The look Connor gave Ravyn at the sound of Hollister’s words was one of pure shock, and more than a little worry. Though it was their Prince who then spoke again, “I must admit, you have an uncanny sense of timing, Ravyn,” he smirked.
She tried to swallow a sound of frustration before responding, “I realize it sounds ridiculous, if not impossible---”
Hollister interrupted though, “I wasn’t being sarcastic, dear.”
That threw her slightly as both Ravyn and Connor gave him a questioning look. “You weren’t?” she asked warily.
“I actually spoke to the Prince of Berlin just a few nights ago,” Hollister began the slightest explanation.
“You did?” Ravyn stated softly, she and Connor both wearing skeptical looks at receiving that information.
“World events have definitely created a bit more communication between Raynor and every other Kindred Prince this side of the Atlantic, somehow,” he added the last word wryly.
“Raynor?” Ravyn asked as she continued to watch Hollister’s expression.
“The Prince of Berlin,” he stated simply.
Ravyn continued to watch him warily before asking her next question, “And what’s his opinion of their current human leader, then?”
Hollister scoffed slightly, “War isn’t good for anyone, Kindred or human. So, needless to say, Raynor’s not a fan.”
“OK, so that’s good for us then I suppose,” Ravyn continued to speak warily.
“Still, don’t get your hopes up too high. Raynor is still, well, Raynor,” Hollister rolled his eyes slightly as he spoke, taking another sip of his drink.
“OK, and that means, what?” she asked with further caution.
“The other reason he’s not happy with the current human government, besides the war? Hitler has way too much power. Enough to interfere with both our worlds. And no one in Raynor’s clan has ever been particularly fond of anyone with too much power; especially a mortal,” Hollister warned.
“Raynor’s clan?” Ravyn asked with continued wariness.
“He’s a Prince. Three guesses,” Hollister replied in a derisive tone.
“So he’s a Ventrue?” Ravyn sighed heavily, to which Hollister only nodded his affirmation. “Still,” she began a moment later, “if he hates that dictator too, that still puts us on the same side then, right?”
“As much as any Ventrue Princes could ever be on the same side as any Toreador Princes. He’s never been a big fan of me or my Parisian brother,” Hollister scoffed again. “But yes, none of the Kindred Princes are happy with the war, which makes us at least tentative allies, at any rate.”
Ravyn sighed again before continuing, “So, do you think he would allow me to move to his city once he hears why I want to?” she pressed onward.
“And that’s exactly what I meant when I said you have an uncanny sense of timing,” Hollister stated plainly.
“Not sure I follow,” she replied questioningly.
“I’ll have to discuss this plan of yours with Raynor, of course. And I’m sure it will still take a bit of convincing, considering how little Ventrue enjoy our way of dealing with humans. But, there’s something that Raynor needs from our clan that may just possibly sway him to consider allowing you to try this crazy plan of yours,” he told her with a muted hopefulness to his tone.
“He needs something from us?” she asked with her own tinge of hope to go with her skepticism.
“And a Ventrue admitting to needing anything at all from a Toreador? That’s what puts us in a rare position to negotiate, and possibly even convince him to help you with your plan,” Hollister pointed out.
Ravyn narrowed her emerald eyes at his words before responding, “What exactly is it that he needs?”
“A new Toreador Primogen.”
“What?” Ravyn responded, then quickly continued. “But I’m already Sean’s Primogen,” she attempted to reason.
Hollister gave her a pointed look, “In Los Angeles? Where you haven’t even been for four years? And where everyone in the city believes you’re dead? I’m going to take a wild guess that the position has been filled by someone else by now, darling.”
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“But...”
“This is a good thing, Ravyn. He needs something from us, and I just explained that this is the leverage we actually need if you want to try to live in his city, let alone accomplish anything else while you’re there,” Hollister explained.
“But I mean, what about the logistics of it all?” Ravyn continued worriedly. “I mean, the language barrier alone...”
Hollister shook his head at her, “And I’m well aware that you can translate every language in your head. Nicolas has lived in my city for a long time, after all,” he told her knowingly.
“But I can’t speak it though...” she attempted again.
“I’m sure there’s a way to fix that, which I will discuss with Raynor as well,” he shut her down again. “Now, tell me, why are you suddenly trying to sabotage your own plans, Ravyn?”
“I just... I was never all that interested in being a Primogen at all. But I did it for Sean, because, well, it was Sean. But to be one for a Ventrue Prince, who already will hate me on sight...?” she shook her head.
“How badly do you want to carry out this plan of yours, Ravyn? That’s the real question, and you better decide it now, before I speak with Raynor,” he told her firmly.
