Spelling Television, Inc. (a subsidiary of Spelling Entertainment group, Inc) owns the characters of Julian Luna, Cameron, Daedalus, Lillie Langtree, Sasha, Cash, Caitlin Byrne, Frank Kohaneck, Eddie Fiori, Sonny, and any others from the Kindred: The Embraced TV show that I may have forgotten to mention. Vampire: The Masquerade is owned by White Wolf Publishing. My use is in no way meant to challenge their copyrights.
The character of Matt Reimer springs from the mind of Eric Bowmaster.
The name of Daniel McLaughlin is the creation of Gordon Haight, and the name Angelica Black is Karyn's, although I have taken liberties in altering the characters to suit my purposes.
Brett Taylor and Michelle Marlowe are the products of Mike Baggs' overactive imagination, and Dmitri Vadislav was thought up by Mark.
All of the other characters, as well as the story, are mine.
I include this small little warning for the benefit of anyone who considers himself to be an overly sensitive person. There is violence presented in this story, often graphically, and there are several nasty words. If you have a problem with this, don't read it, and don't tell me later that you found it offensive because forewarned is forearmed. I would almost certainly rate this story R, as it is the second-nastiest installment in the series (in case you're interested, the 5th is probably the nastiest). Who knows? I don't get paid to come up with actual ratings, so I really don't care all that much. Enjoy.
For this third episode of the series, I was faced with a conundrum in the development of the plot as it concerned one major character. The initial revision had been in existence for almost a year when Icy Mike Molson finally came up with a way to solve my problem. So therefore I would like to express special thanks to Icy Mike, without whom the quality of this story would be considerable lower than it already is.
I would also be remiss in not mentioning Dwayne Gamble, whose help was thankfully not as necessary in this third story as it was in earlier episodes. I guess the coaching has helped, or perhaps I'm now just a Dwayne-clone in my writing. Be scared. Be very ascared.
Author's Note
: This story is the third in a series of five. Although this story stands well on its own, it follows a several-story arc, and it is recommended that you read "Blood Under a Full Moon" and "Friends and Foes" before you read this.Blood Feud
by
Nevermore
CHAPTER 1
I
Barry carefully peeked around the corner, hoping that his prey had not been able to see him. Barry had grown up on the streets of San Francisco, and had thought he had seen everything that the city could offer him. Things were different lately, though. A few of his friends had recently disappeared without a trace, and crime was on the rise. When his little sister had been beaten to death by a new gang, he had decided that it was time for some payback. Ever since that night he had walked the streets, seeking out people that were in need of help. He had sworn that night, as he looked down at his sister's broken body, that he would never allow an innocent person to suffer. If only someone had been there to help his sister, then maybe she would still be alive. Tonight, he would do his part.
The man he was following had been selling drugs to a group of teenagers, and one of them had tried to rob a liquor store an hour earlier in order to get enough money for his next fix. Barry had made sure that the junkie would never be putting anyone's safety in jeopardy again. He had followed the addict a few blocks from the store, and down a dark alley. Once out of everyone's sight, he had used an old baseball bat to beat the criminal to within an inch of his life. It might have been a little severe, but then again, the laws of the streets could be brutal. Only the strongest would survive. The junkie had not been strong, and now never would be. Barry had to wonder if in fact the kid would even ever speak or eat solid food again. Not content with simply punishing the man who had perpetrated the crime, Barry had decided to go after the man whose actions had led to the junkie's need to commit the robbery. He would attack the source of the crime.
Barry rounded the corner, allowing himself to stagger a little bit as he entered the line of sight of his enemy. The man simply gazed back at him with a look of indifference. Barry slowly walked up, and looked the drug dealer over intently, making sure he stared past the man in order to make it appear as if his eyes were unfocused and vacant. "Hey man, what do you have?" he asked. He needed to get up close to his victim, as the dealer probably had a gun and if threatened would likely shoot Barry before he got close enough to use the baseball bat he had hidden under his old raincoat.
"What do you want?" the dealer replied with a smile. "I have it all." As he looked Barry over, Valdez knew that the vigilante before him was faking everything. He's no junkie, the drug dealer realized immediately. As he looked closer, Valdez could feel the heat coming from Barry's blood. It was obvious that the young kid was excited — his body was pumped on adrenaline. Valdez smiled slightly, unable to hide the pleasure he took in thinking about how delicious the young man's blood would taste. "Yeah, come on over," he encouraged as Barry continued to approach, still playing the role of a stoned heroin addict.
Once he was within arm's reach, Barry whipped the baseball bat out in one action, aiming for Valdez' skull. He was completely unprepared for the fact that Valdez had expected the attack, his kindred senses having warned him of the danger long before the threat was actually posed. The drug dealer ducked below the swing and punched Barry squarely in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He then took a couple of steps back and looked at his fallen foe, disappointed that it had been so easy. With another smile Valdez drew a dagger from a sheath inside his windbreaker and stepped toward Barry, who was rolling on the ground in agony. "I don't know who you are, or why you're so intent on killing me, but your sorry ass is history, boy," he taunted as he bent down to slit Barry's throat. He licked his lips in anticipation of tasting the blood, which he could tell was still sweet with adrenaline.
"NO!" Barry screamed as he rolled over quickly and thrust his foot into the kindred's groin with all his might. Despite the fact that the targeted organs had not served their intended purpose for years, and never again would, they remained almost as sensitive to pain as they had ever been. Valdez fell back a couple of steps, gathering his composure so as to quickly finish off his opponent. Apparently, he had underestimated the heart of this particular street rat.
Barry picked his baseball bat back up and cautiously approached the kindred again, completely unaware of how overmatched he was. He swung hard at Valdez' head again, and gathered his strength as the kindred ducked below the swing once more, just as Barry had expected. While the kindred was low, Barry kicked him in the face, and brought the bat down on his opponent's left knee as Valdez fell backward. Barry heard the crunch of bone as he made contact, and the drug dealer's scream of pain confirmed to the vigilante that he had indeed done serious damage. Smiling, Barry closed in for the kill, meaning to erase from the world the man's threat to the innocent. As he stood over Valdez, though, he was shocked to find the kindred looking up at him, smiling. In one quick motion, the vampire swung his left leg out parallel to the ground and swept Barry's legs out from under him.
Within moments the kindred was on his opponent's back, using his blood to increase his strength. He looked down at the back of the neck of the man who now lay helpless below him, overwhelmed by the supernatural strength that the vampire could summon in his undead body. He leaned forward, savoring the chance to feed, but instead felt his weight shift quickly forward. Barry reached up as he felt Valdez lean forward toward him and grabbed the back of the kindred's head and threw him over his shoulder.
Barry quickly jumped to his feet and brandished the bat in front of him. He could not believe how strong his opponent was. The only way he had even escaped was through Valdez' error in leaning forward too quickly, a motion that still confused Barry. Why the hell was he putting his face anywhere near my neck? he wondered.
As Valdez stood up to face Barry, the answer to his question became obvious, no matter how unbelievable it seemed. Valdez had bared his fangs, hoping to intimidate his human foe into submission. He had grown tired of sparring, and was starting to get hungry. He would not underestimate the quickness of his opponent again, however, and allowed his blood to slowly increase his physical speed and coordination. He approached again, with the knife held out in front of him, and swung quickly as Barry still tried to overcome his disbelief. In pure reflex the vigilante sidestepped the attack, grabbed the inside of Valdez' right arm and quickly struck the outside of his attacker's upper arm with the baseball bat, causing the appendage to break at the elbow. He then swung again at the elbow directly, and could feel the joint shatter under the force of the blow. Valdez looked down at his useless arm in disbelief, immediately allowing his blood to flow to the damaged joint so that he could repair the injury. Barry used the moment of hesitation well, again swinging the bat at Valdez' head. This time he connected, breaking Valdez' jaw and two of his enlarged canines. The kindred fell to the ground in pain, opening himself up to further attack. Barry obliged him and started swinging away with the bat, feeling the kindred's ribs snap under the force of his strikes. He kept hitting him over and over, allowing the horror he had felt at the sight of the fangs to rise within him. Every strike was an expression of the fear and hatred that Valdez had inspired in Barry when he had revealed his true nature.
After a few minutes, Barry collapsed to his knees, exhausted. He looked across at the fallen vampire, now lying in a small pool of blood, his skull partly split open and his limbs lying at odd angles, obviously broken. Barry closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked again, hoping suddenly that everything had been a dream. He was completely unable to deal with the fact that he had just encountered a vampire on the streets of San Francisco. However, as Barry sought to regain his composure, Valdez struggled to heal some of the more serious injuries he had suffered at the hands of the mortal. He had originally just wanted to drain Barry dry, but now he wanted to embrace him. It was obvious to the vampire that Barry had the heart of a warrior, and would probably prove to be very useful in battling Julian Luna for control of the city.
Barry slowly stood up, and then looked down at his fallen victim, convinced he had seen movement out of the corner of his eye. It was then that rational thought returned to Barry. He admitted to himself that he had indeed just fought a vampire, and he had to admit that from everything he had ever seen in the movies, it was unlikely that he had killed his opponent just by hitting him with a baseball bat. He searched his mind for what it was that he should do next. The answer came to him suddenly – a stake through the heart. He gathered all the strength he had left and slammed his baseball bat handle-first against the ground. As he had hoped, the end of the handle broke off, leaving him with a very sharp piece of wood at the end of the bat. He approached Valdez' fallen body and rolled the vampire over onto his back. Barry raised the bat and brought it down hard at the kindred, only to have the vampire's hand shoot up and grab the makeshift stake just inches from his chest.
Valdez sprang to his feet, still injured and with his blood almost completely drained, but he knew that there would now be no stopping him. He yanked the bat from Barry's grasp and backhanded him with it, knocking the mortal to the ground. He then approached the dazed human, once more allowing his fangs to become exposed so that he could feed. He crouched down over his opponent, but just as he was about to bite into Barry's jugular vein, Valdez felt a vice-like grip close around his own neck. He was lifted up and thrown against the wall of the building in the alley, and came face to face with Matt Reimer, Julian Luna's enforcer.
"The prince of the city has been advised that you have been dwelling within his domain without his permission," Matt said evenly as he leveled his combat shotgun at Valdez. "Normally, you would be given the opportunity to remedy this oversight, but you have engaged in the unapproved trafficking and distribution of illegal narcotics to the mortals. This endangers the Masquerade, and the prince has sentenced you to final death."
Valdez' eyes went wide as he heard the words and realized their implication. He did not have time to do much else, however, as a shot rang out from Matt's weapon, the phosphorous shell tearing through the vampire's torso, cauterizing the wound so as to prevent any rapid healing. With phosphorous in the round, the shotgun shell became as dangerous to vampires as fire and sunlight.
Valdez slumped against the wall, feeling his life quickly seeping away. The last thing he saw was Matt's approach. Valdez gazed at the sharp survival knife that Matt drew, but did not even feel it when the Telemon enforcer sliced the kindred's head from his shoulders.
II
The gathered primogen sat around the table, waiting for Matt Reimer, the head of Clan Telemon, to finally arrive. It was not like him to be late for a meeting, and Julian showed his agitation. The prince tapped his fingers rhythmically on the top of the table, looking from one to another of his primogen. He wanted the meeting to go especially well that evening, as it was the night that Frank Kohaneck would be introduced to the rest of the primogen as the first childe of Sonny, the oldest of Julian's surviving childer. The embrace of Frank had pleased many of the kindred in the city, as it had been no secret that no one enjoyed the idea of a human policeman knowing the truth about the existence of kindred. It was a direct violation of the Masquerade that would not have been tolerated of any vampire but the prince of the city.
It had been almost a year since the attack of the garou on the kindred of San Francisco, and things were finally getting truly back to normal. The numbers of kindred in the city were recovering to pre-raid levels, and many of the clans had achieved an unsurpassed degree of success that they had never known before within the city. The greatest example of this was the Brujah. Under Cameron's leadership they had increased order within the clan, and had begun to embrace childer that were as intelligent as they were physically powerful. Their underworld dealings had risen to new heights with the support of legitimate business interests all across the city.
The Gangrel had recently moved back into their position of the guardians of the prince's safety. Once Cash had rebuilt his clan, he had reclaimed the role of the prince's personal bodyguard, displacing Matt, who had temporarily assumed the role while Cash had been preoccupied with the responsibilities of his clan. Clan Telemon had then shifted from the role of defenders to enforcers, a position in which they excelled.
The Tremere had been strangely silent, as their primogen, Patrick Collins, ignored the traditional role of the primogen as political schemer in favor of spending his time developing his childe. Despite the apparent lack of interest of the Tremere in political intrigue, they were constantly watched over by the Nosferatu, who were eternally distrusting of the entire Tremere clan. As for the "sewer rats," little had changed with them. They continued to shun the outside world, and hid their twisted forms from the humans that they feared would hunt them should they learn of the existence of the kindred.
The Toreador had been continuing to endorse the development of the arts within the city, with Lillie going out of her way to sign new musical acts to her prospering production company. At the same time, her blood brother, Shane, was constantly busy bringing painters and writers to the city in an effort to get them hooked on the beauty of the Bay Area. It was the goal of the Toreador to create a new artistic movement in the world, with San Francisco as its starting point.
The entrance of Matt, who was carrying a white plastic garbage bag with him, interrupted Julian's thoughts. Without even a close look, everyone at the table knew that the bag contained the head of another of Julian's enemies. This particular one had been a rogue kindred that had come into the city and started selling drugs to the humans. As if that were not enough of a crime, there had been rumors that this particular kindred had also been selling a new "strength enhancing" designer drug to some people. This "drug" had actually been the kindred's blood, and by distributing it he had created ghouls all over the city that quickly became blood bound to him. He had posed a serious threat to the Masquerade, and the entire conclave had decided that his crimes merited the immediate sentence of final death. Matt had been selected to carry out the conclave's edict.
Julian looked from the bag to Matt with a slight feeling of pity. Julian Luna knew well what it was like to play the role of the prince's enforcer. He had done it himself during Archon's reign as prince. Julian had been Archon's "angel of wrath," killing dozens, perhaps hundreds, of his own kind over the course of decades. In the end, Julian had surrendered the mantle of the prince's enforcer, unable to live with the violence and the rage that it had instilled within him. He hoped that Matt would someday also retire from the position of his own accord, before the stress of the role got to be too much for him.
"I assume you have carried out the conclave's sentence," Julian stated, motioning to the bag in Matt's hand.
"Yes," Matt responded. "The body has been burned to conceal the evidence of his true nature. I am afraid, however, that another problem exists."
"What is it?" Julian asked, not caring to conceal his surprise. Matt was known to be efficient in his duties, and complications were virtually unheard of. The rest of the primogen seemed likewise interested in what Matt had to say.
"When I arrived, there was already a human on the scene," Matt explained. "He discovered the true nature of this 'Valdez,' and I am unable to erase memories from humans." The kindred of the world each had abilities that they gained through the manipulation of their blood, an advantage of their mystical nature. While some chose to develop disciplines that would give them powers of the mind, such as the ability to implant suggestion or erase a memory, Matt had always leaned toward enhancing his physical prowess. He was stronger and faster than virtually any kindred his age, but this strength had come at the cost of mental abilities.
"Did you kill him?" Patrick asked. It was generally accepted practice that a human who discovered the existence of kindred was either made to forget, or was killed, and the Tremere were fully in support of this policy. Julian, however, glared at the Tremere primogen. He had forbidden the killing of mortals within his city, as that ran its own risks of endangering the Masquerade. Patrick was aware of this edict, but constantly railed against it.
"What did you do about the situation?" Julian asked.
"I knocked him out, and brought him with me," Matt answered. "I ask permission to add him to my clan."
"What?" Julian asked. He had come to know the Telemon clan to be very selective of its childer, comparable to the Ventrue in the high standards that they set for their initiates. "What do you know about this human?"
"Only that he fought this kindred with only a baseball bat as a weapon, and he beat the hell out of him," Matt replied, unable to hide the high regard that he had for the human. Within clan Telemon, physical prowess, along with combat skills, was of the greatest importance. It was obvious to Julian that Matt badly wanted to embrace the human into his clan.
"Permission is granted," Julian answered, "but I want you to keep a close eye on him. You really don't know too much about this human, and you will have responsibilities as his sire."
"I'm sorry," Matt said. "I didn't mean to give the impression that I was to sire him. I said I wanted to bring him into my clan. I mean for Holden to embrace him."
"Holden?" Julian asked. Holden Mayes was Matt's first childe, and had himself only been a kindred for little more than nine months. It was doubtful that the fledgling was ready for the responsibility of creating a childe. "I don't know about that," Julian continued.
"I will guide Holden in the creation of his first childe," Matt replied. "He is responsible, and knows the ways of our world. I trust his maturity as a kindred completely. If you forbid it, however, I will embrace this human myself."
"No," Julian answered, "I trust your judgement. Allow Holden to create his first childe, but keep in mind that if anything goes wrong, I will hold you as responsible as I will Holden. You may both be punished for any transgression committed by this childe. You will enjoy the same rights and responsibilities with this childe that you would had you actually sired him yourself."
"I understand," Matt said as he finally sat down at the table. He was unable to hide his pleasure at the gift that Julian had bestowed upon him.
"Speaking of childer, though, my childe Sonny would like to introduce Frank Kohaneck to the conclave," Julian stated with pride. "You all know him, and Frank has asked that he be introduced to all of you formally, as a sign of respect, and out of gratitude for your patience with him when he had been mortal. He knows his knowledge of us should have earned him a death sentence."
Cameron almost grimaced as he heard the words. Knowing about kindred was not what had almost earned Frank a death sentence. It was his insistence on hunting them that had caused a problem. Of course, he had centered his attention on the Brujah, as they had been the most notorious and blatantly law breaking of the clans. It was too bad, Cameron decided, that Frank was now being accepted as part of kindred society. He had hoped to one day drive a stake through the heart of the policeman, the same fate that Frank had planned for so many of Cameron's associates.
