away from him and to the club itself. "How fascinating." She turned her clutch purse over and simply stepped her blood red nails atop of the fine material, letting her attention return to Thierry. "Lead the way."

She was reserving judgment until she'd had a better look around and gotten to know the club itself.

The Slayer herself had already turned heads and continued to do so as her hips moved in sinful movements once she'd fallen into step beside Thierry.

Thierry lead Bethany through the main floor of the club, telling her about the bar, about the band, about all the mundane things. He had been told to give her a full tour of the front of the club before leading her down into the real club, where Raoul was waiting. The boss knew he would have to make an appearance here before the night was out, but he prefered to do it late, when the minds of the people would be clouded by drink and drowsiness.

After finishing the general tour, Raoul stopped at the table he had been sitting at. "Parsons," he said to the skinny man sitting there, "keep your eye on the door. If anyone who seems off comes through, call my cell."

"Yes, sir," replied Parsons.

"Now, Ms. Richards, I've been asked to lead you into the private areas, and to Mr. de la Croix. Would you like anything before we head down?"

Bethany had trailed in Thierry's step, taking in what he had to say with a few nods of her head. She did find herself wondering when the real tour would begin and she would be blessed with a release from this otherwise dull exploration.

She nodded her head and tapped her fingers against her clutch purse. "I could do with a drink, preferably a dry Martini."

Thierry gestured towards the bar, and a waitress slinked over to him. "A Martini for the lady, dry." The waitress was gone and back in record time. Everyone knew that when Thierry asked for something, it was to be done right off. The waitress presented the drink to Bethany and was gone.

"Now, if you'll follow me." Thierry walked to a door to the right of the bar. It wasn't the kitchen door, which was on the other side of the bar, but could easily be mistaken for it. He opened the door and held it open for Bethany and after she had passed through, he followed her in. The room was very plain, except for another door at the far end. Thierry walked to the door, plucked a key on a chain from around his neck, and unlocked the door. The staircase led downwards.

When it reached one reached the bottom of the stairs, the scene was a study in opulence. There were divans and couches, all in velvet, and lounging on them were men and women, all scantily clad. Some wore their vampire faces quite evidently. The room was lit by candles in holders on the wall, and the effect was either erotic or terrifying, depending on your predilections. On one of the couches, a lovely young vampire in a red leather corset and flowing skirts sat with a state senator, and as Thierry watched, she led him down the halls.

"Welcome, Ms. Richards, to the real Secret World."

It was all very... dramatic, that much Bethany noted as she was led through corridors, through secret doors and down winding stairs. Apparently they had gone to some effort to mask the true belly of the beast, an effort she herself had made in Vegas, only not so... theatrically. She took the last step off the stairs and then allowed herself a moment of observation, running her keen eye over the decor along with its occupants.

Slayer senses prickled with the presence of demons amongst humans, it was easy enough to ignore.

"It's very dramatic," she remarked before taking a sip from her drink. "Of course with that elaborate walk I should have expected as much." The Slayer's lips twitched in the corners before her fingers closed around the cocktail stick and she dragged the olive into her mouth. "Clearly your boss has a touch for the Gothic, given the leather couches and the lighting." She watched as the vampire in red led a man away and down the halls, wondering what he got his kicks from: sex games or being fed on? She was leaning towards the latter with a touch of the former later on.

"You are quite correct, Ms. Richards," came a voice from the hallway. Out of one of the back rooms strode Raoul de la Croix. He bore a resemblance to every bad vampiric stereotype: tall, lean, long hair tied back, shirt open half way to reveal most of his chest. He wore a grin that was inviting and possibly terrifying, at least if you were alone and on the other end of it. His accent was European, although exactly from what part of Europe would be difficult to pinpoint. "I do love the Gothic ideal. It reminds me of some of the more pleasant times of my long life."

As Raoul approached, he smiled and nodded at Thierry. "Thank you for showing my guest down. Please make sure everything is happening properly upstairs."

"Of course." With that, Thierry slipped off.

"Thank you for accepting my invitation, Ms. Richards. Or may I call you Bethany?" Raoul sat down, stretching across a divan, looking relaxed. But anyone who knew predators could tell he was tightly wrapped beneath his exterior, that there was something in there waiting to spring if need be.

Bethany couldn't help but arch an eyebrow at Raoul's appearance, especially with the shirt the way that it was. Attractive man, yes, but he had very odd dress sense. She supposed it stemmed from him having lived through a different time, one that Bethany herself had no comprehension of because she was a babe in comparison to Raoul and many of her other demonic acquaintances.

"Bethany will suffice," she answered as she remained poised on the tips of her heels, glass held casually in her hand. "I'm sure the Gothic looks works wonders with most." She could imagine young women falling over themselves for a touch of it, that tingle of excitement and the allure of dancing with the devil. She turned her gaze to him and allowed herself a moment to truly observe him, finding that beyond the smile and charm was a different person altogether, one to not underestimate.

She turned and ventured over to a nearby chair, settling her lithe figure into it before sliding one long leg over the other. "And what do I call you?"

"Raoul, of course. A lovely creature such as yourself and I should be on a first name basis." Raoul straightened slightly, and looked at Bethany more clinically. The look in his eyes was now one of sizing up an opponent, or at least someone to be respected. "I've heard much about you, both here and in Las Vegas. I know you are someone not to be trifled with. Thus the invitation. I do not know if you wish to partake of any of the pleasures offered here, but would you like a further tour? To truly understand what it is we do?"

