Sylvie and Ida

Saenz & Sokolov Corporate Tower — 17th Floor Board Room

11:11 pm

The boardroom was all glass and marble with dark leather covering dark wood. It asserted cold ambition. Its panoramic windows stretched across one side, with a sweeping view of Manhattan glittering under the night. The coterie was gathered in the long shadows cast by the overhead lights. The air smelled faintly of leather, polish, and the copper tang of Kindred presence.

Father Callahan’s deep voice cut through the low murmur of conversation.

“May I present, Ida Dejesus. She’s … been through a difficult time. She is one of Zane’s victims.”

Ida stood small in the vast room, her green eyes darting between unfamiliar faces. The subtle curl in her long, black hair caught the light as she turned, searching for something—someone—familiar.

Her gaze tracked to Talbot, leaning against the wall with his quiet, dangerous stillness. His biker leathers creaked when he shifted, and the faint scent of wolf drifted off him. She froze—wide-eyed—every instinct telling her to back away. But then her eyes found Sylvie.

The Malkavian sat near the windows on the side of the table, knitting needles clicking softly in her lap. She had that 1970s Italian-American elegance that never quite faded—high cheekbones, smoky eyeliner, a crown of hair in loose, rolling waves, nails perfectly painted in a shade of wine red that belonged to another era.

When Sylvie looked up, her gaze softened instantly. “Ida…” she breathed, the word touched with recognition and warmth.

Ida moved before she could think—rushing across the sleek floor, almost tripping on her own feet, and folding herself into Sylvie’s arms. The needles clattered to the table.

Ida: (muffled against Sylvie’s shoulder) “You… you didn’t tell me. You… you’re like me?”

Sylvie stroked the younger woman’s hair, her voice a gentle murmur. “Wasn’t the time, dolcezza. But you’re here now. You’re safe.”

Rustin, standing off to the side, quietly stepped from the room. He found his way to Alec’s office hoping to find him where he typically is. Instead, there was just Ysa. The bronze skinnedMexican ghoul was leaning against a bookcase with a tablet. He tapped lightly on the door and she waved him in.

“Is Alec in?”

“He’s in Westchester. Is there a problem?”

“Not sure. We found the last fledgling, Ida. Callahan and Bastanji brought her in. There were complications though. Second Inquisition was hunting her. They’re confident they weren’t followed. 

Ysa placed the tablet down and retrieved her phone then made a call. It was odd listening to her speak Russian.

“He’ll arrange something with the Prince when he’s back. Until then, she stays here.”

“I’ll inform the others.” Rustin answered.

“Thanks. I’d appreciate that. Let me know if I need to arrange a place for her to sleep.”

“Will do.”

Father Callahan had been waiting outside the office with similar intent to Rustin. As he walked out he asked if Alec was in.

“No. He’ll be returning as soon as the prince can see us though.”

Callahan’s voice was measured but edged with concern. “She can’t be on her own. The SI wants her—badly. They made that very clear in the church.”

“He wants her kept here.”

“Makes sense.”

They walked back into the conference room.

“Ida, we can arrange for a place for you to sleep. You should stay here for now.” Rustin said. 

Bastanji, arms crossed like a stone statue near the door, added with quiet certainty: “We keep her close. Less risk.”

Sylvie drew back just enough to see Ida’s face. “Spare room in my place’s been empty too long, kiddo. You’ll stay with me, sì?”

Ida hesitated, glancing around again at the strangers—at Talbot’s quiet, predatory stare, at Rustin’s detective’s scrutiny, at Maia watching from the shadows with unreadable eyes. Her pulse, unnecessary as it was now, raced.

Ida: “…If you’re sure. You don’t mind?”

Sylvie smiled faintly, the kind of smile that made the world feel less sharp. “Sure as the sunrise, bella mia. Come on, I’ll show you up.”

………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Sylvie’s Apartment, 20th Floor, Saenz & Sokolov Tower

1:00am

The moment they stepped in, Ida felt the difference. The corporate chill of the tower melted into something lived-in and warm. Sylvie’s apartment was all soft lamps, thick carpets, vintage floral furniture, and framed photographs of people whose smiles carried decades of history. The air smelled faintly of lavender and wool yarn.