Frank entered and nodded to the primogen, looking them over and etching the moment in his mind forever. He remained for only a moment, bowing his head slightly and never speaking, then quickly departed. Frank knew that the primogen all had things to do, and that he had no place in the room with them. Once he had left, Julian turned back to the business at hand. "I think you all know why we've met here this evening. A few of our most valuable human contacts have recently died, some of them obviously murdered. I refuse to believe in coincidence, so I'm assuming that they have in fact all been killed, despite the apparent accidental nature of some of the cases, but that the evidence to prove this is not yet available."
"What are you talking about?" Cameron asked. "I was only aware of the death of Sebastian Cruz, the Brujah contact in the Vinci family."
"The Ventrue have lost Lt. Bob Drake in the San Francisco Police Department, Sam Morgan, one of our District Court judges, and also Andy Burns, a reporter at Caitlin's paper," Julian responded, hiding the anger that everyone knew he was feeling. "I've also been informed that the Toreador lost a gifted recording producer, is that right Lillie?"
"Yes, he apparently slipped and fell in the shower," the Toreador primogen replied, obviously not believing the circumstances surrounding the death.
"Julian," Cash began, "the Gangrel have also lost a contact. Simon Neri, a guy who worked down at one of the shelters. He was Lana's ghoul, and advised us when possible recruits came into the city."
"When did he die?" Julian asked.
"Three nights ago," Cash answered. "I would have told you sooner, but I didn't know about any of this. I was... otherwise busy." Julian nodded, knowing that Cash had been out with Sasha every night for the past week. The unofficial end of the cold war between the Gangrel and Brujah had allowed Cash and Sasha to get close once again, and Julian had endorsed the idea heavily. Sasha had recently started to get involved once more in the crime that was widely considered a trademark of Brujah existence, and Julian had hoped that Cash's guidance would help her stay out of trouble.
"I understand completely," Julian replied with a slight nod. "That means that six Camarilla contacts have passed on this week. This is obviously not just coincidence." The prince looked around the table slowly, his gaze settling on each one in turn. "Daedalus, have any of your clan heard anything?"
"There are rumblings that another anarch gang may have moved in, but there's no evidence of it," Daedalus responded with his usual calm demeanor. "All we know is that a couple of bodies have been completely drained and left in the sewers."
Julian nodded in understanding. He knew that Daedalus and the Nosferatu were the best sources of information in the city, but he was sometimes irritated by Daedalus' reluctance to share obviously relevant news until asked. "If there is another anarch gang in the city, it would explain how busy you've been lately, Matt," Julian commented as he looked toward the primogen of the Telemon clan. Matt nodded in response, but said nothing.
"What do you suggest we do about this situation?" Patrick asked. All eyes turned toward the primogen of the Tremere when he spoke. They were all surprised, however, when they found a look of simple curiosity on his face, rather than the accusing stare they were all accustomed to seeing on his visage. It seemed that for once, Patrick would not accuse Julian of being an ineffective leader.
"Matt, I want you and Holden out on the streets," Julian said in response to Patrick's question. "Lillie, I would like to borrow the services of Travis, if that's all right with you. His abilities could be useful." Julian referred to Lillie's latest childe, a Toreador to whom she had taught the ability to read auras. Unless he were very powerful, it was impossible for a kindred to hide his aura from another with this ability. Julian doubted that any kindred anarch they might run into would be that formidable.
"Absolutely," Lillie responded with a wide smile. She had presented Travis to Julian only a few months earlier, and it felt good that her childe was being considered for such a crucial role. "I'll have him join up with Matt and Holden as soon as we leave," she finished.
"Other than that, I guess the only thing we can really do is keep our eyes and ears open," Julian finished. "Of course, we might also want to keep an eye on some of our more important contacts. We can't lose many more people." With that the prince got up and walked quickly out of the room, signifying that the meeting was over.
CHAPTER 2
I
Matt walked down the alley slowly, with Travis leading the way. Moments earlier, the Toreador had thought he had caught sight of a kindred bolt down the alley when he had seen Julian's enforcer round the corner. Holden had been sent around the block to try to cut him off from escape, and Matt and Travis were to bring up the rear. It had been a week since Julian had mandated that Matt deal with the situation, and the prince was starting to get a little impatient. They had lost eight more contacts within the past week, and some could not be easily replaced. After all, acceptable substitutes for men like city councilmen were not easy to come by.
Matt checked his MP5 one last time as he came to a corner in the alley. Suddenly, he was knocked to the ground by a gunshot from above and behind him, shooting him forward into the view of four armed kindred that had been waiting for him around the corner in the alley. Travis dove behind a garbage can and started firing wildly into the air while Matt dragged himself backward into the clear sights of the sniper above. At least that way only one assailant had a shot at him. The sniper did not miss the opportunity, putting two more bullets through the Telemon primogen's chest before he could get behind a dumpster.
Looking around, Matt saw a sewer grate and used the last of his strength to rip it out. He knew he had no chance against five armed kindred, especially in his condition. He dove down into the sewer below and took his radio out of his pocket to tell Holden where to find him. Much to his disappointment, though, he discovered that the radio had taken one of the bullets meant for him, rendering the device useless. He heard a splash behind him and turned to see Travis, who had managed to also make it into the storm sewer. "What the hell was that?" Matt asked, almost in a whisper. He was too weak to project the anger that he was now feeling towards Lillie's seemingly incompetent childe. "You're telling me those heightened senses of yours didn't tell you we were walking into an ambush?"
"Hey, GI Joe, you're the one who does this for a living, not me," Travis replied with indifference and disdain. "Get off my case." Matt looked at the young Toreador in disbelief, but continued on, knowing that any delay in getting out of the area could cost him his life.
They had gone only a few dozen yards into the darkness when they heard a blood-curdling scream from behind them, followed quickly by several gunshots. Matt dove to the floor just in time, avoiding some of the rounds that predictably came ricocheting down the tunnel. Travis, lacking Matt's combat experience, was struck a couple of times before he managed to get on the damp, slimy floor. A few more screams followed, accompanied by two shotgun blasts, and then there was only silence. Matt turned to face behind them, leveling his weapon to fire on anyone following them.
"Matt?" he heard someone call out to him from down the tunnel. "Matt, are you alive?" Matt listened to the voice in disbelief.
"Matt, whe..." another voice asked, though it sounded like it was muffled before it could finish. It was a female voice that Matt also thought sounded very familiar.
"I'm here," Matt called out. A thin beam of light pierced the sewer tunnel's blackness, allowing a gloomy view of the surroundings. Predictably enough, Matt was able to see his sire, Johnny Yashida, round a bend in the tunnel with Michelle Marlowe, his Gangrel companion. Matt noticed the small penlight that Johnny had always carried, and smiled at the vague familiarity of the scene.
Johnny strolled right up, looking as though he had no cares in the world. Michelle appeared as though she was still pumped up over the fight they had just seen, and Holden, who was following a few steps behind, seemed a little worse for wear. "Fancy meeting you in a place like this," Johnny commented as he looked around at the bare walls and stagnant water at their feet. You know, you could have at least picked up the place a little bit."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Matt asked, ignoring his sire's quips.
"Michelle and I needed a vacation, so we came to see the sights in the Bay Area. What's wrong with that?" Johnny asked, his face portraying innocence.
"What are you in town to steal?" Matt asked suspiciously. "Julian wouldn't like you taking everything that isn't nailed down in his city."
"Umm, who's this?" Travis asked, pointing to the small kindred that Matt was talking to.
"My sire," Matt responded offhandedly as he continued to glare at Yashida.
"I'm not here to steal anything," Johnny replied. "I promise. You know I wouldn't lie to you about this, what with your position of responsibility in the city."
"This can probably wait, Matt," Holden began. "We got all the ones that followed you down here, but there might be others. I don't know how much more I can take. One on three aren't the kind of odds I generally enjoy."
"One on three?" Matt asked. "I thought it was three on five. That's not that bad." He then looked at Johnny and Michelle, and could see from their expressions that at least one thing had not changed – they were both still unwilling to fight more than one on one if they could help it. That would have left Holden with the other three. At least that makes sense, Matt thought. It had seemed too weird when it looked like Johnny and Michelle had taken out those kindred behind us.
"Are you all ok to travel?" a new voice asked from the shadows. "This part of the sewers can be dangerous." The five kindred whirled quickly and leveled their weapons, immediately seeing an average-sized, cloaked figure standing before them.
"Who are you?" Matt asked, confident that the newcomer would not pose a serious threat to five armed kindred, even if one of them was only a Toreador.
"My name is Rex," the man responded. "I am a friend of Daedalus. I heard the shooting and came to see what was going on." Rex drew back his hood, revealing the deformed features characteristic of the Nosferatu clan. "As I said, this place is not safe lately. I can lead you out of here." Matt looked the Nosferatu over for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he should trust him.
"Sir, let's go," Holden said, obviously not being as dubious as his sire as to Rex's intentions. Matt looked at his childe and nodded, and the five kindred hurried down the tunnel behind Rex, hoping they had eluded everyone that had been following them.
Once they had gone about a mile through the tunnels, they all returned to the surface through another storm drain. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm a little hungry," Johnny said with a smile. "Maybe we should all split back up and go hunting."
"Yeah, good idea," Matt said. "That way if we were somehow followed, it'll at least be harder to track us."
"I have to get back anyway to help Barry go hunting," Holden commented. "He's still having a lot of trouble feeding off of the mortals."
The five split up, with Matt going toward the UC San Francisco campus. He had started a small herd that he felt he should visit that night. However, he was completely oblivious to the fact that he was being followed.
II
Spending time on the University of California at San Francisco campus always helped ease Matt's nerves. He had always wanted to make it into college, and the army had given him that opportunity. Of course, he had only been in school for a matter of a year before he was chosen by one of his instructors to join the ranks of clan Telemon, within the kindred world. The transition had been rough, as Matt was thrust immediately into a war between the Camarilla that had held the city, and the Sabbat, which was trying to seize it. To make matters worse, his sire had not been the greatest warrior among the kindred of the city. Out of a clan full of soldiers, Matt found it typical of his luck that he had been embraced by the one that functioned as a spy and diplomat. Of course, Johnny had only seemed willing to perform his duties with the clan when there was not a new art exhibit in town that had something he wanted to steal. In the end, Matt had been left to Johnny's blood brother, Marcus Dietrich, when it had come time to learn clan Telemon's methods. Marcus had no peer outside of the clan in the area of modern combat training, and he had taught Yashida's childe well.
Matt sighed as he crossed the lawn, approaching the edge of campus. He had had fun hanging out with the ROTC students that constituted his herd, the most likely crop from which he would find new recruits for his clan; but now he had business to conduct. There were still questions as to who had attacked him earlier in the evening, and he had a feeling that somehow the visit of his sire was related to the arrival of all the anarchs that had recently set up shop. At that moment, however, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Acting instinctively, he grabbed the hand and whirled around as he drew his Glock, preparing himself to eliminate any threat to his safety. However, as he came around, the gun was grabbed, and Matt was flipped over onto his back. He looked up to his sire standing above him grinning, Michelle next to him once again.
"Greetings and salutations," Johnny said with a smile. "You're getting careless. Back in State College, I would never have been able to get away with that move. You're too confident in people being too afraid of you to attack."
"Maybe," Matt replied as he sprang back to his feet. He had to admit to himself that there might actually be a bit of truth to what his sire told him, but he did not want to face that right then. "Still, you didn't know any moves like that back in our days in State College," Matt added.
"Sure I did, I just didn't let you see them," Johnny corrected as he handed the Glock back to his childe. Too many people would have extinguished me if they had ever gotten it in their head that I was a threat. After all, I was the easiest one in the clan to kill off."
"You would never have known it," Matt commented as he started once again for the street, and his parked Humvee. It was true, he thought. Johnny had always been reckless, but he had always claimed his behavior was not as bad as everyone made it out to be. After all, he had people like Siras, his sire, and Marcus to bail him out of the trouble he always seemed to get into. "So really, Johnny, what are you here for?" Matt asked again, resuming his line of questioning from earlier in the evening.
"Let's get in the Hummer and I'll tell you all about it," Johnny said as he quickened his pace. "I didn't want to say anything in front of that Toreador you had tagging along."
"That was Julian's idea," Matt muttered as he got into the Hummer. "I'll admit he's useful in picking out kindred, but he's completely worthless when it comes to fighting them. I swear, I almost picked him up and used him as a human shield earlier. At least then he would have been put to some good use."
Johnny joined Matt in the front, and Michelle jumped into the back, looking around as Matt started the vehicle. "Hey Matt, what's under this tarp back here?" Michelle asked as Matt pulled out into traffic.
"Don't touch that!" Matt yelled. "It's a minigun," he continued, lowering his voice once again. "I got it from a clan of anarchs that we wiped out a few months ago. I'm gonna have Holden attach it to the Hummer. That way we'd have an armed, armored vehicle. Talk about imposing..." His voice trailed off as he considered the damage that could be caused with the new toy he was planning on putting together.
"You might need it," Johnny said after a few moments of silence. "The city is under siege."
"What?!" Matt asked in shock, slamming on the brakes of his vehicle. A horn blasted loudly behind him as a motorist expressed his ire at Matt's adding of an obstacle in the street.
"Keep driving and I'll explain," Johnny said. "You know, you're going to cause an accident one day. You drive worse than Marcus."
"No I don't," Matt replied, obviously offended. He started back along the road, and Johnny continued his explanation.
"I got a piece of information from an old Nosferatu about a week ago, and I figured I should come out and tell you," Johnny said. "The Sabbat has laid siege to the city. My guess is some of the anarchs you've been so busy killing off were actually members of the Sabbat, and not a bunch of rogues like everyone thinks."
"The Sabbat?" Matt asked in disbelief. Matt had fought the Sabbat once before, but he had to admit that he had never seen the siege of a major city. He had only faced a group of under a dozen Sabbat, and that was bad enough. In an attack on a major city, the Sabbat would embrace large numbers of humans and attack with scores of them at a time. Julian's city was still somewhat vulnerable, as many of its kindred were young and inexperienced. They had only seen combat once, against the Sons of Cronus and the Brotherhood. The two anarch gangs had invaded Julian's city a few months earlier. "You know, you might have wanted to call and tell me about information like this. You've known for a week?"
"Well, we were coming out to San Francisco anyway," Johnny explained. "I figured we could tell you when we got here. It would be like a bunch of big surprises all at once," Yashida said, his voice sounding like he had just presented Matt with a pile of Christmas gifts rather than news of impending doom. Johnny smiled widely, and his calm, amused demeanor only served to agitate his childe all the more.
"Are you crazy?" Matt almost shouted at him. "The Sabbat is laying siege to the city, and you didn't tell me? We could have been making preparations."
"Like what?" Johnny asked calmly. "You've been busy hunting down members of the Sabbat anyway, which is exactly what you would have been doing if you had known. Everyone else is getting ready too, since they've been arming to fight off an anarch invasion. It'll just be a lot more intense than anyone expected."
"Julian could have called Cyrus for help," Matt returned. "He was willing to send soldiers last time we thought the Sabbat was attacking. He'd do it again."
"Cyrus can't even help himself anymore," Johnny shot back. Matt looked at his sire with a shocked look, and Johnny explained. "The anarchs have taken over Los Angeles again. It's a free state, just like it was before Cyrus managed to control it."
Matt thought about the implications of Johnny's words. Over the course of the previous few decades, Brujah anarchs had managed to overthrow the prince in every city of California except for San Francisco. No matter how hard they had tried, Archon had always been too powerful and ruthless. After the slaughter at Manzanita, the Brujah had given up trying to wrest the city from the ruling Camarilla Ventrue.
Five years earlier, Cyrus had managed to consolidate a position of power in Los Angeles, then declared himself prince. The Camarilla had rebuilt its position in California's largest city. The success had apparently been short lived, however, as the anarchs had recovered from their loss and retaken the city. Once again, San Francisco was the only Camarilla stronghold in California. They would be able to get help from no one.
"Does Julian know about Cyrus?" Matt asked in a more subdued tone. His concern was obvious, and Johnny could see Matt's fingers shaking a slight bit, betraying his anxiety. Johnny shook his head slightly, disappointed that his childe could not yet handle the stresses that life in the kindred world could present.
"Of course he does," Johnny answered after a couple of moments. "Why do you think he's had you out on the streets on a nightly basis, whacking every anarch you come across? Of course, I'll bet most of the kindred you've killed have been encroaching anarchs, but a few have been the Sabbat that have been laying siege to your city."
"Why do you think Julian hasn't said anything?" Matt asked, slowly regaining his composure but still searching for answers.
"How is he going to explain it?" Johnny asked his childe in response. "If he told the conclave that the anarchs have retaken Los Angeles, they might split. He needs them here long enough to get some more Ventrue into the city."
"I guess you're right," Matt answered, regaining comfort by dwelling upon the political realities of his life. "But how has he kept it a secret for so long?"
"My guess is he hasn't," Johnny answered. "The Nosferatu almost certainly know, but who the hell are they gonna tell? I would guess Cash knows too, but he's completely loyal to Julian, so he'll keep his mouth shut. The others might know, too, but there's no real way to deal with the situation right now, so it would be more comfortable to just ignore it."
"So we tell Julian about the Sabbat?" Matt asked.
"I think that would be the best idea," Johnny replied with a slight smile, amused at the very thought that they should keep from the prince a fact like a Sabbat siege. "Besides, I have to ask his permission to enter his domain anyway." Johnny turned on the stereo and sat back, enjoying the fact that he was once again looking forward to adventure with his childe.
