The Rules of the Red - 2nd Edition |✓|

Chapter Twelve, Part Three - Protect And Serve

The alarm went off on Charles' phone, reminding us that something important was about to happen next. He asked each of us in turn if we were ready. We all either nodded or said yes, so he clicked a button on a remote and the television screen flickered to life.

On the TV was the image of a small, plain room. The walls were blank and white, much like the white room with the elevator–except this one didn't have tables of verbena. But I knew the room was somewhere within the hotel. In the top right corner of the television's screen was another little box that held the image of of the Leadership's office.

Somewhere off-screen there was the sound of a door swinging open and closed. A woman appeared–old and portly, with white, curled hair and cheeks that were permanently weathered. Equipped with a fur jacket, a fancy church hat and an oversize handbag, she looked as though she were bred from wealth. She glared into the camera.

"Mrs. Planchon, as always, it is a pleasure to see you," Charles warmly greeted. He was always nice to the rich ones. "How can we be of service to you this afternoon, madam?"

"I pay good money to feel safe in this town, Elder. Yet my substantial donations to the Leadership have either gone unnoticed or completely unappreciated. In either case, I can only say that I am extremely dissatisfied."

"Well, the sooner you get to the point, the sooner we can solve your problem, Margaret." Mathew's smile was stiff. Mrs. Planchon puffed up a good deal as she regarded Mr. Knight through the camera. Mathew went back to inspecting his nails.

"Someone has been cutting my rosebushes!" In her anger she shook her purse. "Every morning, for a week, I've woken to see more and more of my beautiful roses littering the grounds of my property. I'm almost down to the last of them! I'll have no more till next season! Don't you understand what that means?" She paused, but no one seemed to have an answer. "I have the largest collection of roses in the town. Certain members of the Garou rely on the production of my flowers, Elder. Why, that young man--seated right there --came into my shop looking to buy roses this morning and I had to sell him something from the fridges instead. Imagine my embarrassment! The boy comes in looking for the flower of love and I send him on his way with a damn hyacinth!"

The way she stressed the word, caused me to chuckle. Until I recalled the rest of what she said.

'Why that young man--seated right there--came into my shop looking to buy roses...'

I stared at Ethan, whose face went red beneath his tan as he sank low in his seat. He didn't look at me or his father, who had cottoned on with sheer joy. The flower of love. Ethan had meant to buy me the flower of love...

"Something has got to be done!" There were notes of hysteria in Mrs. Planchon's voice. "I can't run a business like this--I refuse. It's an act of terrorism!"

"Mrs. Planchon, I can assure you that we will get to the bottom of this," Charles said, intervening swiftly. "I will personally contact a member of the Human Affairs Department and send them to your home for further questioning."

"Roses?" I whispered to Ethan. "Really?"

"Yeah, can we maybe talk about that, like, never?"

"Fine. Then tell me about the Human Affairs Department. Who are they supposed to be?"

"Ever heard of the men in black or X-Files? Ever wondered what it would be like if Sam and Dean Winchester had a suit, a tie, and an office? Well, the H-A-D is kind of like that. A lot like that, actually."

Mrs. Planchon retired from the room shortly afterwards, still disgruntled but relatively calmer, and a tall, balding man took her place, itching in his tweed suit. The exposed parts of him were red, inflamed, and riddled with uncomfortable-looking dry patches. Apparently he'd gotten a rash, and none of the human doctors had had any success treating it. And it wasn't going away, in fact it was spreading.