Ravyn was quiet a long moment, thinking back on her conversation with Eliot. And the reasons he even died at all. Finally, squaring her shoulders, she looked back up at Hollister. “I need to do everything I can to help end this. We all do, I suppose,” she admitted softly.
“Spoken like a Primogen,” Hollister nodded his approval before bidding them farewell for the night and going to have that conversation with Berlin’s Prince after all.
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Later that night, Hollister sat in his office in the midst of a telephone call between himself and Berlin’s Prince Raynor. Though both spoke the other’s language, they chose to have their conversation in German, as Hollister was older, and a much more avid patron of the arts than any Ventrue would ever be. Meaning, Hollister’s grasp of the other European languages was greater than Raynor’s, as the latter only really bothered to attain any mastery of English, for obvious reasons.
“And this ‘candidate’ is who to you, exactly?” Raynor was asking in his native language, shortly after having taken Hollister’s call.
“My great grandchilde,” Hollister answered briefly, knowing Ventrue valued simple, straightforward answers with little delay in almost all matters.
Raynor shook his head from behind his own desk in the heart of Berlin, “And she was embraced, when, exactly?”
“1598,” Hollister continued with his straightforward responses. Though, there was an obvious pause on the part of Raynor upon hearing that answer.
Finally, Raynor spoke again, “And that would make her what generation, exactly?” he asked, skillfully hiding any feelings he had about that fact from showing through in his tone.
“Yes, she’s the same generation as you, Raynor. Though, nearly forty years younger,” Hollister admitted.
“So, she reads thoughts, and I likely can’t compel her? And your whole bloodline learned the benefit of compulsion from a member of our clan, ages ago, as well? Am I getting this all right?” Raynor stated with a bit of bitterness.
“You’re sounding very paranoid, Raynor,” Hollister couldn’t help replying.
Raynor scoffed, “Paranoia is what keeps any Prince alive. And you can’t tell me you’d be happy about any of these facts in my position, either, Hollister,” he stated a bit defensively.
Hollister couldn’t hide the slight scoff, “Would you like me to compel the very terrifying young Toreador woman to be on her best behavior with you?”
“Now you’re being just a bit condescending, Hollister,” Raynor stated in a dark tone.
Hollister let out a wry chuckle, “I thought Ventrue were quite avid fans of condescension though, aren’t they?”
“It’s not very impressive when one is on the receiving end of it,” Raynor replied in the same unimpressed tone.
Hollister let out a deep sigh, “Listen, Raynor. She has no interest whatsoever in your crown. She just wants to try to do what she can to stop this nightmare we’re all living in thanks to that little man with the very unfortunate facial hair. And those skills of hers that you are having such reservations about could be very, very valuable in helping make that happen.
“You know as well as I do how very malleable humans are to a Toreador’s charms. Especially a Toreador who also happens to be a stunningly beautiful woman, such as Ravyn is,” he stated plainly. “So, what’s more important? Worrying that she has designs on your crown, or giving her a chance to do her part to finally help end all of this Nazi nonsense, once and for all?
“So, you’d get a new Primogen, working toward, not against, your ultimate goal to get your city back under your full control. And, yes, I will make sure she is compelled to never go against any of her new Prince’s orders. I’ll trust that you will treat her with respect and help her to the best of your ability, just as she wants to help you. After all, us being enemies won’t benefit either of us, now will it?”
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Once they arrived back at their London home for the night, Connor gave Ravyn one more furtive look before placing a slight kiss on her cheek and heading into the bedroom to get some rest before the sun rose. As the bedroom door closed behind him, Ravyn took a tentative seat on the sofa.
Ravyn sat there in thought for what felt like nearly an hour, trying to imagine whatever conversation Hollister and Raynor may really be having in regards to she and her plans. She found her eyes easily moving to the stone around her neck again, biting her lip as she pondered summoning Eliot’s spirit to her once more.
She didn’t want to let herself fall into the trap of using her connection with him as some kind of crutch to just get through each night. After all, Eliot had made it clear that he wanted her to do more than just mourn him for eternity. That was how her current plan had originally even been born after all.
She then let her eyes move to the telephone nearby. With a shaky sigh she finally moved her hand to begin dialing. But before her fingers touched the cool metal, the phone instead startled her with a loud, shrill ring of its own, and what seemed to be yet another case of uncanny timing.
“Hello?” she spoke softly into the receiver once the call connected.
“Germany?” was the return greeting she got. The voice on the other end of the line was filled with a hundred different emotions, and it was indeed a voice she immediately recognized. At that moment, she could have sworn she felt her heart lurch in response, despite the centuries that had passed since it last beat.
In a whisper, she choked out her response, “Sean?”