III
From the rooftop of a building across the street from the U.C.S.F. campus, a dark form watched the three kindred get into the Humvee, and grinned. He had been watching Matt Reimer for months now, and was more impressed with him every day. Though the primogen of the Telemon clan was young, he was probably one of the more powerful kindred in the city. Only Julian, Daedalus, and Patrick would have had much of a chance against Matt in combat, and within another twenty years, even they would probably be hard pressed to defeat him. Assuming they all lived another twenty years. The Sabbat had moved into the city over the course of the last four months, and it looked as if they were about to launch their war.
It was unusual, he thought, that the Sabbat would not take longer to establish a more secure residence in the city, but at the same time, they had not been able to infiltrate any of the clans. Normally, they would have sent in several of their Brujah antitribu, who would have fallen in with the city's Brujah and begun to gather information. In San Francisco, that had not been an option. Rayce had restructured the Brujah clan in San Francisco into a loose hierarchy. They were able to keep track of any interlopers, and that did not make it easy to spread rogue Brujah into the city.
The man took out his laptop computer, looked over the file he had been working on, and considered the possibilities that this particular kindred presented to him. He had hoped that a suitable opponent for Matt Reimer would arrive in the city, and he smiled as he decided Geist gave him the perfect opportunity to test the Telemon primogen's abilities.
Name: Geist File #: 53292
Clan: Brujah Antitribu (Sabbat) Location: San Francisco
Embrace: 1922 Last Update: 11-24-94
Sire: Carothers File #: 46948
Grandsire: Nicholas Caputo File #: 42453
Displayed Disciplines: Brujah, plus fortitude, protean
Rating: 25.92
Notable Victories:
Magnus van der Klans: Sabbat Bishop
Sahmed Malai: Assamite antitribu assassin
Desired Confrontations:
Brujah Elder
Telemon Soldier
Toreador Elder
Geist was the bishop of the Sabbat soldiers that had been sent to take over San Francisco. He had command of two packs, in addition to all the progeny that the Sabbat kindred produced while they were within the city. His minions currently numbered about twenty, but that would soon change. Geist would likely throw away the youngest, weakest ones in testing the defenses and abilities of the defending members of the Camarilla. Julian was a strong prince, but his kindred were not as powerful as they had once been. Just five years ago, the Sabbat would not even have considered trying to take San Francisco, but since the invasion of a pack of garou, and its resulting decimation of the kindred population, an opening was definitely available.
Geist would provide the most powerful challenge that Matt had ever faced, that much was certain. The watcher now needed to formulate a plan to get Matt intent on facing Geist one on one. Perhaps he could even get Matt to declare the rite of monomacy, where the two would fight in single combat to the death. However, it would be difficult to arrange that. Then the man smiled thinly as he looked across the street at the campus, and suddenly knew how he would get Matt angry enough to hunt down the Sabbat leader, no matter the cost.
IV
Travis walked through the crowds within Chinatown, comfortable in the anonymity that they would provide to him. Normally, he would enjoy being the center of attention when he was out, such was his nature as a Toreador. Tonight, however, it was necessary to maintain an exceedingly low profile. He was to meet with the leader of the Sabbat packs that were invading San Francisco, and should anyone who knew him see him with the bishop, his life would be forfeit.
He reflected once again on the little that he knew about the bishop, a man known only as Geist. He had apparently had his own pack, which had been wiped out in an unsuccessful siege of Phoenix. Now he led two other packs, and they were known for using excessive violence in their battles with the forces of the Camarilla. Indeed, some thought that Geist's claim of belonging to the Brujah clan was false, that he must actually be a member of the Tzimisce. Many thought it inconceivable that a member of any other clan could be so indifferent to pain. In fact, Geist actually had a reputation for enjoying the suffering of his enemies, rather than simply being indifferent to it.
Travis arrived at the corner where he was to have his meeting and looked around, inhaling the cool air. The Toreador grinned as he imagined the smell of fire and death being mingled in with the usual scents of San Francisco. He thought it would do a great deal to enhance the character of the city. After a few moments a limousine pulled up, and the door opened. "Get in, Travis," he heard Geist's smooth voice call out to him. Without a second's hesitation, Travis obeyed and got into the vehicle. Although he had failed in his assignment earlier in the night, it had not been his fault. Who could have expected Holden to find a way around the building, or for two other kindred to come to the Reimer's aid?
The back of the limousine was nothing like the well-polished outside suggested. Rather than a wet bar, there was a weapons rack. The seats had been ripped out and replaced with small cushions to sit on, so as to make room for boxes of ammunition. Geist sat across from Travis, one of his Templar bodyguards sitting on either side of him. Everyone knew that these two Templars were both Geist's childer. They were loyal to the death, and had seen countless battles. They were amongst the strongest of the kindred of the city. Another of the Templars sat next to Travis. This one was a Nosferatu, a man by the name of Bruce Banner. Just like the comic book character from which the vampire took his name, this man was huge, and had a reputation for being just as strong as the Hulk. It was clear that Geist wished for Travis to feel uneasy.
"You failed me this evening, Travis," Geist said, his voice betraying none of the anger that Travis was sure the bishop was feeling. "We had wanted to eliminate Clan Telemon before we started our offensive this evening. You have now put me in a very difficult position."
Before Travis could answer, Banner had grabbed the Toreador's head in his hands and began to squeeze. The pain was immediate and unbearable, and Travis had the distinct feeling that while this was already excruciating, the Nosferatu could very likely increase the pressure.
"You understand that the price of failure is death, do you not?" Geist asked the young Toreador, who fought his desire to struggle, knowing it would only make the situation worse. Geist nodded quickly to Banner, and the Nosferatu released his hold on the Toreador. "If you fail me again, I will allow my associate to crush your head like a nut. For now, though, I need you." He looked the Toreador over a second before continuing, noting the fear that Travis betrayed in his eyes. "What went wrong tonight, Travis?"
"I walked him into the alley, just like you said," Travis began. "He even sent Holden around to the other side of the building, just like you said he probably would." Travis stopped for a moment, hoping that his slight compliment as to Geist's ability to predict the actions of his enemies had been noticed. "He got all shot up, but was able to jump down into a storm drain."
"Yes, that was expected," Geist replied. "We knew that once Reimer went into the storm sewer, there would be no escape. There were no branches or exits in either direction for over half a mile. He wouldn't be able to hide in the tunnels, either."
"Well, as soon as we were in the tunnel, we took off, and your guys followed. Someone jumped them from behind, though," Travis said, hoping that Geist would see that the situation had been completely unforeseeable.
"Who?" Geist asked impatiently, not missing a beat.
"Holden showed up with Matt's sire and a Gangrel from outside the city," Travis answered, unconsciously moving himself against the door, as far away from Banner as he could possibly get inside the limousine.
"Holden shouldn't have been able to get anywhere near that alley, we had it completely cut off," Geist replied, not bothering to hide his irritation. "Are you sure you're not just making this up to save your own ass?"
"I swear," Travis said, his fear clearly evident in his voice. "Give me another chance, and I won't let you down."
"Of course you won't," Geist replied, almost purring. "Our offensive starts later tonight, near sunrise. That way they won't be able to counter-attack until tomorrow night, which forces them to think about what they'll be getting into. This will cause fear, and when they are afraid, we are well on our way to winning." Travis nodded in understanding though he seemed to be in confusion as he listened to the bishop. "There will be no more attempts on Reimer for now, we need to concentrate on tearing Julian Luna apart. This is where you come in."
"I can't defeat Julian," Travis answered, shocked that Geist would even suggest such a ludicrous scheme. Everyone on the West Coast knew that Julian was one of the most powerful princes in the New World. "Even if I could get close enough, it'll never happen."
"Be silent, you fool," Geist said, raising his right hand, threatening to strike the ignorant Toreador. Travis cringed in response, and Geist continued with a grin. "I know you can't defeat Julian, you're a Toreador, and in combat you're worthless."
"I am not Toreador, I am Toreador antitribu" Travis responded with pride, his fear quickly vanishing. He had realized as soon as he had finished that he may have signed his own death warrant with his outburst, but Geist only smiled in response. Travis had always been proud of the fact that he had attached himself to the anti-tribe of the Toreador, that faction which tended to side with the Sabbat rather than the Camarilla. He despised being referred to as a member of the main faction of the clan, which he considered full of self-important hedonists.
"We will see, Travis," Geist responded coolly, choosing not to threaten Travis with more physical punishment for the time being. "Young Sasha, Julian's 'niece,' she is very important to him. Little does he know that Sasha's sire, Gino, was one of us. He was antitribu. Somewhere within her flows the blood of her sire, and she may be convinced to join us. This will go a long way in tearing down the support structure that Luna has become so dependent on."
"Bringing Sasha over to us is not all it will take to break Julian," Travis replied, deciding that Geist's earlier lenience was a sign that he had been forgiven, and could talk freely once again. "I've never known a stronger kin-, I mean, vampire." He had almost erred and referred to Julian as kindred. Within the Sabbat, the word was considered a profanity. The members of the Sabbat did not feel the need to hide their true nature behind euphemisms, and took pride in their identities. They referred to themselves as vampires. However, Travis still spent most of his time with the members of the Camarilla, amongst whom he was expected to use their self-denying terminology. He hoped that Geist would understand the slip.
"No, you are correct, of course," Geist replied, not seeming to have even noticed Travis' faux pas. "Bringing in Sasha will only be one of our steps toward breaking Julian Luna. I have plenty of other things in store for him." Geist smiled thinly as he finished, and the limousine pulled back over to the curb. "Now be going, Travis, and do your best."
"Yes sir, Travis replied as he got out. He was indeed happy to be alive, but he had absolutely no idea how he was going to convince the niece of Julian Luna to defect from her own uncle's camp to the Sabbat. The Toreador had many things to think about as he began the long walk to the Haven, where he would meet with his sire's blood brother, the man who had brought him into the Sabbat. Travis smiled at the thought that Julian Luna always felt completely safe within the Haven, his place of so-called elysium, where no kindred violence was permitted. Travis wondered what Julian would do if he ever found out that a member of the Sabbat was in the Haven on a nightly basis. Indeed, he wondered what the reaction would be if Julian and his people were to find out that their city was actually under siege.
V
Matt raced his Humvee through the open gate at the foot of Julian's driveway, not stopping to check in with the two Gangrel that were watching the entrance. The open gate would be one obvious thing that would change in the very near future as a result of the Sabbat siege, Matt noted. As soon as Cash heard that the Sabbat was in the city, he would make sure the grounds were sealed as tightly as possible. Matt drove up to the front of the Luna mansion, and was met by three armed Gangrel which had come out to verify that it was indeed the Telemon primogen who had blown through the gate checkpoint. Once they saw that it was Matt, they lowered their weapons but continued to approach. "Why didn't you stop at the gate?" Lana asked, obviously irritated at Matt's lack of respect for the procedures that he himself had implemented only months earlier, when the Telemon had been in charge of the prince's security. Matt decided that Lana was probably in charge of the guard that night, being one of Cash's childer. She had recently started her own brood, and they most likely constituted the rest of the security on the grounds that evening.
"I have some important news for Julian," Matt responded, not bothering to stop to talk with the young Gangrel. "Is he home?"
"He's busy right now," Lana answered, nodding toward a silver Mercedes parked in front of the garage.
"Great," Matt muttered. He knew all too well that the Mercedes belonged to Caitlin Byrne, and signified that Julian did not wish to be disturbed for the remainder of the evening.
"What's the holdup?" Johnny asked as he got out of the Humvee, taking a few moments to steady himself after the reckless driving that Matt had exhibited on the trip over to the mansion.
"He's with his human friend," Matt answered, a slight tinge of disgust in his voice. Johnny noticed the tone immediately, and was touched with a feeling of approval. He was glad that Matt had so quickly adjusted to the fact that he was no longer mortal, and had no business preoccupying himself with mortal desires. All that mattered now was the urge to feed. Any need for companionship or a physical experience could be gained through the sharing of blood with another of their kind. The feeling was euphoric, and the sharing would result in the blood bond, the feeling of intense loyalty, even love, for the other.
"Well, let's go wake him then," Johnny answered with a smile as he began to walk toward the house.
"I don't think he's asleep," Michelle put in as she caught up with him.
"It's just a figure of speech," Johnny continued as he approached the door. "I was simply trying to be polite. Leave it to you to lack discretion." Michelle only responded by lightly punching Johnny in the back.
"You two aren't going anywhere," Lana said as she caught up to the two kindred and grabbed them by the back of their jackets. "I don't even know who you are."
"So what?" Johnny asked, obviously unimpressed with Julian's security guard. Matt noted Johnny's reaction, realizing that his sire had apparently gained some confidence in his latest trip away from San Francisco. "Get your dirty Gangrel hands off me," Johnny said, slapping away Lana's grip on his shoulder.
"Hey," Michelle said as she punched Johnny in the face, knocking him back a couple of steps. "You said you'd stop with the comments about my clan." She seemed to be only half-joking this time, Matt noticed. Michelle had never taken well to Johnny's occasional derogatory comments about the Gangrel. Yashida was fairly metropolitan in personality, a true city-dweller, and never seemed to understand the Gangrel affinity for the more rustic locales.
"It was a joke," Johnny answered, himself unsure whether Michelle was indeed serious. "I didn't mean anything by it. I love the Gangrel clan, you know that. Why else would I let you tag along with me?"
"Oh, that does it," Michelle snarled as she lunged at Yashida. Before Lana could do anything to intervene, Johnny had Michelle pinned to the ground and was tickling her so much the Gangrel could do nothing but laugh.
Lana moved to break the two up, but Matt just grabbed her on the shoulder and tried to explain. "Those two are Michelle Marlowe, a Gangrel from Pennsylvania, and Johnny Yashida, my sire. Just let them go, they're always like this."
"That's your sire?" Lana asked incredulously. Matt only responded with a nod. Lana was unable to hide her surprise. She had never given much thought to what Matt's sire must have been like, but faced with the situation she decided that she would have expected someone that resembled Howie Long. "Your grandsire must be real proud," Lana commented as she walked toward the mansion to retake her guard position.
Matt grabbed her before she had taken another full step. "He is older than you in both blood and years, childe," Matt spat in anger. "You will show him the proper respect, or I will put you down like a dog." Lana saw immediately that the Telemon primogen was deadly serious, and her fear prevented her from being able to do any more than nod in acknowledgement. By that point Johnny was able to come over, having apparently defeated Michelle in whatever contest for supremacy in which the two had been engaged.
"So, can we go in now?" Johnny asked, looking up at the window that he knew led to Julian Luna's bedroom. He tried to catch a glimpse of any action going on, but was denied the opportunity, due to the black velvet curtains that covered the glass.
"No," Lana replied sternly. "The prince gave strict instructions to not be disturbed. That includes you, Matt," she finished as she glanced at Reimer. Lana felt awkward having to deny a request from one of the city's primogen, especially since Matt seemed to think it was so important, but she was compelled to follow the instructions that had been left for her.
"I don't care what he said," Matt said as he started again for the door. "I really need to see him."
"It's impossible," Lana repeated, walking next to the Telemon and grabbing a hold of his arm.
"Enough of this shit," Johnny muttered as he took his sawed-off shotgun from the holster on his back, and fired two shots into the air.
"What the hell are you doing?" Lana shouted, drawing a .357 revolver and pointing it at Yashida.
"At least he'll probably come out to us now," Yashida commented to Matt as he reloaded the double-barrel shotgun. The Telemon seemed completely oblivious to the fact that Lana had a gun trained on his skull. The reason for his lack of concern became obvious a moment later when Michelle grabbed Lana from behind and threw her to the driveway, disarming her.
"You should be more careful, you might hurt someone," she said with a wide grin, twirling the revolver around her index finger.
"What the hell is going on out here?" Julian shouted as he ran out the front door, brandishing a combat shotgun in his hands. He scanned the group of kindred over, and then saw Johnny. "Oh, Mr. Yashida, I assume you're to blame for the gunfire," Julian commented with an extremely condescending tone.
"Yeah, I ask entrance into your city or something, and so does she," Johnny replied sarcastically, gesturing toward Michelle. "Oh yeah, Matt has a little piece of information for you, but if you're not more polite, I think he should withhold it from you."
"What?" Julian said, obviously offended. "You come onto my grounds and talk to me like this?"
"I'm sorry," Johnny replied, quickly appearing to regain his composure and remembering the civil, respectful role that he was to play in San Francisco. "I've spent too much time in Sabbat cities recently. You kind of forget the social niceties when you live amongst those animals."
"You've been living in Sabbat cities?" Julian asked in obvious disbelief. He did not think Yashida would last in a Sabbat-held city for an hour, no less for any extended period of time.
"If I stay here for very long, I may be doing it again really soon," Johnny answered. "Matt has all the information about that, though. I just came along for the ride. Like I said, I simply ask for entrance into your domain, along with my friend." From the look that played out across Julian's face, the meaning of Johnny's words had not been lost on the prince. Nonetheless, Julian regained his composure quickly, and addressed Johnny's request.
"Is she also Telemon?" Julian asked. He was suddenly concerned that Johnny was perhaps bringing a Sabbat vampire into his city, and he wanted to check her lineage.
"No," Johnny replied. "She's Gangrel. Her father was prince of State College, Pennsylvania, before my clan took control. It was a peaceful transition, he just didn't want the hassle anymore."
"Yes, you can both stay for awhile," Julian answered. "Matt, come inside, we have to talk," Julian instructed, motioning for Matt to follow. The Telemon primogen gave a sideways glance to Lana, seeming to say, "I told you so," and then walked behind Julian.
