undergrounds | Dream a Little Dream of Me - Locked to Cesare (Late September)

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imogen reed

Dream a Little Dream of Me - Locked to Cesare (Late September)

Imogen's been offered a job, and she thinks she'll take it. Not that she particularly wants to spend her days teaching magical teenagers how to sightread--as someone who's only barely in her twenties herself, she thinks that's far below her--but because the pay is decent and, combined with her weekly performances at the Angelo, it means she might even be able to move out of her aunt and uncle's house. Or at least start paying rent.

Two days after her meeting with Sylvia Redbright, Imogen is back under the spotlight at the Angelo. She's "gifted," whatever that means. Something about her voice is magical. It should be earth-shattering news, but somehow it makes sense as much as anything in a world that is suddenly peopled by witches and vampires in addition to regular humans makes sense. It seems right.

Halfway through her set, another person walks into the lounge. Imogen is too much of a professional to register her surprise, but it's actually the first time that Cesare Borgia, her mysterious employer and benefactor, has come to see her sing. She smiles to herself. Gifted, huh?

Between songs, she whispers something in the ear of the pianist, and he signals to the rest of the band. They're going to change things up a bit.

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"Imogen Reed," comes the answer. She does't know her real name. Not yet. And once she learns it she will never share it with the likes of him. But that's far off yet. For now, she's answering as she knows.

Cesare rolls his eyes and laughs slightly. Oh, wow. So they're doing this the hard way. Ok then. He can do that.

"Take a seat," he commands, gesturing towards the chair at a dressing table and slowly making his way towards her, rolling up his sleeves.

"Why did you come to his room, Imogen?"

Imogen frowns against the compulsion, though she still does as she's told and sits. "You invited me," she says, slowly. "I was trying out my...voice powers--" she still hasn't got a good name for what she can do "--and you wanted to sleep with me."

Oh, Imogen. You are an absolute fool. Had she merely given it enough time and seemed open to it, Cesare would have wanted to sleep with her anyway. Now she was pinned to a chair while Cesare seethes at her. He crosses his arms.

"And why did you do that?" Because she wanted him to drink and get hooked on fae, have his reputation ruined and his presidency marred, obviously. But he wants to hear it from her.

“I wanted you to notice me,” she says softly. “I fancied you.” Imogen blushes slightly at the admission, one she would never make it not for the compulsion working its way past her defenses.

"That doesn't fucking matter," Cesare barks, entirely ignoring the flattery of it all. He has other things to focus than her trying to play coy and cute. Her crushing could be true but it's still pointless.

"We can do this the hard way if you want to, Imogen..." he says warningly. "Tell me the truth that matters."

Imogen blinks. “I am telling you the truth. Sylvia Redbright said that my singing had magic in it. I saw you and experimented with it.”

Cesare blinks right back with a frown. "Yes," he says with gritted teeth. "But to what end?" He's getting tired of this, and confused to be honest. Normally a person would break by now.

“So that you would notice me, and to make your girlfriend jealous.”

Imogen has never been able to lie, and with the magic working its way through her it’s impossible to even bend the truth as she is normally accustomed to doing.

Cesare's nose wrinkles. Now he's even more confused.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he says in a tone that sounds almost offended. If he had a girlfriend would he be sleeping with other women like that? No. And that is one of the precise reasons why he refuses to have a girlfriend.

Imogen’s forehead wrinkled in confusion and she looked up at Cesare, her vacant green eyes widening. “But that red haired girl said...”

"Oh, so you believe everything some redheaded girl tells you?" Cesare huffs. It only dawns on him a second later that she means Lydia. He grimaces.

"I don't have a girlfriend," he repeats. "Not her. Not anyone."

Imogen looks down at her lap, a faint blush on her cheeks. She’s beginning to fight the mind control, and shame is the first thing she feels.

“...oh. May I leave now?”

Cesare scowls but eventually nods, turning his back on her to grab himself a drink. He needs one.

"But you'll stay in the hotel. You won't leave. We'll keep you fed and comfortable until we talk again, is that clear?" He needs to sort this out, after all.

Several days later, Imogen is still a prisoner in a gilded cage. All of her needs are provided for; she even has a personal maid to clean her room and assist her in dressing in the designer clothes that appeared in her wardrobe, but she is only allowed out of her room to do her twice nightly shows (with a strict escort each time to ensure she does not use her magic). Her food comes to her through room service three times a day, and is hastily cleared away as soon as she finishes.

She still hasn’t seen Cesare.

Imogen isn’t sleeping well. She has nightmares about vampires, about being attacked. She moves through her day like a ghost, a pale imitation of the usual front she puts up for everyone. People have stopped showing up to her shows; she’s getting used to singing in a mostly empty room.

When she hears a knock on her door, she barely looks up. It must be the maid.

“Come in,” she sighs.

No such luck. Instead Cesare walks into the room, a bottle of red wine in his hand and two glasses in the other. His shoulders are stiff and he's frowning, but he seems to be trying to be friendly.

"I brought wine..." he says, placing it on the table by the window starting to uncork it. "I thought it might loosen your tongue." Because clearly vampiric persuasion didn't quite get the answer that he had expected. To be honest, he had deliberately left her to wait, give her a time to think and simmer on what she was going to tell him. He had given her time to realise that it was in her best issue to keep him happy.

Imogen starts when she sees him, her hand unconsciously flying to her neck. She nods and accepts the wine, but doesn’t drink it.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

Then, before she can stop herself, she blurts: “Are you going to kill me?”

"Why? Do you think I should?" he asks as he pours himself a glass and drinks it easily. "Do I have reason to?" It's a genuine question, one he would like to know the answer to. He wants to know what's going on here, why she did what she did and if anyone else is involved. The fear that she has right now is helpful. Though he doesn't want to kill her. If he wanted that then he would have done it while she was still in his bed.

Does he have reason to?

Imogen frowns at the wine glass. “I...manipulated you. I have this power and I experimented with it on you. I didn’t mean for it to go as far as it did.” The rush of magic had been intoxicating. She’d gotten so caught up in it...

“I’m sorry.”

Cesare pauses for a while, gives himself some time to think it over and let her sweat. Eventually he nods.

"Very well. Are you working with anyone else?" His eyes flicker up from his drink to meet hers, his look still serious. She had better not lie to him. After all, he'll know.

Imogen can’t lie. She’s never been able to.

She shakes her head, no. She isn’t working for anyone else. “I was stupid. It was entirely me. Finding out about this world, about being a, uh, metahuman...I got caught up in it.”

Cesare can't help but laughing a little, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together.

"You aren't a metahuman, Imogen. You're fae."

He swallows thickly, still able to taste it in his throat. His body still craves it.

"Fae blood is highly addictive for vampires." Though really that's a bit of an understatement. Suddenly her attack makes so much more sense.

“...what?”

Imogen’s eyes go wide. “But that’s not true. I’m human—I’m from Essex. I have parents and little brothers and sisters, a family. I’m human. We’re all human. I can’t be a...fairy. Fae. I would know, wouldn’t I?”

When Cesare mentions fae blood, she looks confused. Was that why he had run from her? “But...I’m not...” She protests, weakly.

"Trust me. I know what fae blood tastes like," Cesare responds with a wry smile. You can never quite forget what it's like, how it feels once it hits your tongue and how it makes your body feel like there's electricity running under your skin.

"You're going to need to be careful around vampires..." Including him, to be fair.

Imogen shakes her head, too preoccupied with the bombshell Cesare had just dropped to pay attention to his warning about vampires.

“But I can’t be fae. I’m normal. I’m just...Imogen.”

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