Sylvie set down her knitting bag and gestured toward the open door of the second bedroom. Inside, a queen-sized bed was made with a crocheted blanket in deep reds and golds, a dresser topped with a porcelain jewelry box, and a view of the city framed by heavy curtains.

“It’s not much, but it’s yours now. You’ll sleep here. Lock the door if you like. No one comes in without your say-so.”

Ida lingered in the doorway for a few seconds. When she finally made her way in, she found her fingers brushing the blanket. “It’s… nice. Nicer than…” She stopped herself, swallowing.

“Nicer than what dearie?” Sylvie had a motherly tone. Soft, welcoming and caring.

“Nicer than what I’m used to…” Her voice was melancholy. 

“I promise; you’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Ida smiled but it masked skepticism. “I’ve heard promises before.”

Sylvie tilted her head, reading her like a page. “Zane’s empty promises?”

Ida’s lips trembled at the name, but she nodded. “I thought… I thought I could find Natalie if I just… listened to him. Did what he said. But—” Her voice broke. “He said I had to… to experience what she did. Like it was some… sick test.”

Sylvie moved closer, resting her hands gently on Ida’s shoulders. “Listen to me. What he did to you wasn’t your fault. You hear me? Men like that… they’ll twist a girl’s mind to think she had a choice. You didn’t.”

Ida’s voice dropped to a whisper. “He made me this. This… thing. A monster. Maybe I deserved it, punishment for my sins.”

Sylvie shook her head, her eyes glinting with something fierce. “Punishment? No, tesoro. You’ve been given a new skin. The question is what you do with it. And I’ll be right here while you figure that out.”

Ida’s green eyes shimmered, but she forced a smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me, huh?”

Sylvie laughed softly, patting her cheek. “I could use the company.”

Ida was just about to step away when Sylvie called out to her. 

“I’m sorry to ask but could I have your cellphone? We can’t have anyone pinging your phone and coming here. I’m fairly certain that’s how they found you at the church.”

“Oh…” She looked at the device. “Oh!” As realization struck. She held it out with two fingers like it was something dirty.

Sylvie had walked over to a china cabinet and opened a drawer, retrieving what looked like a foil zip lock bag. She placed the phone in the bag and then on the counter. 

“There. All set. Why not settle in and watch some tv. I jail broke the firestick. You should be able to find something you like.”

Ida was wide eyed. “You did what?” She asked with an incredulous smile.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises.” Sylvie smiled back.

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Sylvie’s Apartment – 2:37 A.M

The apartment is quiet except for the rhythmic clicking of knitting needles. Sylvie sits curled in a vintage floral armchair, a ball of deep burgundy yarn resting in her lap, glasses perched on her nose. The light from a tall floor lamp casts a warm amber glow over the mid-century furniture and the patterned rug beneath their feet.

From the guest room, the sound of soft footsteps approaches. Ida appears in the doorway, hair loosely braided, wearing one of Sylvie’s oversized cardigans. She looks more relaxed than she did the few hours before, though her eyes still carry that new-kindred wariness.

A knock at the door—three sharp raps, almost too confident for this time of night.

Sylvie looks up. “Expecting someone?”

Ida shakes her head, moves instinctively closer to Sylvie’s chair.

Sylvie rises, her knit project still in hand, and answers the door.

Standing there is Felicity—young, striking, and unapologetically styled. Her wavy blonde hair catches the hallway light like strands of silk, her septum ring glinting as she offers a quick, toothless smile. In one arm, she’s holding several neatly folded shopping bags from high-end boutiques.

“Hi Sylvie, apologies for the late call” Felicity says, her voice casual but curious, eyes flicking past Sylvie into the apartment. “I’m looking for Ida Dejesus?”

Ida freezes, fingers gripping the cardigan tighter. “I’m… Ida,” she says finally, stepping into view.

The recognition isn’t immediate—not in the way either of them expected—but there’s a strange pull in the air, the faint resonance of shared blood.

“Oh,” Felicity breathes, her smile softening into something almost vulnerable. “So you’re… my sister.”

Ida blinks. “Sister?”

“She’s one of Zane’s as well.” The Malkavian explains.

Felicity stepped inside at Sylvie’s gentle gesture, holding out the bags. “Alec called. He told me you didn’t have much with you. I told him I could help. He picked these up for me a little while ago, figured I’d bring them over. Thought they might fit. There’s pajamas, jeans, some hoodies… and, uh…” she gives a small, conspiratorial grin, “…the boring stuff too. Unworn… Tags are still on.” She said with a friendly smile.