The two kindred went inside, leaving Yashida and Michelle with the three Gangrel guards. Johnny looked the guards over for a few minutes, and then turned to Michelle with a mischievous grin, speaking loudly enough for the guards to hear him. "Let's get that minigun out of the back seat. I'll bet you can't hit the weathervane on the roof without hitting anything else." Michelle looked back with a similar grin, and the two raced over to the Humvee. Lana, in turn, was overcome with a feeling of dread and raced after them, hoping to prevent any extensive damage.
Inside, however, the tone was far more serious. Julian led Matt into his study, seating himself in his leather chair near the fireplace and motioning for Matt to sit in the other seat across from him. Matt complied, and waited for the prince to address him.
"Am I to infer from your sire's comments that the Sabbat has laid siege to my city?" Julian asked after a few moments of contemplation. Rather than answer immediately, Matt looked the prince over, trying to gauge Julian's reaction to the news. At first glance, the Ventrue seemed unfazed by the situation, apparently treating the siege as just another administrative problem to be solved. Upon closer inspection, however, the truth was evident. Matt could see the way Julian bit slightly at his lower lip, the way the prince's eyes seemed to dart around the room, searching for threats in the shadows. The Telemon knew for certain that Julian was indeed nervous about what he had heard.
"Yes, I guess the Sabbat is here" Matt replied after a few moments. "At least, that's what Johnny told me."
"Do you believe him?" Julian asked, getting right to the point. He did not seem too trusting of Matt's sire. In fact, even as he said the words, he wondered why someone like Johnny would have even selected someone like Matt as a childe. They seemed far too dissimilar. He decided that it had to be a result of the influence of Johnny's sire, the progenitor of their bloodline.
"He has never lied to me before," Matt answered, realizing immediately that his statement was not entirely accurate. "At least not about anything as important as this," the Telemon clarified. Matt watched over the prince for a few moments, trying to gauge Julian's response.
"Are Yashida's source's reliable?" Julian asked, appearing to become more concerned about the situation as he heard more about it.
"They always have been," Matt replied honestly. His sire may not have been the greatest warrior in their clan, but he was useful in his ability to come by information with seemingly the greatest of ease. Yashida's role had always been that of intelligence gatherer. The Telemon, being a clan of warriors, knew that in many situations, volume and accuracy of information controlled the outcome of battles. "Besides, Julian, this is the Sabbat we're talking about here," Matt added. "Whether the information is true or not, we have to act as if it is. We can't take any chances."
"You're right, of course," Julian said with a thin smile, resigning himself to accepting the day that every prince in the Americas knew was inevitable. The Sabbat had finally arrived at his doorstep, and he would have to deal with them… violently. "There's no harm in still hoping that it's not true, though." The prince leaned back in his chair for a few minutes, seemingly turning over ideas in his head. Matt simply sat and waited for his prince's orders, not wanting to interfere with his thoughts at all. As it turned out, he would not have to. Caitlin came into the room, wearing a short, purple silk robe that Matt was certain Julian had bought for her. The remaining vestiges of Matt's humanity gazed longingly at Caitlin, admiring the way the dark fabric contrasted with her smooth, pale skin. He gazed at the curves of Caitlin's body underneath the thin fabric, and wondered what it would be like to once more enjoy physical pleasure, as the prince seemed to. The Telemon quickly put the thoughts out of his mind, though, and concentrated at the task at hand. He was no longer mortal, he was kindred. Sexual desire had no place in his mind. All that mattered was feeding and destroying his enemies. Such was the existence of kindred in the Telemon clan
"Hi Matt," Caitlin said as she entered the room, her bare feet seeming to glide over the plush Oriental rug. When Matt had first taken over for security for Julian, he had always made Caitlin very nervous. He exuded an aura of authority that Cash never had, and that had made it harder to ignore the fact that Julian always had a bodyguard present. Over the course of a couple of months, however, she had gotten quite used to having him around. In fact, when Cash had gone back to his old position of bodyguard, Caitlin actually had missed Matt's presence. She felt almost unduly exposed, despite the fact that Julian was still with her. It was not that she felt less safe, she knew, but that it was just obvious that something was missing. "Julian, are you coming back to bed?" she asked, turning back to her boss.
"No Caitlin," Luna replied without even looking at her. "Some very important business has just come up. You'll have to get going." He finally looked up at her to see the mixture of disappointment and offense that was written in her expression. He hated to dismiss her like this, but he needed to eliminate as many distractions as possible. "Matt, can you take Caitlin home tonight?" Julian asked, his tone making it clear that he was giving an order, not making a request.
"Sure," the primogen of the Telemon clan replied. "I assume we'll be having a meeting when I get back." Julian only nodded in response. "I'll be waiting outside, Caitlin," Matt said as he turned back to Julian's lover.
"I can get home ok by myself," Caitlin replied, seemingly indignant. "Besides, I have my car here, I don't want to leave it behind."
"I'll have someone drive it home for you," Matt answered, cutting away any objections she may be able to pose. The last thing he needed was to have Caitlin distracting Julian when the Sabbat was in the city. The prince would need to focus all of his attention on their enemies if the battle was to be won quickly.
"Ok, Matt," Caitlin said, finally relenting. She realized from Julian's lack of attention to her words was more than enough to signify that their evening together was at an end. "I'll see you outside," she said absently to the Telemon as she walked back to the bedroom to get dressed.
Matt walked outside, almost immediately setting his eyes on Lana and Johnny, who seemed to be having an argument about the chances of the Forty-niners making the Super Bowl that year. "Johnny, can you do me a favor?" he yelled out to his sire.
"Absolutely, Johnny replied as he came over, seeming disappointed that he had been unable to finish convincing Lana that the San Francisco dynasty was dead, and that the Giants would rise again to control the fate of the NFC.
"I have to drive Caitlin home, and I was wondering if you could drive her car to her place for her," Matt asked.
"Not a problem," Johnny answered with a smile, immediately taking a few steps toward the car. "You have an address for me?" he asked, turning back. Though he had no intention of heading directly to Caitlin's he did not want to make the fact obvious by not even bothering to find out where he was supposed to be going.
"Sure," Matt replied, already starting to feel a little uneasy about having asked Johnny to drive Caitlin's Mercedes anywhere. He wrote down the address on the back of a business card he had gotten earlier in the evening. "Be careful with the car, Johnny. Remember, she's the prince's girlfriend."
"Don't hassle it," Johnny responded with a smile. "Woman, come on, we're going," Johnny yelled out to Michelle, who seemed to still be trying to figure out how to work the minigun. She turned and glared at him for a moment, but then ran across the driveway to join him at the car.
A couple of minutes later, Caitlin came out of the mansion and joined Matt, just as Johnny was pulling away from the driveway. "What the hell? Who's driving my car?!" Caitlin shouted at Matt.
"Oh, that's my friend Johnny, he's just taking your car home for you," Matt answered, reminding Caitlin that he was going to arrange to have her car driven home.
"How's he driving it, I still have the keys," Caitlin said as she looked at Matt with a somewhat accusing stare.
"Oh, that never stopped him before," Matt replied as he walked over to his Hummer. He did not even look back to see Caitlin's response to his comment, as he was sure he knew what it would be.
VI
Chuck and Jonas both looked at each other and smiled, knowing that the time they had been waiting for had finally arrived. Geist had met with them both only minutes earlier and informed them that the moment had come to launch their attack against the Camarilla. He had left the means of their assault up to them, knowing that these two experienced Sabbat soldiers, his lieutenants and the leaders of his two packs, would be suitably violent and destructive in their methods.
"What do you have in mind?" Jonas asked his fellow pack leader. In addition to being a pack leader, Jonas also served as his pack's priest, the man who would lead the packs in the rituals of the Sabbat. Of course, in Chuck's pack it was Molochai, the Tzimisce, who held the title of priest. In knowledge of the arcane, only the Tremere rivaled Molochai's clan, and the Tzimisce was well schooled in this lore. Jonas continued looking at the other pack leader, waiting for his response. Both of these vampires had taken part in sieges before, and each had his own preferences for how to carry out the first assault. While the goal was to inspire fear in their opponents, Chuck liked to accomplish this by beating down the Camarilla of the city; Jonas preferred to torture and maim, and put the fear of a slow, painful death in the minds of his enemies.
"I think I'll take my pack out for a little gang-banging in the Mission District," Chuck answered. "That's where all the Gangrel like to hang out when they're not on guard duty for that worm, Luna." Jonas nodded with approval. Chuck was a City Gangrel, and loved to be a little public in his methods. He also despised the Gangrel that were members of the Camarilla. He saw them as weak vampires that spent too much time longing for the opportunity to live in a wilderness and feed on the animals of the wild, rather than the humans that virtually all other kindred used as food. "What about you?" Chuck then asked his comrade.
"I was thinking that I'd take my pack out, grab a bunch of mortals, and have a blood feast," Jonas answered. "It seems like the best way to kick off a siege." Chuck smiled at the other pack leader, appreciating the flair for formality and socialization that the Toreador antitribu brought to all matters in their group. "Actually," Jonas continued, "if you grab one of the Gangrel for me, I'll have my pack grab a bunch of extra people, and you can all join us before we go to sleep for the day."
"What did you have in mind, torture games?" Chuck asked.
"All in due time," the Toreador replied with a grin. "I'll see you and your pack later at the warehouse." With that Jonas left quickly, wanting to get his pack out on the streets before it was too late at night. They would have to grab at least twenty mortals to make for a good blood feast, and the later it got, the less likely it would be that they could find suitable vessels.
Chuck also left quickly, running out to the two minivans that they had acquired for the night's entertainment. Jason and Marie were each loading up one of the vans with shotguns and Mac-10's, looking forward to the fun that they would be having in a short time. Chuck stopped and looked his pack over for a few moments, appreciating everything that they brought to the whole. This is the strength of the Sabbat, he thought. In the Camarilla, each clan stayed separate and distinct, but in the Sabbat a pack could be composed of many clans, each member bringing the distinct abilities and attitudes of his clan into the group.
He looked first to Lissette, his own childe. She was a prototypical City Gangrel. She was vicious in combat, and got a special thrill from being able to sneak up on her prey and kill them before they had a chance to respond. Over the years the city Gangrel had developed disciplines that were significantly different from their forest dwelling kin, and Lissette took full advantage of these different vampiric abilities.
Of course, there was also Becca, a Ventrue antitribu. Many in the Sabbat looked upon the Ventrue antitribu as a completely different clan from the Ventrue in the Camarilla. In the Sabbat, the Ventrue antitribu were reckless and carefree, polar opposites of the conservative, restrained Ventrue of the Camarilla. Becca was particularly wild, being even more like the Brujah than anyone else in her clan. Even Jimmy was more self-controlled than Becca usually was.
Becca's grandchilde, Marie, was the youngest of the pack in both blood and years. In fact, her blood was so thin that she was unable to even sire any childer, as she was too far removed from Caine. She was often stuck with the busy-work of the pack, but to her credit she never complained. She just seemed to cut loose just a little more when the opportunity came to have fun, as if she was making up for the time she had lost by doing her chores.
Jason was a Lasombra, a member of the clan that held dominance within the Sabbat. As such he was accorded much respect. His packmates gave him even more than he would have been due, however, since he had at one time or another saved the life of everyone in the pack. The only other one in the group to have matched this feat was Chuck, who was the undisputed leader.
Molochai was the most unique of the vampires in Chuck's pack. As a Tzimisce, he was descended from human nobility of Eastern Europe. He never acted it, though. He lived only to inflict pain on his enemies, paying no heed to the upper-class social niceties that had been at least a part of the lives of his brutal ancestors. This ferocity, however, was put to good use not only in battle, but also when he fulfilled his role as the priest of his pack. He was known to be a fiery speaker during the Sermons of Caine, during which the priests reminded the Sabbat of their history and their duties toward the whole.
Jimmy "the Greek" was a Brujah antitribu of fairly potent blood. He was the one that they could all rally around when things started to go against them in a fight. Of course, this had only happened a few times in the history of this relatively young pack, but it was good to know that if it should ever happen again, they had Jimmy to fall back on. Besides, Chuck thought with a grin, no one knows sports like Jimmy the Greek. His tips had provided them all with some impressive results with various bookies, allowing each of the pack members to build up a nice little nest egg.
The last was Sandra, a Tremere antitribu. To say that no one in the pack fully trusted her would be to put it mildly, but no one dared to cross her. She was said to be quite adept at the blood magic of the Tremere clan, and nobody wished to discover just how good she was. Of course, Molochai was known to hate Sandra, as the Tremere had been responsible for the almost complete decimation of the Tzimisce clan, but at the same time he was also the most frightened of his Tremere packmate, and so he simply kept his distance.
Once the weapons were all loaded in the vans, Chuck gave the signal for them to get in so the fun could begin. There would be many unhappy Gangrel by the time the sun came up.
VII
Theo and his brood sat on their motorcycles outside the pool hall that they had claimed as Gangrel territory. Not long ago, the Brujah had controlled the entire neighborhood, but since Cameron's rise to power and the arrival of Rayce as his advisor, the entire Brujah clan had taken a turn toward the legitimate. This provided many neighborhoods for the Gangrel to hang out in that they had never been able to safely enter before.
Max, the oldest of Theo's childer, looked over to his sire, wondering what was going on in the city. "Hey, boss, do you know why Cash took off so quickly earlier?"
"Not a clue," Theo answered. All he knew was that his sire had raced off as soon as he had gotten a call from the prince. Apparently, something really big was going down in the city. Julian had called for an emergency meeting of the primogen, something reserved for only the direst of circumstances.
Before he could ponder the happenings of the night much more, though, he noticed a light blue Dodge Caravan approaching the group of them very slowly. When it got to within ten feet, Theo saw that the people inside the minivan were all armed to the teeth, and they were aiming at him and his childer.
"Get down!" the Gangrel yelled, just as gunfire broke the relative silence of the night. He saw Max get cut down by three shotgun blasts, each seeming to hit him simultaneously. Carl and Jana were both ripped apart by shots from a couple of Mac-10's, but Rick had managed to hit the ground in time to avoid being hit. Theo pulled out his Beretta, even as he wondered what good it would do against the more heavily armed attackers. Before he could get a shot off, though, several rounds hit him from the Mac-10's. He saw Rick get thrown back a few feet from the force of a shotgun blast to his chest, and a few more bullets hit his other childer.
As he lay on the ground in pain, Theo wondered how many shooters could have fit in one minivan. It was then that he saw the second van across the street, its occupants also firing at the Gangrel. Theo realized immediately that their attackers had their act together, that this was no ordinary drive-by; but that knowledge made no difference.
Molochai, Becca, and Chuck got out of the first van and raced over to the fallen kindred, looking them over quickly. "This is the one," Molochai said, gesturing toward Theo. "This is Theo, the progenitor of the brood."
Theo heard the words as if they came to him in a dream, as he was now unable to move. His blood loss was already great as he struggled to repair the injuries the attackers had caused to him. He heard more gunfire, and was able to look to his side, to see Becca and Molochai firing more bullets into his Gangrel brood. Chuck approached Theo brandishing a sharpened stake, and the Gangrel struggled to get up, to avoid the death that he was certain was quickly approaching.
Chuck smiled as he watched the Gangrel wriggle in a pool of blood for a few moments, and then staked him through the heart, sending him into torpor. "I think this will please our comrades quite a bit," Chuck said as he gathered up the Gangrel and slung him over his shoulder. "Let's get going, the cops will be here any minute."
Even as he said the words, they could hear the sirens off in the distance, slowly getting louder as the police cruisers approached the site of the shooting. Molochai and Becca fired a couple of more shots at the fallen Gangrel, just for good measure, and they all got back in the van. A moment later, Marie had them all speeding off down the street, safely ahead of the police responding to the gunshots.
As Sgt. Parker approached in his squad car, he saw the Gangrel getting up from the sidewalk. He was struck speechless as he saw the bullet-holes in their clothes and the blood on the pavement. The young kindred, however, ignored the approaching cop and started their bikes and sped off, not being experienced enough to stop and consider the situation. Had they stopped to think, they would have realized that their actions were a significant threat to the Masquerade.
VIII
The mood around the conclave table was at once somber and intense. When Julian had called a meeting of the primogen, he had done so with the belief that the Sabbat may be invading his city. In the hour that had transpired between him notifying his primogen of the emergency meeting and the arrival of them all at his mansion, the Sabbat threat had been all but completely confirmed with an attack on the brood of Theo, one of Cash's own childer. Almost a year before they had all thought themselves invaded by the Sabbat, only for the threat to turn out to be an invasion by a pack of werewolves. This time it was far different – the threat was all too real. While none of Theo's brood had been killed in the attack, there was concern that a policeman saw the bullet-riddled bodies get up and walk away. He would have to have his memory altered as soon as possible, or else a serious threat to the Masquerade could develop. What was worse was that Theo had been taken by the Sabbat for Caine only knew what, and the Gangrel were all looking for immediate retribution.
"What do you plan to do about my childe, Julian?" Cash asked, predictably being the first to break the silence. "They gunned him down and took him. You know the stories as well as I do. You know what they'll probably do to him."
"I know the stories," Julian muttered in response, "but they're just stories. I will not declare open war just to avenge one kindred. Our first priority is the defense of the Masquerade."
"I agree," Daedalus put in, his voice little more than a whisper. "As bad as the Sabbat might be, the humans can be even worse. The Sabbat knows we fear discovery, so they will break the Masquerade at every opportunity, trying to bring us out into the open to fight. We should avoid this at all costs, and just cover up their indiscretions."
"I agree with Daedalus, at least for now," Patrick said with apparent reluctance. "We do not yet know how many of them there are. We have to find out as much as we can before we commit ourselves to fighting them."
