Lines

[Clara E. Verne]

The moon was in a Waxing Crescent on this still Summer night. It looked small against an empty night sky. Fair Oaks was a curious mix of suburbia, hotels, and tourists. The streets were practically empty and clean; with the Summer coming to a close most visitors had left the homes and hotels vacant. Streetlights provided islands of light in the vast night, but still cast shadows that twisted into a vague Rorschach's shape of nightmares out of the corner of the eye. Fair Oaks looked pretty because kine worked to make it so, but even among the beauty monsters hid in open sight.

The guesthouse was rented out under Leaves' Airbnb for the weekend. It was a tiny home with pale white walls and a sloped tiled roof. Privacy was the first thing in mind when Clara had Leaves rent the house with her money: it was fenced off from the main house, the owners were out of town, and it was sandwiched in-between two two-story townhouses. That, coupled with the lemon tree growing in front of the doll-like house, made it hard to find if you didn't know what to look for.

Clara was lounging on a black floating chair in the pool. A Bluetooth speaker nearby was blasting a song. Clara was lazily bobbing to it, the heart-shaped sunglasses shifting a bit on her vacant expression. The Bacchante had slipped into a black one piece swimsuit with a white Sicilian bow tie tied under her cleavage. A foot lazily played with the luminescent green water as she stared out into space.

She had told John to come meet her here. The Priscus of Clan Daeva wanted her due. The way Doctor Simmons hounded him like a shark that smelled blood indicated there was more there with the First Estate. And then there's the Prince's own known displeasure of him. Clara thought on the huge liability that she called cousin and what the next move would be.

[Clara E. Verne]

Clara debated who could be knocking for the briefest of moments. Then she felt that familiar tug in her gut. Distant but distinct. She hopped off the lounge chair and slipped under the water's surface. The Bacchante took two and a half strokes before climbing out of the pool and throwing her wet mop of hair out of her features.

She picked up a waiting towel and didn't quite dry herself off, but made it so she didn't drip water as she walked. In the backyard, secluded by fences and a tall gazebo, there was no need to falsify life. Up front there could be eyes. Clara walked through the furnished home with the towel wrapped around her waist and coaxed life into her cheeks and limbs. At the door, her instinct to punch through the wood was distinct but she relaxed her more brutal impulse and opened it.

"John." She said with a distinct lack of surprise. No usual flirty hello or tease; Clara was looking at her cousin critically. "Well come in." The inside was carpeted white with plush cashmere and decorated with furniture that had distinct nautical themes. A couch with the frame of what looked like a small fishing boat hull, polished to a dark sheen. Ottomans crowned with plush sea-green and blue pillows made out of barrels. Three different mounted fish trophies; one immediately adjacent to the front door, one in the modest kitchen, and one in the living room.

Clara closed the door behind John as soon as he entered and walked around him to pick up her phone from the backyard. She switched off the music and stood for a long moment with the green glow of the pool highlighting her features. She turned to look at him over her shoulder and spoke in a breathy whisper, so low Davis would have to strain to hear her. "I'm now Whip Verne, John. But I'd still ask you to call me Clara when in private." Whips were curious unofficially official assholes. But there were gentler ways to whip. "Did you find the place okay? No trouble or draw any attention unto yourself?"

[Clara E. Verne]

Clara regarded John for a moment. None of the usual verbosity. Curious. She turned on a heel and walked into the house. A fresh towel had been laid out on the sofa beforehand and Clara settled into it as she removed the heart-shaped sunglasses from her face. "Thanks," she said flatly.

"Sit, please." She'd wait a moment. Whether he chose to sit or stand, Clara continued shortly after, "You've had some bad nights, John. I've seen a few and heard of twice as many. Let's be open with each other and lay all our cards out on the table." She reached towards the coffee table directly in front of the sofa, pulled a cabinet, and fished out a pack of tarot cards. "You like cards, right?" She asked with a smile.

"My Brother loved these. Not these specifically, I bought them of Etsy. But he loved how universal these could be. If you'd indulge me." Delicate fingers traced over the black and gold of the deck. She set the deck on the coffee table and flipped over the first card. It was The Hanged Man. "I'm no Crone, so I won't read your fortune, but I chose this card to represent you. This is the card to meditate on to help break old patterns of behavior and bad habits that restrict." Her eyes fluttered and blinked at John.

"Do you think you have bad habits, John?"

[Clara E. Verne]

Was that fear that had flashed across John's face? Clara chuckled and nodded at his reaffirming that no, Clara hadn't joined the Circle. "Maybe these cards can be teachers," she intoned lightly.

She listened to John's answer. "See, that's a non-answer if I ever heard one. When the Prince has made her displeasure of you known, it's wise to give yourself a good long look, hey, John?" Clara let the statement hang in the air before continuing. The night had precious few hours and fixing John of his every little flaw would only take until dawn.

"Now comes the main reason I've asked you here." She pulled the next card; it was the Nine of Rings. "This card I think you'll find interesting. It represents financial stability. Someone supported by their own business or land." Big doe eyes flashed up to look at John. "Can you think of anyone who'd want this?" John had only asked for Tenancy half a hundred times since coming to Sacramento.

"Funny enough, this card also specifically is for someone who turns the worst situation around to their benefit. That's what I want to talk about tonight. This is an opportunity, John, if only you give me the chance to explain it."

"Let me explain the first step to achieve what this card represents. Priscus Moretti is insulted. She is demanding Prestation for your outburst in her direction during the meeting. Settling up with the Priscus will help to ensure Clan Daeva won't openly hound you. We need to present a unified front and you're one of us. Once you've made the Boon public she will not speak out against your name."

"I'm sure you can see how beneficial this would be for you. It'll give you time and, with Prestation made public, the matter will have been settled. To dredge it up any further would only be a weakness. For either of you."

[Clara E. Verne]

"Here we'll stop for a moment. Priscus Moretti's grievance is only the most pressing. That I know about," she said as her pale fingers set the deck face down on the coffee table. "So let's talk about debts and how you'll use them." She crossed one leg over another and leaned back into her towel. Her hands, free of cards to play with, rested in her lap.

"I'm sure you've been able to surmise why I'm talking to you about habits and building up your position in Sacramento. The Priscus wants nothing to do with you until she sees value in you staying in Sacramento."

"I've given my word that you have value to give the domain." Clara paused to study John as she said that last sentence. Then she continued. "I can't afford to be surprised should Priscus Moretti or any of our clan approach me with a fresh grievance. I would look foolish and you might no longer have a Whip advocating on your behalf. I need to know each and every offense against you. Including the private ones. Especially the private ones." Clara made it clear she wanted to hear it all. To confirm rumors and see if there was something she didn't know already.