Bethany didn't mind anybody else setting up business as long as they shared a mutual understanding that there was... etiquette and rules to be followed, one of which was to leave her turf well enough alone and in exchange she would return the favour. Undoubtedly there would be some sort of exchange in order to preserve the delicate balance, but that much could be understood across the world, it was only wise business sense.

"I do like understanding," she remarked before finishing her drink, the glass now marred with the red outline of her mouth was rested on the nearby table. "Please, lead the way."

Raoul stood up, stretching like a big cat, and then began to walk to the door he had come out of. Behind it was a hallway, lined with doors. "As you can imagine, much of my business does require a degree of anonymity, but some of the patrons enjoy the thrill of being watched." He stopped at a door with a window in it, and gestured at it. The state senator from earlier was reclining on a bed, with the vampire drinking from his inner thigh. On the nightstand next to the bed was a discarded needle.

"The use of Orpheus is one of the cornerstones of my business. It attracts some humans who seek the additional high, and there is a limited market of businesses that provide humans willing to use it. I emply both humans and vampires to cater to both sides of my clientele. I also employ some shape-shifters, but of course due to the phase of the moon, they are not particularly in demand at this moment."

Raoul walked further down the hall, and a door opened. A large man walked out, dressed in leather, leading a woman in her mid forties behind him, her wrists tied together. They headed towards a different room and disappeared into it. "Of course, some of the demands are more... pedestrian, but we do not pass judgement here."

Bethany turned her clutch purse over in her hand before she wandered alongside Raoul, listening him talk about his business and casting an eye to her surroundings.

"Of course not," she remarked as her eye followed the large man in leather with the bound woman. "That would be rather counterproductive." She'd heard mention of Orpheus from passing acquaintances and visitations from some of her more supernatural of friends, not that she herself had extended much of a reach to it.

At the next door, Raoul stopped and swung it open, but he stayed outside and hidden by the door. The room was full of couches, and spread out over them were people, staring off into space. "The other drug of choice here is Second Sight. It spreads to doors of perception wide. All of these fine upstanding citizens are attempting to see the wrold in a completely new way. I would be careful, though. It allows the viewer to see the inner nature of anyone who steps in front of them. I'm told that viewing a vampire while unprepared and under the influence of Second Sight can be... unplesant."

"It very much is," said a voice from behind Raoul and Bethany. Raoul shut the door and turned to the man. He was tall and exceptionally thin, and was dressed in a black suit that seemed to heighten his thinness.

"Ah, Burroughs. I'm glad you're here. Bethany, this is Burroughs. He is our resident chemist and wizard, the man responsible for all our pharmocoligcal and alchemical wonders."

Burroughs simply nodded at Bethany, his lizard-like eyes looking her over. "Charmed."

Bethany folded her arms across her chest and closed her fingers around her upper arms, taking the time to acquaint herself with her surroundings. Intricate came to mind. "I feel no need to indulge in mind altering substances," she shared with a lift of her shoulders. "My life is intense enough without them."

She turned her head and met Burroughs' strange eyes, offering a smile. "Pleasure to meet you."

Burroughs' lips twitched, never really forming a smile, and then he turned back to Raoul. "The production of the next bacth is neqrly complete. With the club open, you said to change the distribution to fifty keep, fifty out, correct?"

Raoul rolled his eyes, "Yes, yes, Burroughs. But you know better than to talk about business on front of guests?" He gestured at Bethany and smiled at her. His teeth were pointed, his canines extended, even in his human guise. "You know how scientists and mages are; they are always in their own world. And when you combine them? A wicked combination."

Burroughs already sullen face shifted into something even more scowl-like. "I understand, Raoul. I'll return to my work." Burroughs simply turned around and headed the way he had come.

"He is tempermental, but there is no one better in his line of work, so it is tolerated." Raoul and Bethany had reached the end of the hall, and there was only one room left. "Ah, yes. This is the end of the tour, so to speak. My private quarters. Is there anything else you would be interested in knowing? In the... spirit of full disclosure?"

"I think my boyfriend might have something to say about that," Bethany remarked as she gave Raoul the touch of a teasing smile, knowing full well that he hadn't meant it like that.

She hitched her shoulders up. "Just wondering how you came about the drugs and how they were thought up."

Raoul shrugged nonchalantly. "Over my many centuries of life, I have found it best to know what the cattle want and how best to exploit it. The Orpheus is something that has been made, in one form or another, for a very long time. It is a challenge to find someone who can manufacture it, but Burroughs is a wonder. The Second Sight, on the other hand, is actually a creation of Burroughs. My people use it to keep an eye on those who come into my establishment. One of the marvelous side effects is it allows the user a view of the aura and true nature of those they view.

"And your boyfriend need not worry," said Raoul, with a grin. "My tastes run to slightly... different fare." He knocked at the door, and opened it. A girl, no more than fifteen, and that was being generous, was waiting for him. She wore a long, silk dressing gown. "Genevieve, darling, this is Ms. Richards. Say hello."

"Hello," said the girl. Her eyes didn't focus on Bethany; she was either high or quite insane.

Raoul licked his fangs as he looked at her, the gesture unconsious. He shook his head slightly, and then turned back to Bethany. "I shall call Thierry to escort you back to the main floor, yes?"

Bethany never thought she could find herself repulsed by anything and yet she found her stomach turned by the thought of Raoul with that girl who couldn't have been any older than fifteen.

She did have some standards.

"I suppose I'll leave you to your cradle snatching then," the Slayer remarked with a lift of her eyebrow. "Goodbye, Raoul." And with all the presence and elegance possessed by a woman of Bethany's age and position she turned and purposefully strode in the other direction.

She'd seen all that she needed to.

(Raoul & Company by Matt)