"Are you out of your mind?" Matt questioned the Tremere primogen. The Telemon primogen found himself halfway out of his chair, lunging at Patrick, before he was able to check his reaction. "This is the Sabbat," Matt continued slightly more calmly. "Every day we wait gives them the opportunity to embrace more humans. I don't know how many of them there are now, but I can assure you that however many there are, the numbers right now are the most advantageous for us that they'll be during this siege. We won't replace our losses as quickly as they will, and we'll eventually be overwhelmed."
"I agree with Matt," Cameron said nervously, looking at each of the other primogen. "Besides, he's the only one of all of us who has ever even seen a Sabbat siege. His opinion carries a lot of weight as far as I'm concerned."
"Fuckin' A!" Cash added enthusiastically. "If you others won't fight, I'll follow Clan Telemon to the front lines. You can hide in your mansions or your sewers, it doesn't matter to me. The Gangrel are going to war!"
"You will not go to war until I say you can go to war," Julian responded emphatically. He saw exactly where this was going, and he hoped to stop it as soon as possible. Otherwise, he knew, his entire conclave might dissolve, and within months the clans would be fighting each other as much as they were fighting the Sabbat. If that were to happen, the war would be lost. "Keep in mind, Cash, that I am the prince, and only I can declare a Blood Hunt on an enemy. If I decide to go to war against the Sabbat, there will be a Blood Hunt called." The mention of a Blood Hunt had the desired effect, as everyone settled down a little bit. The Blood Hunt was the ultimate punishment in the kindred community. Kindred who had one called against them would be chased by every other kindred in the city until they were extinguished. The only way to escape was to flee to other cities, but it was also not unheard of for the prince of the second city to extend the punishment, so that escape might become impossible. Of course, where the Sabbat was concerned, extending this sentence would be unnecessary – any prince with Sabbat in his city would have them hunted down and exterminated as if they were an infestation of rats.
"So what would you have us do, Julian?" Cameron asked, obviously surprised and frustrated by Julian's unwillingness to fight. "Not as many of my clan are on the streets as there once were, so we're not as vulnerable as the Gangrel, but it's only a matter of time. The Sabbat will wipe out the Gangrel, and then they'll pick off each of the rest of the clans one at a time, at their own convenience. You have to let us fight."
As quickly as Julian had thought he had regained control of the situation, he lost it again. It seemed as if he would have to allow the Gangrel, Telemon, and Brujah to go to war. The only question was whether he would force the others to support the more militant clans.
"I have a suggestion," Patrick said. All eyes turned to the primogen of the Tremere, and he waited a few moments before continuing, adding a suitable amount of drama to the situation. "It appears obvious that not everyone is willing to commit their clans to a war, but a good case has been made for launching an assault on the Sabbat immediately. I suggest that we divide our resources."
"Unacceptable," Matt interrupted. He gazed at the Tremere primogen, obviously displeased with Patrick's suggestion. In Matt's eyes, the Tremere had no place attempting to formulate strategy. The warlocks were formidable in their own way, but when it came to battle, Matt felt that the Telemon should have the primary voice in planning a response to the Sabbat attacks. "It has to be all or nothing," Matt said forcefully. "If we do this job half-ass, we'll all wind up staked and left for the morning sun."
"Please, allow me to finish," Patrick responded smoothly, seemingly unfazed by the young Telemon's interruption. "You have said yourself, Matt, that the Sabbat will keep embracing more and more childer until they overwhelm us. The largest problem with this is that we have to find the sires of all of these new childer, or we will never have any success." Patrick spoke slowly, hoping that he would be able to bring all of the other primogen along on his logical progression. He had his doubts that Cash, Matt, or Cameron would be able to keep up, but he continued nonetheless. "Like the hydra, new heads will keep replacing those we destroy until we can find the heart of our enemy. It is then that we should strike, and not now."
"We've already covered this, I think," Cash said, validating Patrick's fears that he had not been simple enough in his explanation.
"Silence!" Patrick snarled, apparently no longer willing to be patient with any interruptions. Cash shrank back in response, seeming completely intimidated by the incredible presence that was being exuded by the Tremere primogen. For a brief moment it appeared that Julian would intervene to control the Tremere, but he decided to hear Patrick out, hoping that the infamous Tremere gift for subtlety and manipulation could be put to good use. "I think we are all willing to agree that most of the experienced soldiers come from the Brujah, Gangrel, and Telemon clans," Patrick conceded. "They are well suited to the role of warriors. The multitudes of newly embraced Sabbat will have to be constantly trimmed back, and these three clans can accomplish this." Patrick waited a moment before continuing as he gave Cash, Matt, and Cameron the opportunity to absorb the fact that they were being given exactly what they wanted. "The rest of us have several mortal contacts, or, in the case of the Nosferatu, several kindred contacts unknown to the rest of us, that can help get us closer to the main members of the Sabbat siege. Once we figure out who they are, we can all combine our efforts and wipe the Sabbat out."
The primogen around the table all seemed satisfied enough with the idea, as evidenced by the fact that no one rose up immediately to reject the strategy. Cash seemed especially pleased, as it would give him a chance to get out on the streets and avenge his childe, whom he already gave up as lost. The question remained, however, as to how Julian would accept the compromise.
"I would be willing to put this plan in motion," Julian said after taking a moment to judge the opinions of his primogen. He had come to the conclusion that there was no other acceptable short-term solution. "However, I would modify it slightly." Everyone looked at him to see what else he had in mind for his city. "I would add the Ventrue clan to those that are launching a war against the Sabbat. There aren't many of us anymore, but we're more than willing, and able, to kick a little ass." Of course, they all thought, it was an understatement to say that there simply were not many of the Ventrue left. Including Julian, there were but five Ventrue in the city. That number included Jeffrey and Cassandra, who were in no way qualified for battle. They would be left behind to keep an eye on the prince's business affairs while he busied himself with war. However, the remaining three were Julian, his childe Sonny, and Sonny's new childe, Frank. Both Frank and Sonny were San Francisco police inspectors, and had seen action several times. As for Julian, no one forgot his violent past. Lillie, Cameron, and Daedalus all remembered what Julian was capable of when pushed, and each of them felt a slight sense of pity for the Sabbat vampires that had dared enter Julian's domain. They obviously had no idea of the power of the sleeping tiger they had awakened.
"All of you who will be seeking out the Sabbat leadership, coordinate your efforts with Daedalus as your head," Julian said. "I will take charge of the soldiers." The prince knew that he could trust Daedalus to not go too far in assuming power, as the old Nosferatu was completely uninterested in being the prince of a city. This would also allow Julian to keep an eye on Cameron, who had already made one play for the city in the past.
With that all done, Julian stood up quickly from the table and looked everyone over. "It's obviously too late to get your clans together, plan an attack, and launch it, so everyone plan to hit the streets tomorrow night," he instructed. "Now get going, we all have a lot to do."
IX
Chuck and the rest of his pack walked into the old warehouse that the Sabbat was using as its base of operations, all of them moving quickly toward the stairs to go up to the second floor. It was upstairs that the launching of the war with the Camarilla would be celebrated with a blood feast. Molochai was carrying Theo, who still had the stake in his heart. As long as the stake stayed in the kindred's chest, he would remain in torpor, a forced slumber akin to a coma for mortals.
As Chuck entered the main room on the second floor, he looked around and nodded in approval. Jonas and his pack had truly outdone themselves. Hangings from the ceiling, upside down, were twenty-five mortals. On a table at the entrance to the room was a tray holding a couple of dozen glass goblets, and on the middle of the table was a large silver bowl. Geist and Jonas walked up to the leader of the other pack. "We would like to partake in the Vaulderie," Geist said to Chuck.
"It only seems fitting," Chuck responded. "I assume that that's what the bowl is for?" Geist nodded, and Chuck motioned to Molochai to begin the ritual.
Molochai dropped the body of the Gangrel onto the floor and walked over to the table, slowly looking everyone over. "We will perform the Vaulderie, and then we will celebrate our victory," the Tzimisce priest stated excitedly to the other members of the Sabbat. He took out a knife and cut his wrist open, allowing the blood to drip for a bit into the bowl. After a few moments, he licked the open wound, causing it to heal, and he then passed the knife on to Geist, who followed suit.
Within a few minutes, every vampire present had drained a little bit of his blood into the bowl, and they all then drank a slight bit from it. The sharing of blood led to the development of the Vinculum, which was a weaker version of the vampiric blood bond. Some in the Camarilla would force a neonate to drink of his blood three times, forming a bond of intense loyalty and, some would say, love. In the Sabbat, the entire pack would submit itself to this heightening of loyalty, which made every soldier able to trust his comrades completely. It led to solidarity unequaled in any clan of the Camarilla. Even the Tremere, who partly blood-bound every initiate, did not produce the fanatical loyalty of the Sabbat in all of its members.
Once every vampire had drank from the bowl, they all turned to the humans that were hanging from the ceiling. A variety of mortals was present, catering to even the discriminating connoisseur. There were teenagers, adult men and women, a couple of children, and even an infant. Some of the victims even seemed to be intoxicated, which would provide a feeling of inebriation for the vampire that fed on them. As they all discussed their plans, they would go from one mortal to another, cutting open the throat and taking a little to drink. When the glass was full, they would lick the wound to close it, and then move on.
"This is truly an exquisite selection," Chuck commented as he walked over to Jonas. "It's a shame we can't do this more often."
"Yes, of course," Jonas replied, apparently a little affected by alcohol from the blood in one of the victims. "This is probably the best keg party we've ever had." Chuck smiled as he heard the Toreador use Becca's terminology for a blood feast. Somehow, it just did not seem the same unless the words were being spoken by a Ventrue antitribu. "So, you brought me back a canvas, I see," Jonas commented, pointing to the staked Gangrel. "I thank you very much."
"Not just an ordinary canvas," Chuck answered with a grin. "This is the first of Cash's childer to be considered responsible enough to embrace his own brood."
"Oh, so that's Theo," Jonas replied, being familiar with the identity of every one of the kindred that submitted to Julian Luna's' authority. "I always wondered what a young, responsible Gangrel would look like." He smiled thinly, and then walked toward the staked Gangrel. "Do you think you could help me bring him into the studio. I'd love to get to work before the sun comes up."
"Sure," Chuck replied, going over to Theo's motionless body and helping Jonas carry him into the 'studio.' Like all Toreador, Jonas considered himself an artist, but he worked to improve the human form. As a result, he constantly experimented with the prisoners of the Sabbat in order to create a perfect work of art. Very often the Toreador did not get the desired results, and at these times the victim was often handed over to the rest of the members of the packs, so that they could have fun playing torture games. Chuck hoped that would be the case this time, as he had some special plans himself for the Gangrel that they had taken prisoner that night.
The two vampires went into the studio, which more closely resembled a torture chamber than it did anything else. At Jonas' direction, they placed the body face-up on a long table, and chained down Theo's arms and legs. Jonas looked to Chuck, and then gestured up to the windows running along the top of the wall on the south side of the building. "This is going to be so cool, I wish I'd be awake for it," he said, almost with a giggle. "Oh well, film will have to do."
"What?" Chuck asked, not understanding what Jonas was getting at.
"The windows will let the sun in during the day," Jonas replied with a smile. "As the day goes on, the sun will move across the room toward the table, and Theo will have to lie here and wait. Of course, the fact that he'll be fighting off sleep the whole time will only increase the stress on him."
"You're going to incinerate him?" Chuck asked, sounding betrayed. "I thought we'd get to have a little fun with him first."
"Oh, I wouldn't incinerate this fine specimen," Jonas responded, smiling as he ran the back of his hand across Theo's cheek. "No, he'll be a masterpiece. The sun will stop approaching him about three inches from the edge of the table, I had my pet make sure about that yesterday."
Chuck laughed every time Jonas referred to his ghoul as his pet. The Toreador was the only one of them that even had a ghoul, and he justified the practice by saying that he needed the mortal retainer to get art supplies during the day. No one truly believed that was the whole reason, but at the same time they did not care. They all let Jonas keep his 'pet' around.
"I have a camera ready to record Theo's reaction when the sun gets to within four feet," Jonas continued. "I'm going to create the look of terror he reveals on his face as his permanent visage. It will be marvelous."
Chuck only nodded his head as Jonas began speaking of his 'art.' Somewhere along the way, the Toreador had learned the Tzimisce discipline of Vicissitude. This allowed him, essentially, to sculpt the features of an individual. The Toreador, who fancied himself an artist of the human form, could permanently alter all skin, bone, and muscle. In his less lucid moments, the Toreador was known to even compare himself to God, as he was the only other being that had truly experienced the joy of shaping the appearance of a human.
"Are you two quite done?" Geist asked as he opened the door. He looked the Gangrel over and nodded with approval. "How long are you going to leave the stake in his chest?" he asked.
"I'll take it out just before we retire for the day," Jonas responded. "What did you want us for?" he asked as he walked toward the door to join his bishop.
"I want you to choose the eight toughest looking of the mortals out there and have some of your people embrace them," Geist responded. "I want some shock troops tomorrow night."
"That's not really gonna give us the time for any kind of initiation," Chuck put in as he joined the other two and walked back to the Blood Feast.
"They will be initiated by fire," Geist responded. "If they survive, they are one with us. If not, then they were too weak for us to have wanted them anyway."
"And the rest of the people?" Chuck asked.
"Dispose of them," Geist answered indifferently. "Drain them completely and leave them somewhere the authorities will find them. Let Julian Luna try to cover it up if he's so damn concerned about the Masquerade."
The three walked into the Blood Feast and began to set about doing the work that was assigned to them. I wonder, Jonas thought to himself, if work was ever this fun when I was a mortal. He just could not remember.
X
"Nice digs," Johnny said with a whistle as he got out of the brand new Mitsubishi 3000GT. He looked over the compound that Matt and the rest of clan Telemon called home in San Francisco. His childe had certainly been thorough with security. Johnny was sure that motion sensors and infrared cameras monitored the ten-foot wall encircling the property, and that the gate at the bottom of the driveway was electrified. He could vaguely make out the gun turrets partially concealed behind the parapets on the roof. He had also been told that there were enough weapons in the basement arsenal to hold off the National Guard.
"Someday, I'm gonna have a place like this," Michelle said as she also got out of the car, following Johnny up the walkway to the front door. It was heavy, ironbound oak, and opened as the two approached.
"Mr. Yashida?" a man at the door asked.
"Yes, and Ms. Marlowe," Johnny replied as he gestured to Michelle. He felt the formality was almost comical, but it was the way of their clan. The protocol was simply a by-product of the discipline that they were all so accustomed to. All of them, that was, except for Johnny. Once again he was reminded of how little he belonged in his clan.
"Captain Reimer is in his study," the guard replied. "It's up the stairs, down the hall, and the third door on the left."
"Thank you," Johnny said as he walked in. Looking over the Oriental rug in the foyer, he wondered if it would be proper to take his shoes off before he started walking around the building. One look at the guard's combat boots convinced him otherwise, however. Johnny was certain that if boots were allowed around the house, no one would have a problem with his Reeboks.
As he walked up the stairs, Yashida noticed how much like a museum the mansion was. Portraits of some of the greatest military leaders of human history hung on the polished oak walls. At the top of the stairs stood a suit of medieval armor which Johnny was sure was authentic. As he walked down the hall, Johnny started to wonder where Matt had gotten the money to pay for his decorations. As he reached the door, he simply came to the conclusion that the position of the prince's personal bodyguard had been a profitable job.
Johnny opened the door to the study and walked in. Matt was hovering over a model of what appeared to be Napoleon's army at Austerlitz. Johnny was no major historian, but he had been in clan Telemon long enough to recognize what was probably the first major battle where an outnumbered force had prevailed solely on the basis of its use of artillery. Artillery had been Napoleon's forte, and Matt was very much like the former French emperor general in that respect. Johnny's gaze went quickly to another table next to the one that Matt was studying, and he became worried at what he saw. A model of San Francisco, apparently on the same scale as the Austerlitz model, was set up with various artillery positions in the city.
"Don't even tell me you're planning to use artillery to take over San Francisco," Johnny said only half-jokingly as he walked in. Matt only looked up and smiled in response.
"Are you kidding?" the primogen finally said in a slightly disappointed voice. "I'd need at least 25,000 infantry just to hold the city for three days. No, it would never work," he said, shaking his head. He suddenly looked over to Michelle, watching her walk over to a display case. "I've taken an inventory of everything in here, Michelle. Don't even think about taking any souvenirs."
Michelle looked at Matt with a hurt expression. "Why don't you say that to him?" she asked, motioning to Yashida.
"He's old enough to know better," Matt replied with a grin, hoping that his faith in Yashida was not misguided. "Now if only you'd act your age, Johnny," he lamented as he turned back to his sire.
"Where are they?" Johnny asked, deciding to cut short the joviality. He had come to San Francisco for a reason, and he wanted to get on with his work. The last thing Yashida wanted was for the meeting to drag on.
"Holden, Barry," Matt called out. "Come on in." A door on the far side of the room opened, and Matt's childe and grandchilde walked into the room. "This is my sire," he said to the two of them as he motioned to Johnny.
"Exactly what I'd expect," Johnny said, smiling, looking the two large men over. He was certain that each of them was every bit as tough as he looked. "You've done well for yourself out here," Johnny added, turning back to his childe.
"It's taken a lot of work," Matt replied.
"What about the guard at the door, and the two others walking the grounds that we weren't supposed to see?" Johnny asked.
"They're ghouls," Matt replied, not seeming at all surprised that his sire had in fact seen the hidden guards. "We've been training them, and eventually they may be embraced. It all depends on how well they work out for us. We have a group of twelve ghouls working here. Three at a time at eight hour shifts. Security is fairly good."
"Sounds like it," Johnny responded politely. While it was true that none of the other primogen, with the possible exception of Julian, had defenses like this, the Telemon compound remained hardly impregnable. Johnny was sure that either he or Michelle could get onto the grounds without being seen. "So, how did the meeting go?" Yashida asked, changing the topic.
