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Abagail laughs politely. "You'll have to be more particular than that, I'm afraid. We offer a wide variety of expertise, even for clients such as yourself."

"These services would be rather exclusive," you say, wishing you had acquired more information about how Alisha runs this place.

"Of course," she says with a smile. "I'm familiar with your…appetites. I've been aware for some time now. I was once on the shortlist to become one of the Mistress's special servants, but then…" she shakes her head. "Silly of me to even mention. Apologies. Regretfully, I've been instructed to inform you that such services are available primarily as out-calls. We do have one doll in-house at the moment, but feeding here should be minimized for the time being. The Mistress implied that this was a city-wide edict, though she would never mention by whom."

"That's a recent change?" It has to be Arundel's edicts after the threats of the Second Inquisition. So much has changed in recent nights. No phones, physical couriers where you once had email, and now no proper blood doll services.

She nods demurely. "Quite. It's been less than a month, and the dolls are still adjusting. Some of them find their clients' homes a bit less tastefully appointed than what they're accustomed to."

Images of sewer havens and back-alley hovels hidden from the sunlight spring to mind. Not all Kindred are as wealthy as your sire, and secure locations can be difficult to find. "So you have a doll here? Could I meet them?"

"Of course," Abagail says, already mid-motion in anticipation of your desire. "This way."

Next

Abagail uses a keycard to open a door leading into a small hallway cut off from the rest of the escort service. Four elegant red doors branch off to the left and right, two on each side. "We used to run all the dolls through here," she says. "Convenient, easy access—all for a small fee of course. The Mistress needs to keep up appearances. Of course we'd change the locations up every so often. Can't get too predictable. I should warn you that this doll is rather…unorthodox." She approaches the furthest door on the right and opens it, revealing a lavishly appointed bedroom. A young mortal sits atop satin sheets reading a paperback novel. For a moment, you can't be sure of the doll's gender.

You look closely as you approach. "This one is young," you say quietly to Abagail. "Uncomfortably young."

"We hear that a lot about Drew," Abagail says with a soft sigh. "But we also have clients who prefer younger dolls. I know such things may not be of import to the Mistress's associates, but I'm told to assure you that he's above the age of majority despite his looks."

"I'm right here, you know. I can speak for myself," Drew says, putting his book down. "I'm not a kid. I can make my own decisions." He's definitely young for this line of work, maybe just a youthful face for his actual age?

Abagail laughs nervously. "We haven't had the time to work on refinements with him yet. You understand?"