Ida reached for the bags slowly, as if they might vanish. “Thank you. But these are yours.”

“It’s ok. I was in a similar situation when I came here. Had nothing but a damaged cocktail dress. Alec raided Ysa’s closet for me. Fortunately, she keeps a wardrobe here in our apartment. Thought these might make you feel a little better until you can pick out some new clothes.”

“Ysa?” She asked not knowing who Felicity was speaking of. “I mean thanks. I—uh—I wasn’t expecting…” She hesitated. “I don’t have any money. I can’t…”

“Never you mind, dearie.” Sylvie interrupted. “That was very kind of you, Felicity. I see you’re learning Alec’s compassion. That’s a good thing.”

Felicity smiled at the compliment.

Ida stared at the bags. Her eyes drifted back to their guest. She looked Felicity over, noting the immaculate romper, the careful eyeliner, the way she seemed so together. “…You knew Zane.”

Felicity’s gaze flickers at the name—something tightens in her jaw—but she doesn’t look away. “Yeah. He’s the reason we’re both… like this.” She exhales. “I heard what happened to you. I’m sorry.”

Sylvie moved between them slightly, a quiet anchor in the charged air. “Why don’t you two sit? You’ve both got plenty to catch up on.”

They settle at the small dining table, Sylvie returning to her armchair but listening, knitting needles resuming their steady rhythm.

Ida runs her hand over the fabric of the folded clothes. “You don’t… seem like him. Zane, I mean.”

Felicity huffs a quiet laugh. “Thank God. Alec made sure of that.” 

“Alec? Who’s he? Should I know who he is?”

“Mr. Massara.” Sylvie corrected without looking up, her old world sense of respect surfacing.

“He owns the building. He’s a Ventrue. He works for the prince.” Felicity explained.

Ida wore a look of confusion.

“I know it’s a lot. The more time you spend here, the more sense it will make. So Alec…”

“Ahem.” Sylvie cleared her throat as she stitched.

“Mr. Massara…” Felicity grinned.

“Thank you dearie.” Sylvie sang pleasantly.

“I guess you can say he’s… fostering me. Helping me figure out how to live with this.” She glances over to the couch and whispers. “Is Sylvie doing that for you?”

Ida nods. “She’s… different. We have a connection. I feel safe here… with her.” She hesitates, then, quietly “You really see Alec as a mentor?”

Felicity nods, leaning back. “He’s strict. But he’s smart. And protective… I think he actually cares. I know he put himself through quite a bit of trouble for me and a couple of the others. And it wasn’t like Zane cared. Zane wanted us as trophies, immortal fan girls. Alec wants us to live, be happy even.”

Sylvie smiles faintly without looking up from her knitting. “That’s saying a lot, coming from a Toreador.”

Felicity chuckles. “But there are rules and it’s safest for us if we follow them. Oh that reminds me, be real careful around Anastasiya. She doesn’t visit too often but when she’s here don’t even look at Alec.”

“Anastasiya?”

“Alec’s sire and… paramour?… is that still a word?”

Both girls giggled slightly.

“She’s rather possessive of the man… obsessed even.” Sylvie offered a wry chuckle. “And they say I have issues.” She shook her head as she knitted.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Ida says softly, “I didn’t think I’d meet anyone else… who understood what it’s like.”

Felicity meets her gaze across the table, something unspoken passing between them. “Guess you’re not alone anymore.”

“No you’re not.” Sylvie echoed.

Felicity stood. “I should probably go. I’m around if you need me. Alec has me shadowing Ysa while he’s away. Oh, I almost forgot.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a white box with an apple logo. “Ysa said to bring you this Sylvie. Thought you might need it. She took the liberty of programming some important numbers for you.”

“How thoughtful. Yes indeed.”

“Would you be so kind as to take this one with you Felicity. Ask Ysabelle to store it in the ‘clean room’, she’ll know what that is.”

“Of course. Good night.”

“Good night.

“Here you go dearie. To replace the one I took.”

Ida hesitated. 

“No worries. It’s safe. Fresh out of the plastic I’m sure.”

Ida smiled slightly. “Thanks… For everything.”