"He's splitting us all up," Matt replied. "The Brujah, Gangrel, Telemon, and Ventrue will fight the Sabbat. The others will work to cover up the war and protect the Masquerade, while trying to find out where the Sabbat's leaders are hiding out."
"So the Nosferatu aren't going to join the fighting?" Johnny asked. He had hoped that the sewer rats would take part in the war, as they were often the oldest and most imposing kindred in a city. The Sabbat might have hesitated had the Nosferatu stood up in opposition to them.
"What's the Nosferatu?" Barry asked. Johnny just shook his head, feeling embarrassed for Matt. He knew that the childe had no military background, that he had been chosen solely because of his heart and skill, but Barry's lack of discipline was showing through terribly. This was not a discussion that he was privileged to take part in, as he was not yet even presented to the prince. As far as kindred law was concerned, he did not yet even exist.
"Hold your tongue," Matt said to Barry, silencing him immediately. "Remember, until you are told otherwise, you are not to speak unless spoken to. You must learn self-control."
"That's alright," Johnny said, coming to Barry's defense. He for one knew what it was like to be looked down on by the clan for lacking self-control. Still though, he wanted to have fun with the neonate. "Nosferatu," Johnny began, "is the name of a group of vampires, just as you are known as a Telemon. I'm sure Matt has at least told you that much." Johnny looked at Matt, who nodded, and then continued. "The Nosferatu are all horribly deformed, and almost always rather strong."
"They're all deformed?" Barry asked, oblivious to the fact that Matt was once again displeased with the childe's questions. Johnny answered with a nod of his head. "Why?" Barry asked, seemingly intrigued.
"It's because they're all old," Johnny answered. "As kindred get older, their features sag, and their skin wrinkles. Bones become twisted and misshapen."
"No they don't!" Matt interjected quickly. "Don't listen to him, Barry. He said the same thing to me when I was just embraced."
"How long did it take for you to find out the truth, anyway?" Johnny asked, smiling widely.
"What happened?" Barry asked curiously.
Johnny looked at the neonate, and then over to Holden. He could see that both kindred wanted to hear the story, so he decided that Matt's reputation would not suffer overly much from the anecdote, and began telling the story. "Just a couple of nights after embracing Matt, I had gone out to meet with a Nosferatu friend of mine. I took Matt along to show him off, as I was understandably proud of my new childe." A quick look over to Reimer showed the primogen that his sire still had a lot of pride in his childe's success. "Anyway," Johnny continued, "Matt was aghast at my friend's appearance. He asked me how it had happened, and I simply told him that it was just the natural course of life for a vampire. It's not like the movies – vampires actually age, and show it." Holden and Barry were both chuckling, and Matt attempted to appear as stalwart as ever.
"You believed that?" Holden asked.
"I had no idea that the Nosferatu were just another clan," Matt responded. "Why wouldn't I believe it? My sire was telling me this stuff."
"Yes," Johnny put in, "he was simply the unwitting victim of a joke. You should have seen the look on his face, though."
"That's enough levity for now, isn't it?" Matt asked, directing the group back to the purpose of this meeting. "I want to discuss our strategy in this little conflict."
"Little conflict?" Yashida asked his childe, his reaction a surprising combination of irritation and disappointment. Johnny had hoped that Matt had grown wiser than to think he could win a fight with the Sabbat without too much risk "Is this just a game to you, like your little tables with artillery models?" Yashida asked, his voice quickly rising to a yell. "You have not yet seen the true nature of the Sabbat. Those clowns in Pennsylvania were piss ant hoods compared to these guys. If you don't take them seriously, you'll wind up dead."
"Ok," Matt responded to his sire. He was surprised at the serious tone that Yashida had used, and it made him rather uneasy. He thought he actually saw fear in Johnny's eyes, a look that he had never seen in the lighthearted Telemon's expression ever before. Yashida had never taken anything seriously enough to let it scare him. "Holden, I want you to mount the minigun on the Hummer, and show Barry how to use it," Matt said as he turned to his childe and took control of the situation.
"Anything else?" Holden asked his sire. The ex-Navy SEAL was always ready to get in a fight, and was probably hoping that the clan would go out before the sun came up, looking to gun down a few of the Sabbat.
"No," Matt answered. "Although," he continued, "I'd like to know how Barry's progress is on the shooting range."
"He's not ready," Holden answered, not caring that Barry was in the room to hear the negative report. For three evenings Holden had had the newest member of the clan in the basement shooting range, firing about a thousand rounds a night. Unfortunately, Barry had not taken to shooting as well as he had to hand-held weapons. The childe might not even be ready in time to take part in the siege at all, Holden thought.
"How far from ready is he?" Matt asked, not bothering to hide his irritation. Barry began to shift his feet nervously when he heard Matt's tone, but knew there was no way around the situation. He had to admit even to himself that he was indeed bad with the pistols with which he had been training.
"He'll need at least a few more days," Holden answered noncommittally. "You can't rush this Matt, you know that." Holden understood Matt's disappointment, but he also knew that if they rushed Barry along and brought him into battle before he was ready, he could be as much a liability as an asset.
"Ok," Matt said with a sigh. "This is what we'll do. Tomorrow night, we'll leave Barry behind. I want to see just how good these Sabbat are," Matt continued as he glanced toward Barry, then turned back toward Holden. "After tomorrow, we might take him along." Matt seemed to ponder something for a few more seconds, then continued. "Johnny, could you give Barry a few more crash course lessons in self-defense? Tomorrow night would be best, since Holden and I probably won't be here."
"I'm busy tomorrow night," Yashida answered, not offering any more information. Matt looked his sire over suspiciously, but decided to not ask any questions. "I'll tell you what I'll do, though," Johnny continued. "I'll call in a few friends to help out with this siege. That way if Barry isn't ready in time, at least we'll have some extra guns."
"Who did you have in mind?" Matt asked, curious as to what connections his sire had made since they had parted company a year earlier.
"Let's just say you haven't met everyone in the clan," Johnny answered slyly. "There was a member of the clan who had parted company with Siras before State College. There have also been a few that have come along since you left."
"Are you going to call Marcus?" Matt asked excitedly. As Marcus had been responsible for Matt's combat training, it was generally accepted that he was even a better soldier than Matt was. In fact, back in Pennsylvania, where Marcus and Siras lived, the local kindred were terrified of Johnny's blood brother. That was the type of ally that Matt wanted in San Francisco.
"I'm not calling Marcus," Johnny answered, noting the immediately disappointed look on Matt's face. "I heard Siras has been having problems with garou, so he'll need my brother close. Don't worry though," he said with a grin, knowing Matt would like the help that he had in mind. "For now, though, Michelle and I have to get going."
"Where?" Matt asked suspiciously. It was not like Johnny to rush out onto streets that were crawling with the Sabbat, and Matt suspected that his sire had larcenous intentions.
"Michelle wanted to see the Cannery," Johnny answered. "Didn't you?" he asked, turning to Michelle.
"Oh, definitely," Michelle answered after a moment's hesitation, leading Matt to conclude that the two were certainly up to something else.
"Behave yourselves," Matt said as the two left the study. "I do have a reputation to uphold."
"Don't hassle it," Johnny yelled as he ran down the hall and slid down the polished banister. "It's all good!"
XI
Johnny Yashida and Michelle Marlowe sat at a small table outside the Steps of Rome coffeehouse, silently enjoying the serenity of the sleeping city. Johnny had found the comfortable shop a year earlier when he had been in San Francisco during the garou invasion. Although Michelle was incapable of ever again ingesting anything but blood, Johnny was still dependent on the same food sources that were common to mortals. Such was the way of his clan. In undeath, he had taken an even greater liking to coffee, a drink he had enjoyed while he had still been alive. He felt that his senses were somehow more acute since his transformation into a vampire, and that this enhanced his enjoyment of the cappuccino that he drank. Michelle just watched him sip his coffee, slightly sickened at the fact that Johnny still imbibed human food.
"Why do you insist on always drinking that stuff in front of me?" Michelle asked, looking up at the pitch black sky instead of her friend. "You know that makes me sick."
"Well, first of all, it's free," Johnny replied with a sidelong glance to the lock he had picked minutes earlier. "I guess you could say it's one of the perks of being a thief." He looked at Michelle for a moment, searching for a reaction to his joke. "You get it?" he asked. "The coffee is one of the perks." Michelle still did not respond, seeming lost in thought. Yashida immediately realized that he would have to confront one of his greatest fears – a serious conversation. He decided to sit in silence until Michelle felt like talking.
"Do you think it's really as bad as everyone says it is?" Michelle finally asked, noticing how strange her voice sounded in the stillness of the pre-dawn city.
"Probably," Johnny answered, his grave tone catching Michelle completely by surprise. "You should probably leave San Francisco."
"What?" Michelle asked, offended that Johnny would try to get her to leave while he obviously intended to stay. "I'm not leaving you here alone."
"I'll hardly be alone," Johnny answered. "Matt's here."
"Matt will be at the front of the battle," Michelle answered, pointing out the obvious. The last thing she wanted to think about was Johnny trying to perform as a more efficient killing machine than his military-trained childe. "You'll only succeed in getting yourself killed," she said angrily. "Is that what you want? Is immortality already getting boring for you?"
"It's my duty to stay," Johnny answered, trying his best to sound stoic. He noticed that his words did not seem to feel real as he spoke them. So many years ago, when he been mortal, he was an irresponsible, small-time thief. Joining clan Telemon had given him purpose, though, and a sense of duty was inherent in the blood – even he was helpless against the demands that his bloodline placed upon him. Though he knew that he would probably be killed in the siege, Johnny had decided to stay and fight alongside his clanmates. He owed them that much.
"There you go talking about duty again," Michelle answered, not bothering to hide her irritation. She hated when her friend got this way. When she had met him, Johnny Yashida had been the most alive of any vampire she had met in her short existence as one of the kindred. As the months went by, though, he started to become more and more responsible. Here in this city, unknown by the local police, Johnny seemed to be more unlikely to steal anything than he had been in Philadelphia when the police were actively seeking him out. Back then, he flaunted the law. Now he seemed to be looking for a way to fit in. "You're not the same person you used to be," Michelle stated finally, expressing the thoughts that had been on her mind for months. She hated to finally say the words, especially given the circumstances, but she could not hold back any longer.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Johnny asked, obviously offended, but not catching the full scope of what Michelle was saying.
"You're no fun anymore," Michelle answered. "I came to this city to steal a Faberge egg, and you said you'd come out here and help me do it. When we get out here, though, I find out that the only reason you agreed to come to San Francisco is that you knew there's a Sabbat siege, and you want to die alongside your childe."
"I didn't come here to die," Johnny answered, finally catching on to how serious the conversation actually was. "And I sure as hell didn't come here to fight, at least not if I can help it."
"So what are you here for?" Michelle asked, getting increasingly upset.
"I'm here to watch you finish off your apprenticeship," Johnny answered as he pushed his cappuccino aside and began to gaze into Michelle's eyes. "This is the last major heist that I'll be helping you with. After this, you'll be able to do them all on your own."
"You're going to be leaving me?" Michelle asked. Her expression was like she had just had her insides kicked out. While she felt that there were several problems in their relationship that needed to be resolved, she had not ever considered the possibility that her partner in crime would ever desert her.
"No," Johnny answered, immediately trying to reassure his friend. "I just got the impression that you didn't want me around much anymore. Lately you've been talking about completing your education and finding some good things to steal for yourself."
"Find them for myself, yes," Michelle answered, seeing the reason that Johnny had been more withdrawn recently. She realized Johnny had become unsure of his place in her life. "Knowing that I could get them by myself would be nice, too," she continued. "But actually lifting them all by myself would be no fun," she said with a smile. "It wouldn't be any fun if you weren't there to join me, enjoying spending the money that we steal."
"So when you said that you couldn't wait to be able to do this all on your own, you actually meant that you couldn't wait to be able to do it on your own, but actually have me with you?" Johnny asked, not seeing the point to whatever form of logic Michelle seemed to be employing.
"Exactly," Michelle answered with a relieved smile. She felt that they had worked out a great deal of their problems. Of course, there was still the concern of the Sabbat siege, but she decided to save the continuation of that argument for another time.
"And I thought women might get less complicated after they died," Johnny mumbled.
"I heard that," Michelle answered.
"Good," Johnny replied as he pulled out his cell-phone. As strange as it was, Michelle's assurance that she would still be hanging around made Johnny feel a hundred times better. If there were to be a war, the clan would need money. He would be the person that would have to fund clan Telemon's battle against the Sabbat, so he would have to get busy planning a few jobs. First, though, he would have to bring in reinforcements.
"Who're you calling?" Michelle asked.
"One of my childer," Johnny answered. "I think we're going to soon come into possession of something he'd want."
"So?" Michelle asked.
"That means we'll be able to afford his services," Johnny answered. "His talent isn't cheap."
Johnny dialed the number and waited for a few moments before there was an answer. "Da? Hello?" came the voice on the other end of the line, speaking in a fairly light Russian accent.
"Dmitri," Johnny answered. "Before you say anything, I just want you to know that I'm on a cell-phone."
"Accursed things," Dmitri answered, making the mental note that the conversation could be monitored, and that he would have to watch what he said. "You should know better than to do that, I hate having to censor myself. What do you want?"
"I may be able to acquire a couple of Faberge eggs," Johnny answered. "I've located someone who will sell at an extremely competitive price. Are you interested?" Dmitri smiled on the other end of the line, knowing that his sire's words meant that he would soon be stealing a couple of Faberge eggs.
"Da," Dmitri replied. "What do I need to do to get them?"
"Come to San Francisco," Johnny answered. "Make your arrangements and call me back when you know when you'll be coming in, I'll pick you up at the airport."
"It must be important to offer two eggs," Dmitri commented, his voice betraying his concern over what he would be getting himself into.
"The Sabbat is laying siege," Johnny answered. "One of my other childer is a primogen out here, and he's gonna need our help if he expects to hold his position."
"I'm on my way," Dmitri answered. The Russian knew the Sabbat well, and was well aware of the violence and destruction that would be associated with a siege. He wanted to help his clan, but he also had other motives for going to San Francisco to fight the Sabbat. He wanted revenge for what they had done to his home city of New York.
"I assume you'll be leaving from JFK, right?" Johnny asked.
"I usually do," Dmitri answered.
"There'll be some other people getting in touch with you," Johnny added, referring to Marcus' childer. "I'll try to get them to meet you at JFK and you can all fly out together."
"Da, I'll be in touch," Dmitri answered.
Johnny hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket, grinning widely at Michelle. "Dmitri was my second childe," Johnny said. "I think you're going to really like him."
Michelle smiled in response, then looked up at the sky. "I think it's time to go to get down to the Cannery to stake that place out, and then rush ourselves home," she said. "Only a few hours of dark left, and we won't want to be late."
"Yeah, Matt might start to get worried about what we've stolen," Johnny commented. "We shouldn't make him wait up."
"I don't want to go to Matt's tonight," Michelle commented with a grin. "Let's go somewhere we can be alone," she said as she slid seductively out of the chair and to her feet, sashaying over to Caitlin's Mercedes.
"Just tell me where you want to go," Johnny said enthusiastically as he jumped behind the wheel of his Mitsubishi, planning to follow Michelle's lead. Within moments, both kindred had abandoned their plans of casing out their target and headed instead for the Lombard Plaza Motel.
CHAPTER 3
I
Caitlin sat at her desk, looking through the various articles that had been handed in during the course of the past few days. She could not shake the feeling that something was very wrong in the city. The night before, she had been rushed out of Julian's mansion without so much as a hug, and she was driven back to her home at breakneck speed in Matt's Humvee. To make matters worse, she still had not seen her car since the night before. The man that Julian had drive the Mercedes back to her home apparently wanted some time with the automobile before he gave it back.
"Good evening, Ms. Byrne," a voice said from her doorway. Caitlin nearly jumped out of her skin, having not even noticed that the glass door to her office had been opened. She settled her gaze on the casually dressed couple standing in front of her. The man was dressed in black jeans and a white dress shirt under a black leather biker jacket. The woman with him wore black jeans as well, along with a black body suit underneath. A dark blue sweater covered her bare shoulders. The dark clothing caused her pale skin and bright red hair to evoke an almost ghostlike quality.
"Who are you?" Caitlin asked her two guests.
"My name is Jason Hatcher," the man responded smoothly. "This is my associate, Ms. Sandra O'Malley," he added, gesturing to his Tremere comrade.
"How did you get in here?" Caitlin asked. "It's after hours."
"The guard downstairs was very understanding of our predicament," Jason said. "We are both very busy during the day, and can only meet with you at night."
"Meet with me about what?" Caitlin asked, becoming more and more uncomfortable with the situation. Despite the fact that a couple of her reporters were still in the main office, in plain view, she felt as if she were alone with her two visitors. She felt strangely vulnerable in her own office.
"We have a few facts about your boss, Julian Luna," Jason said. "We thought you'd like to hear about the kind of business that he does in this city."
"What do you mean?" Caitlin asked curiously. She remembered having investigated Julian herself, and had not found too much of note.
"We could tell you all of this, and even produce pictures for you to publish," Jason said, "but I don't think that would have the desired effect."
"What exactly is the desired effect?" Caitlin asked.
"I have read many of your pieces, Ms. Byrne," Jason responded with a thin smile. "I have always found that your writing has been best when you have your heart into the story. The desired effect is to have you completely committed to printing this story, to exposing Julian Luna for the murderer that he is."
Caitlin's jaw almost hit the floor with Jason's words. She had long suspected that Julian was involved in activities that were outside the scope of the law, but she had never heard him referred to as a murderer. Indeed, no one had ever even dared to challenge Julian's position in any way before. Despite the fact that she fought to doubt Jason's words, she had a gnawing feeling in her gut. Caitlin had to see what they were talking about. She had to know for sure.
"What did you have in mind?" Caitlin asked.
"We have recently discovered that there is a small gang in the city that is challenging Mr. Luna's control of the drug trade," Jason replied slowly, measuring the effect of his words on Caitlin. "Mr. Luna has apparently decided to get a group of his cohorts together to eradicate this threat to his illicit business." Though his features displayed no emotion, Jason was almost glowing inside. He loved to manipulate mortals into following his every whim, and getting Caitlin to agree with his wishes was easier than he had expected it would be. Despite the relationship she was rumored to have with the prince of the city, she was still obviously suspicious of his past, as well as of his current situation.
"We wish to show you the action as it happens," Sandra cut in. She knew that her Lasombra companion would not be too happy with the interruption, but time was a factor. They were to have Caitlin on the rooftop across the street from the Haven at midnight. The whole plan would be ruined if they arrived late.
"Where?" Caitlin asked.
"Just come with us," Jason replied, slowly starting to move toward the door. "We will take you there."
"Ok," Caitlin replied, as she grabbed her coat from the rack in the corner. Even as she joined her two mysterious visitors, she hoped that they were wrong, that Julian was not the criminal that deep in her heart she was sure he was.
II
Inside the Haven, Julian looked over Cameron, Matt, and Cash. Each of the primogen had members of their clans waiting outside for the prince to lead around town, searching for the rogue kindred that constituted the Sabbat. They all knew that it was actually fairly unlikely that they would find any of the encroaching vampires unless they wanted to be found, but they had to do something. Julian's greatest hope was they could keep the Sabbat's soldiers thinned enough so that when the other clans found the Sabbat lair, Julian's forces would not be wiped out in the assault.
"Is everything ready?" the prince asked Matt Reimer.
"As ready as it will ever be," the primogen of the Telemon clan responded.
As Julian began to move toward the exit, Cash motioned for a couple of his clanmates to move in front of the prince. It was obvious that the Gangrel primogen was taking no chances with the prince's security, even in one of the safest places for him to be in the entire city.
As the group walked outside, Matt noticed a van parked across the street. As soon as Julian walked out onto the street, the back door of the van opened, and four of the victims from the Sabbat's blood feast started to move toward Julian. Matt recognized the group of people as a possible threat, though he was not able to tell for sure whether or not they were vampires. Cash, however, was capable of reading the auras of individuals, and saw the threat immediately. He drew his Glock and opened up on the four approaching vampires.
Before anyone could tell what happened, a second van came screeching around the corner and stopped in front of Julian. The side door of the van opened, and Molochai tore into the group of Camarilla vampires with an AK-47. Of the group that had come out of the Haven, only Cameron was able to duck to safety. Matt, Julian, Cash, and the Gangrel bodyguards were all cut down. In a single motion, Molochai pulled the spent clip from his weapon and reloaded, but was knocked back into the van by a shotgun blast before he could shoot the collected primogen again. Rayce winked at Cameron as he came out from the Haven, firing his shotgun repeatedly at the Sabbat attackers. Cameron was, as always, duly impressed by the skill of his second-in-command.
Julian struggled to his feet and drew two .45 automatics, and started firing at the driver of the van. Marie hardly felt the bullets as they ripped through her body, the damage being extensive enough to send her immediately into torpor. No sooner had Julian and his people recovered than the Sabbat began to press harder. Jonas led three members of his pack around the corner and into the fight, augmenting the throwaway shock troops they had embraced the night before. Jessica, Linus, and Action Jackson all opened up on the primogen with MAC-10's, turning the kindred and everything around them into Swiss cheese.
From the rooftop across the street, Caitlin looked on with horror as her employer was cut down by the gunfire. She saw the pool of blood that had collected under Julian, and was held in complete shock. It was beyond her ability to process the fact that her lover had been killed right in front of her eyes. Suddenly, though, Julian began to stir. Then he quickly stood up and began firing once again at his attackers, causing Linus to fall and Action Jackson to retreat. An aura of power seemed to form around the prince, and his anger rolled off across the pavement along with the bullets he fired with deadly accuracy.
"What the hell is going on down there?" Caitlin asked in disbelief.
"It will all be explained to you in good time, Ms. Byrne," Jason replied. "For now, though, keep watching. This is the kind of story that comes along only once in a lifetime."
She watched the violence continue below her, all the while trying to distance herself from the brutality of the participants. She saw a pair of headlights light up at the end of the street, and then realized that Matt's Humvee was approaching the battle. Holden locked up the wheels, bringing the vehicle to a screeching stop, and then jumped up to man the minigun. The newly embraced Sabbat never knew what hit them. The machine gun fire from the minigun, at almost point blank range, left the newest of the Sabbat recruits little more than shredded pieces of meat. He then turned the weapon toward Molochai's van, but was too late in taking aim. Before Holden could fire, he was knocked back into the vehicle by fire from Action Jackson, who was running at the Humvee. He was, in turn, also knocked from his feet by a shot from the sniper rifle that Carter had set up a block away. The Brujah cursed himself for being a few minutes late in arriving. He was supposed to have been set up to cover the departure of the prince from the Haven. No doubt Rayce would have something to say about his failure to be prepared.
Just when things seemed hopeless, four cars came roaring down the street and came to a stop outside of the Haven. Several of Cameron's Brujah, led by Mark and Sasha, began to fire at the Sabbat with shotguns and 9mm pistols.
Chuck realized almost immediately that the best course of action would be to retreat. They had most likely killed one or two of the Gangrel, and had lost only their newest vampires. Those were very acceptable losses. "Alright everyone, get the hell out of here!" he yelled. He grabbed two Mac-10's and started firing at the Brujah in order to give his packmates some cover. Sasha was wounded badly, but in her rage she ran off on foot after the van that was now speeding down the street, away from the Brujah retaliation. As they raced away, Chuck opened the back door and shot Sasha again with a shotgun, and she was dropped to the ground, forced to give up her pursuit.
Order was restored outside the Haven almost as quickly as it had been lost. Several cars pulled up in front of the club, and the wounded and dead kindred were piled in the back seats even as the sound of approaching police sirens grew louder.
On the rooftop above, Caitlin continued to look down at the site where the gunfight had taken place. Though Julian and almost every one of his cohorts had been shot several times, they all got up and continued to fight. She knew they were not wearing bulletproof vests, because they had all been bleeding. She could not believe what she had just seen, and simply stood there, speechless.
"I presume you now believe us, Ms. Byrne?" Jason asked.
"What the hell just happened down there?" Caitlin asked in a whisper. "What the hell are they?"
"Perhaps I forgot to mention, Ms. Byrne, but Julian Luna and all of his business associates are vampires," Jason said without any hesitation. Caitlin noticed the nonchalance with which Jason had revealed Julian's true nature, as if it was not even all that important an issue.
"A vampire?" Caitlin asked. Though she refused to believe that Julian was a vampire, her rational side kept pointing out that this would explain a great many things.
"Yeah, Caitlin," came another voice from behind the three. "He's a Pepper, I'm a Pepper. You want to be a Pepper too?"
Caitlin turned to see a large man with close-cropped hair, wearing sweatpants and a white tank-top. "Who are you?" Caitlin asked, suddenly extremely unnerved. Jason and Sandra did not seem at all perturbed by the arrival of this fourth individual.
"My name is Mac," the man answered. "I'm Mac the pyromaniac," he continued, now putting his name to the tune of the Lego-maniac commercial. "Mac, Mac, he's a pyromaniac."
Caitlin suddenly seemed to feel disconnected from herself, as if she was no longer an actual participant in the events of the night, but rather a third party that had come across this group and watched them without any interest in the outcome of their actions. She looked at the three people with her – Sandra, Jason, and Mac – and suddenly felt very threatened. Before she could scream out, though, Mac had rushed toward her and smacked her over the head with a sap, knocking her unconscious.
III
Sasha managed to struggle into the alley before the cops arrived, hiding behind a dumpster as several police cruisers raced past toward the Haven, only two blocks away. She knew that eventually the police would search in her direction, so she would have to get moving as quickly as possible. Sasha began to stack a few crates to help her get over the ten foot fence at the end of the alley, but had a lot of trouble lifting them, as her wounds had not fully mended. She had three bullet holes in her right shoulder, but they were mostly healed. The greatest problem was the shotgun wound in her abdomen. She had used up so much of her blood repairing the less severe shoulder wounds that she was now forced to almost hold her entrails in her body as she worked.
"Do you need some help?" a young voice asked from behind her.
Sasha whirled, drawing her .357 Magnum as she turned. She immediately saw a girl that appeared to be twelve or thirteen years old, with dirty blonde hair, bordering on brunette, wearing a school cheerleader uniform. "Who are you?" Sasha asked, leaning against a wall to help steady herself.
"I'm Jenni," the girl answered. "I saw what happened. I can help you." The girl approached, and Sasha started to move back, knowing that her wounds had caused her to grow very hungry. She did not want to kill this girl for her blood. As Jenni got closer, however, Sasha felt no hunger. When Jenni touched Sasha to help hold her up, Sasha realized that the young girl's skin was no warmer than the surrounding air. She was a kindred, just as Sasha was.
"What the hell?" Sasha asked. "You're not alive."
"I don't think so," Jenni responded. "Those guys in the vans did something to me."
"They embraced you?" Sasha asked, enraged that the even the Sabbat would stoop low enough to embrace a child into their ranks.
"I don't know what they did," Jenni answered. "I was going home from my friend's house, and a couple of guys jumped me. I wound up in en empty room, and there were all these people around." Jenni stopped and closed her eyes, as if she was trying to remember something from the distant past. "I think they drank my blood."
"Goddamn monsters," Sasha muttered. "I'll take care of you, Jenni. You just have to help me get home. Can you help me stack these crates up so we can get over this fence?"
The young girl nodded her head and began to stack the crates. Within a couple of minutes the two were fleeing down the alley on the far side of the fence toward the street beyond. Sasha planned to get a cab to the Pierce Street Annex. There she would be able to hook up with the rest of the Brujah, and they would help her feed so she could heal. Then she would be able to help Jenni. She would make the Sabbat pay for what they did to her newest friend.
IV
In the basement of the Telemon compound, Barry continued to fire at the targets on the range. He wanted to get his shooting accuracy to acceptable levels as soon as possible, so that he would be able to go in the mock-combat range, with moving targets. He had never known that using such a simple machine could be so difficult. He fired straight through a clip in the Glock 10mm, changed clips, and fired straight through again. The young Telemon put the weapon down, and pushed the button to bring the target back to him, so he could see how well he had done. Even before the target was within reach, he was satisfied with his results. Seventy-five percent of his shots were lethal hits, and all of the others hit somewhere on the target. When Matt returned home, he would probably allow Barry to move up to the next target range.
"Ah, yes, a satisfactory performance," a low voice commented from behind him. Barry whirled and found himself confronted by a man standing at least six and a half feet tall. His width indicated that he was heavily muscled, but Barry was unable to tell for sure. The man's entire body was concealed under a heavy cloak.
"Who are you?" Barry questioned aggressively. "I don't think you're supposed to be here."
"I think Mr. Reimer would probably agree with your conclusion," the man responded. "It's too bad that he is not here to have his opinion heard." The man took a step forward, and Barry drew the survival knife that he had on his belt.
"Stay back, man," he warned. "I'm a lot better with this than I am with that pistol, and you saw how I did with that."
"Put the knife down, neonate," the man answered. "I don't have time for this. If you don't resist, I promise I'll make your death rather painless. If you insist on this foolish show of resistance, it will only cause you to get hurt."
Barry's only response was to lunge at the intruder. The man simply caught Barry's arm at the wrist, and squeezed until the radius and ulna in Barry's wrist broke. He then punched the neonate in the head, fracturing his skull. Before Barry could react, he found his right knee shattered under the force of a kick from his opponent. Before his body had even hit the ground, Barry's sternum had been caved in by a strike in the chest. The young Telemon hit the floor completely incapacitated, and looked at his large attacker hovering over him.
"As you can see, Mr. Logan, I am not some drug dealer in an alley," the man commented. Barry's eyes went wide with surprise as he wondered what else this man knew about him.
In one last desperate attempt at survival, Barry kicked the man as hard as he could in his knee, hoping to knock his attacker down. If he could take the leg out from under him, Barry may have been able to get to the Glock lying on the counter just a few feet away. Although the kick landed solidly, the man was unaffected.
"You still have some fight left in you, eh?" the man asked. "It's rare enough for the young kindred to have as much heart as you do, Barry. I really regret that I have to do this. I don't think you can possibly understand how much." Barry still looked up at his attacker, desperately trying to think of some way to get out of the situation. "This is for the greater good, however. Look at it this way – your death gives your grandsire a chance to prove himself to me. That's pleasing to you, isn't it?"
Without another word, the man hunched over Barry and ripped into his jugular vein with his fangs. He drained every last drop of the young Telemon's blood, and then took his life essence as well, diablerizing his victim. The man stood up, took out an envelope and dropped it next to the body. He knew that the letter would enrage Matt enough to have him launch his own personal vendetta against the Sabbat, regardless of any restrictions Julian would try to put on his enforcer. As he left, the visitor grinned at the thought of the letter inside the envelope – "Potent blood, now the Sabbat is stronger."
V
Lillie paced back and forth behind the bar in her club. The attack outside had caused the police to close her business down for the night, and she had lost a lot of money. Even more importantly, though, she had been forced to allow policemen to look through her club for any sign of contraband. Someone had gotten it in his head that her club may have been the headquarters of some terrible drug cartel.
Shane walked into the dimly lit club, apparently unaware of his blood sister's presence. Lillie grinned with pleasure – this was the moment she had been waiting for. She had wondered how the Sabbat could possibly have known that the primogen would be meeting at her club that night, and it had occurred to her that she had mentioned the meeting to her brother. Now she had to find out for sure whether he was involved with the packs that had laid siege to her home.
"You're getting in a little later than usual," Lillie commented. He actually was not, she thought to herself, but she wanted to put her brother off balance. The fact that it was still only about two in the morning was irrelevant.
"I didn't realize," Shane answered. "I heard there was some excitement here tonight."
"You could say that," Lillie replied, slinking her way from behind the bar. "Where were you?"
"Out and about," Shane replied, leaning back against the wall. Lillie looked her fellow Toreador over, searching for any signs of uneasiness, but found none. She finally decided that if he had indeed been with the Sabbat, he did not seem concerned about any suspicions that she had of it.
"Where?" Lillie pried, walking even closer to her brother.
"I don't remember for sure," Shane answered, seeming to become irritated. "What are you, my mom now?"
"Oh, hardly," Lillie purred as she got within arm's reach, running the back of her hand along Shane's cheek. "I was just wondering who else was taking up your time."
"It's nothing like that," Shane replied as he took a step away from the wall, pulling Lillie closer to him.
"What exactly is it like?" Lillie asked. Shane's face suddenly went white as he felt the prick of Lillie's nail pierce into his neck. He rolled his eyes down do her hands, and saw that she had grown them both into claws. He looked back at her face, and saw murderous rage in her eyes. "So, you're making time with the Sabbat now, Shane?" She grabbed his throat in her left claw and threw her brother to the floor, straddling him and putting the right claw right in front of his face. "Answer me, or I'll rip your Goddamn head off, you traitor."
"You already know the answer," Shane replied without moving a muscle. "You've always known, you just chose to ignore it."
"You bastard," she snarled at him, seething through clenched teeth. "I gave you everything. When I became primogen here in San Francisco, I welcomed you into my city and endorsed every project you ever did. Now you stab me in the back by joining my enemies."
"They don't have to be your enemies," Shane responded, the fear evident in his voice. "You have every right to join the Sabbat. You would be powerful in the Sabbat, Lillie. The primogen who go over are always given positions of power in the new regime. You could be a bishop, or maybe one day even an archbishop."
"I already have power, I don't need to join you," she spat back at him.
"You won't have power for long, Lillie," Shane responded calmly, regaining his composure. "Julian is weak, and the Sabbat will take this city. You'll be killed."
"So will you," she replied, her voice disturbingly calm.
"You can't kill me Lillie, not after all these years," Shane said. A moment later he rolled quickly, throwing her off of him. "Think about my offer, Lillie."
"I'll tell Julian about you, Shane. He'll kill you," Lillie shouted to her blood-brother as he walked toward the door. Shane stopped dead in his tracks and turned around.
"You won't do that, Lillie," Shane replied evenly. "First of all, Julian would have to find me, and that won't happen any time this century. Secondly, if he gets a hold of me, I'll tell him about you."
"What are you talking about?" Lillie asked, now seeming quite upset.
"Think about it, Lillie," Shane replied, his voice seeming to taunt her lack of consideration of the situation. "Your blood-brother is a member of the Sabbat. If Julian looks into your past at all, he'll find that our sire was Toreador antitribu, a member of the Sabbat. Then he'll discover that your own childe is also a member of the Sabbat, and helped to try to assassinate Matt. After all that, you think he's going to believe that you're not involved with us?"
"My childe is in the Sabbat?" Lillie asked, collapsing to her knees with the shock of the news. "You took Travis into the Sabbat?"
"Of course," Shane replied. "It's in the blood, Lillie. It's not like it took much convincing. In time, you'll join us, too."
"No, I won't," Lillie said, not hearing the conviction in her voice that she tried so hard to project.
"If you value your secrets, Lillie, you'd better play ball," Shane said as he started to back toward the steps.
"What do you mean?" Lillie asked.
"When we want information, you'd better give it to us," Shane answered with a grin. "Otherwise, it's final death for you and your childe." Shane turned suddenly and raced up the stairs and out into the night air. He smiled, satisfied that he had done his part in beginning to direct Lillie toward joining the Sabbat. Soon she would be in so deep that she would have no choice but to turn against her prince.
VI
Caitlin came to her senses and tried to look around her. All that she could initially be sure of was that she was lying on her back, and she was outside. The clouds floating in the sky above told her that much. She turned her head to the side and grimaced with the pain. It was then that she remembered being attacked by the large man with the sap. She tried to call out, but found that she did not have the strength to take a deep enough breath to power her yell.
She heard movement next to her, and saw Jason come to stand next to her. "Ms. Byrne, we were hoping you would wake up pretty soon," he said. His expression projected none of the cheeriness that his voice seemed to convey.
"Where am I?" Caitlin managed to ask. With every passing moment, she felt more and more of her strength return.
"That's not important right now," Jason responded. "What is important is what you discovered about Julian. Did you know he was a vampire?"
At the mention of Julian, the full horror of the night came flooding over Caitlin – the shooting, the blood, the dead bodies. No, she thought suddenly, there were no dead bodies. All of the dead people got back up and kept fighting. It was impossible, but she had seen it with her own eyes.
"All this time, Caitlin, your lover has kept the truth from you," Jason said. "How does that make you feel?"
Caitlin heard Jason's words, but refused to ponder them. She refused to be made a puppet of this man who was obviously an enemy of Julian's. She needed to find a way to escape, but she had no idea how to go about it. She rolled her head in the other direction, away from Jason, and gasped when she realized that they had taken her to a cemetery.
"Did you know, Ms. Byrne, that Julian has even fed on you?" Jason continued. His voice was cold, mocking her with every word. His tone seemed to convey its own message to her – how could she have not seen Julian for what he was? How could a professional reporter be so blind to the truth?
"Julian never even cared about you, did you know that?" Jason asked, his tone continuing to cut into her. "He only became your lover so that he could control you. He wished to use you to cover up his violent control of the city." The Lasombra looked down at Caitlin, feeling pleasure in the emotional turmoil he was causing her. Caitlin was the worst type of human that could exist, he thought – one of the ones that had all the evidence of vampires in front of them, but who was too stupid to put the pieces together. Hell, she had even slept with a vampire several times, and never even noticed that his skin was not warm enough, or that his heart did not beat. He smiled as another thought came into his head – she could not have been all that great a lover to have not noticed details like the lack of a heartbeat in her partner.
"Caitlin," he continued, "I can only imagine how you must feel, but believe it or not, I am here to help you." Caitlin turned her head back toward the Lasombra, looking him over from head to toe, searching for any indication of compassion that would lead her to believe that he was sincere. She found no such sign. "I wish to give you the opportunity to avenge yourself on Julian Luna. You can repay him for all of the pain that he has caused you, that he has caused to every woman he has seduced."
Caitlin heard another person step toward her, and looked straight up to see Mac standing over her. He was smiling widely, and knelt down next to her. "You will get revenge," he whispered into her ear as he moved his lips next to her face. She could smell his salty breath, scented with the blood of a young girl he had killed only moments earlier. "Revenge on Luna," he whispered, moving his lips to her throat. A moment later, Caitlin was overcome with a feeling of ecstasy.
Mac drank Caitlin's blood fully, enjoying the energy that he could feel in every sip. Caitlin bent her head back, allowing Mac greater access to her throat, making it all that much easier to drain her life's blood from her body. Her mind swam in a feeling of bliss. She felt completely disconnected from herself for the second time that night. This time, however, she longed to climb back into her body, to experience this pleasure more fully. Then, suddenly, it was all gone.
Caitlin gasped for air, only now fully realizing that she had been attacked, that her blood had been drained from her body. Her muscles grew cold, and her neck grew hot. Everything she saw began to blur, and she felt her life slipping away from her. Once again, she saw Julian, welcoming her to the Haven to give her that first interview. She saw him carrying her groceries into the house as he offered her the position of editor. She saw him grab her in the throes of passion at Manzanita. Then she saw him die, shot down by street thugs. He had survived, though, and got up. He gunned down his attackers, even as his own wounds healed right in front of her eyes.
"You will avenge yourself on Julian Luna," she heard a voice whisper in her ear. She felt the strength of another's will impose itself on her mind. She would not gain vengeance, though. She knew that much. Her strength was fading too rapidly for that to ever be an option. She would like to hurt Julian, she would like to punish him. She felt the urge to inflict great pain on her lover. He had lied to her. He had fed on her. He had used her to manipulate her readers. He had made her love him so that he could make a plaything out of her. She would not have vengeance. Instead, she would die.
As everything went black, she felt life on her lips. Warmth, sweetness, she felt the blood of one of her tormentors. She tasted the blood, and then drank it. She leaned forward, trying to drink more, but its source moved away. She opened her eyes and saw the tombstones around her. She was killed in this place of death, yet she still lived. Vampires, she thought -- they're all vampires. She leaned back and felt the strange sensation of her new unlife. I am a vampire, she realized. I am like Julian.
She felt herself be lifted and moved a few feet, and she was then dropped. Caitlin did not seem to notice the pain that should have accompanied the throw into the open grave. She stirred slowly, looking around her again. She was certainly in a grave, though it was somewhat shallow. She lay only about four feet below the surface. As she went to stand up, she was thrown back down by the weight of a hundred pounds of earth, dumped out of a wheelbarrow onto her body. Another quickly followed, then another. She fought to regain her senses. Something about this was very wrong.
Caitlin could hear a faint giggling above her, and felt something wet splash down on her. Out of force of habit, not yet used to the fact that she did not need to breathe any longer, she inhaled. It was then that she smelled the gasoline. She felt more liquid poured on her, and looked up. Though her body was already mostly buried, her face was still exposed. She saw Mac stand over her, now holding a lit match. He dropped it into the grave, and Caitlin was immediately assaulted by the heat of the fire. She could smell her hair burn away in the assault of the flames, she could feel her eyebrows become singed off of her face. Then, suddenly, her head was covered with earth. Caitlin was safe from the fire, now burning on the surface of the dirt above her body, but she was now buried alive.
Caitlin realized that she would not need to breathe. She may not even need to eat. The realization came upon her that she could be left there in the earth forever. No one would ever find her. She used all of the air left in her lungs to scream, but when that was gone, she was left in total silence. A moment later, she heard more dirt being added to the top of her tomb, and then nothing else. For a few moments more, Caitlin lay in the earth, not realizing that this was really happening to her. She tried to move, but could not.
She felt a worm move next to her cheek, slowly burrowing through the dirt that now encased her. She tried to move away, but could not. When the dirt had covered her, she had been thankful. It had saved her from the fire. Now, however, Caitlin wanted the fire back. The fire had offered her safety from this prison of earth. She longed for the fire. Then she thought of Julian. She wanted Julian as well. She wanted him to join her in this grave. She wanted him to feel the fire.
It was in that moment that Caitlin's sanity became lost to her mind. She longed for both the safety of the fire, and the suffering of Julian. She wanted the fire to protect her from Julian. Caitlin struggled to move her arm, only to fail. She needed to see Julian in the flames. She needed to punish him, but she also needed to make him understand. He needed to know that only fire was able to protect the women of his life from him. Caitlin would teach Julian Luna that valuable lesson. She would watch him burn.
Caitlin tried again to move her arm, but once more had no success. She began to panic. She needed to escape this grave – she was not dead yet. She tried to kick, but realized that she was not strong enough. She needed to be stronger. In the movies, vampires had always been stronger than mortals. She needed to find that strength. It needed to be in her somewhere. She reached deep down inside her, and willed herself to become stronger. She felt her hand move. She kept willing herself stronger – her leg moved. She cupped her hand and started to try to swim through the dirt, as the worm next to her was doing. Her whole body moved. Caitlin began to move the dirt slowly out of her way. Her hand reached up, and her legs moved below her. She pushed up with all her might, and broke through the surface of the dirt. She was in the night air – free.
"I knew you would make it out of there," Jason commented to her. "You are the childe of Mac, Caitlin. Go to him." Jason motioned across the graveyard to Mac, who was standing, staring at the moon.
He saw her approach, and bolted across the cemetery toward her. "Do you understand?" he asked, grasping her tightly.
"Fire is our life," she mumbled, her eyes staring madly at the stars above. The stars are made of fire, she thought -- big spheres of fire, burning for all eternity. They provided life for humanity, and humanity provided life to the vampires. "Fire is what makes us strong."
"You understand," Mac said with a wide smile. "What will you do with the fire, Caitlin? It serves you now, like it serves me."
"I will show my lover the truth of the universe," Caitlin muttered. "Life comes from the fire. Safety is to be found in the fire."
"Indeed," Mac said. "You are truly Malkavian," Mac said, referring to the clan that he was a part of. "You have been gifted with the wisdom of the mad."
"I'm hungry," Caitlin responded, leering toward a young woman she saw tied up where Mac had been standing.
"Then let us teach you to feed," Mac responded. "You should learn to kill."
VII
An hour later across town, outside the Haven, Frank and Sonny scoured the area for any clue that might indicate where the Sabbat was hiding. The forensics team had already gathered up all the shell casings. The skid marks from the tires had been measured and sampled, but they both hoped that their comrades in the police department had missed some vital piece of information. They needed to be able to find the Sabbat sanctuary and strike at them there. If they could not find where the Sabbat were hiding, they would lose this war.
Frank walked up the street and down the same alley that Sasha had hidden in earlier in the night. He found the bloodstains that had flowed from Sasha's wounds, and started to examine them, hoping that he had found a clue from one of the fleeing Sabbat. "Sonny, what do you make of this?" he asked his partner.
Sonny walked around the corner into the alley and bent over the same bloodstain. "Could be from one of ours," Sonny commented. "I heard Sash ran away down some alley on foot."
"Maybe you're right," Frank replied. He was pushing himself too hard to find the answers, he knew that. He wanted so much to contribute immediately to the welfare of his clan.
"Oh, look what I found," a third voice said from the top of the fence at the end of the alley. "Two Ventrue cops." Frank and Sonny both looked up quickly, seeing Jonas sitting on the top of the fence, leering at the both of them. "What do you think we should do with them?" he asked.
Frank and Sonny both drew their guns, but were shot down from behind by Action Jackson, who was firing two MAC-10's at the detectives.
"You think we'd just leave our pack leader out in the open without any protection?" Linus asked as he climbed over the fence, jumping down next to the two Ventrue. Both Sonny and Frank continued to lay on the ground, using their blood to heal their wounds so that they could fight their way out of the alley. The Sabbat all seemed unaware of the fact that Sonny and Frank would be able to fight again within moments.
"I know these two," a familiar female voice said, rounding the corner. Frank and Sonny looked up to see Caitlin join the Sabbat in the alley.
"Caitlin, get out of here," Sonny yelled. He shot up to his feet and fired at Action Jackson, putting four bullets in the vampire before he could respond. Frank also rose to his feet, knocking Jonas off of the fence with three shots, and putting Linus off balance with another. Sonny ran over to Caitlin, grabbing her by the arm so that he could lead her to safety. When he felt her skin, though, he looked up in horror. He realized immediately that Caitlin was no longer mortal, that she had been embraced by the Sabbat. Any question of her loyalties was immediately put to rest when he felt a knife slide into his chest, between his ribs and into his heart.
Frank looked down the alley in shock, unable to believe that Julian's lover had turned against the prince's childe. He had to escape, though. He could worry later about the situation with Caitlin. He ran down the alley as quickly as he could, using his vampire blood to speed his movements somewhat. He fired twice at Caitlin, shooting out each of her kneecaps and putting her on the ground. A moment later he had a hold of Sonny, and was lifting his sire onto his shoulder. Before he could finish lifting him, however, he was knocked back by the force of a shotgun blast. He looked up to see Sue, a Nosferatu antitribu who was a member of Jonas' pack, standing over him, leveling a shotgun for another attack.
Frank raised his pistol at the new opponent, but was shot down from behind by Linus, who had recovered fully from Frank's earlier assault. The Panders approached Frank with a grin, then took out his own knife, and staked Kohaneck with it.
"To repeat my question, what do you think we should do with them?" Jonas asked as he once again climbed over the fence.
"I have an idea," Caitlin answered, a flicker of her insanity racing across her eye.
"Of course you do," Jonas answered with a grin.
"Let's just diablerize them," Linus suggested. "Their blood is probably more potent than ours. We can gain their strength."
"Not with these two," Linus answered with a grin. "We'll let Luna's childe go. We need someone to tell the prince that his lover is now a member of the Sabbat. As for Kohaneck," he continued, turning to Caitlin, "what exactly did you have in mind, my dear?"
VIII
Johnny and Michelle pulled up to the gate of the Telemon compound in Johnny's 3000GT, both laughing as Johnny pushed the button to the intercom.
"Who is it?" came Holden's voice.
"Johnny," Yashida answered.
"Are you alone?" Holden asked.
"No, Michelle's with me," Johnny answered.
"Anyone else?"
"No. Why the third degree?" The whole routine seemed a little unusual. The night before the gate had not even been closed, and now he had to answer a slew of questions to gain entrance into his own childe's home.
"Get up here as quickly as possible," Holden answered. "Keep your eyes open." The gates opened and Johnny floored the gas, racing up the drive to the mansion. He screeched to a stop in front of the building, noticing immediately that there were three guards at the door, and one at each of the two gun turrets on the roof.
Johnny hopped out of the car and walked quickly to the door, where he was stopped momentarily by one of the guards. "Go right in," he said in a rather tense voice. "Matt's in the basement. He wants to see you."
The tone of the guard's voice let Johnny know that something was indeed seriously wrong, and he raced through the house and down the stairs into the basement. Michelle was not far behind. When they reached the basement, they found Matt sitting in a chair, staring blankly at a piece of paper. Streaks of blood were running from his eyes, down his cheeks, and Barry's body was lying at his feet.
"Matt, are you ok?" Johnny asked, cautiously approaching his childe. Matt looked up at him, slowly seeming to realize who was talking to him.
"Where the hell were you?" he suddenly yelled at Yashida. "I wanted you to be here, but you had some ultra-important task to perform. You were probably out stealing something, weren't you?"
"What happened?" Johnny asked. He felt it was safe to assume that someone had entered the compound and killed Barry, but he wanted to know for sure. He needed details.
"See for yourself," Matt yelled back, shoving the paper into Johnny's hand. "The Sabbat came in and diablerized him." Johnny read the note, then dropped it to the floor as he looked around the basement.
"I don't think- "
"Shut up!" Matt screamed at him. "I don't care what you think. Get the fuck out of here, you irresponsible bastard. Barry is dead because you'd rather have fun than take responsibility." Michelle was being made incredibly uncomfortable by the confrontation, but she had to know exactly what was going on. She slowly shuffled her feet up to the note, picked it up, and read it. Her eyes went wide with surprise when she realized what had happened.
"Matt..." Johnny began, only to be cut once again.
"Get out!" Matt yelled, the rage obvious in his eyes. "Don't come back!"
"Fine," Johnny replied, turning to walk back up the stairs. Michelle looked at her friend and saw the pain in his eyes, but knew that given the circumstances, she would be better served by keeping her mouth shut. They both walked up the stairs, and toward the front door. They ran into Holden on the way out.
"I'm so sorry," Johnny muttered to Matt's childe, not able to raise his head to look the SEAL in the eyes.
"I know," Holden replied. "Besides, if you had been here, they probably would have killed you, too. Matt's just taking this hard because he saw something very special in Barry. He was my childe, but Matt treated him like he was his."
"Such is the way of our clan, it's very tight-knit," Johnny said. "Could you have Matt call me when he calms down?"
"Sure," Holden answered, his voice betraying only a small bit of the grief that both Johnny and Michelle were sure he was feeling. "He didn't mean that stuff he said back there," Holden added. "You know that."
"Sure," Johnny muttered as he walked out through the front door. He trudged over to the car and got in, then drove off into the night. It was not long before Michelle tried to console her friend.
"It wasn't your fault, Johnny," she said, rubbing his shoulder. "It was mine, I made you go out there with me tonight."
"It wasn't your fault, Michelle," Johnny replied. "And that sure as hell wasn't the Sabbat that hit that place tonight."
"What?" Michelle asked, surprised. "I read the note, the Sabbat did it."
"First of all, if there's one thing the Sabbat is not, it's subtle," Johnny began. "There's no way in hell they could have gotten a pack of Sabbat past all of that security." He looked at Michelle quickly to see if she was about to take issue with him, but she seemed to accept his first statement. "Secondly, all of Matt's weapons were still there. There was an MP5 hanging on the wall four feet from Barry's body. There's no way the Sabbat would have passed that up. I don't buy this at all."
"So who did it?" Michelle asked.
"As far as we're concerned, the Sabbat did it," Johnny answered. "Do you understand? I don't want whoever is actually behind this to know that we suspect them. Kindred get killed that way. Keep this between us."
"Sure," Michelle answered.
IX
Reality came over Sonny suddenly as the knife was pulled out of his heart. He realized immediately that he was tied up. He saw Mac standing over him, still holding the knife, grinning at him madly.
"What did you do with Frank?" Sonny asked immediately. He had noticed that there was no sign of his childe anywhere in the room. Mac only responded by pointing out the large window in the front of the room. Sonny realized he was in a closed-up bakery, lying on the floor. He looked out the front window, searching for his childe. The quickly brightening sky allowed him to search the streets within moments, but he found no trace of his childe. "Where?" he asked his Sabbat captor.
Mac knelt down and grabbed Sonny's head, tilting it upward slightly. It was then that he noticed his childe. Frank was crucified on a lamppost across the street, in front of the Cable Car Museum. It would be only a matter of minutes before Frank's body would be caught in the light of the rising sun.
"No!" Sonny yelled, struggling with all of his strength to free himself.
"You won't get out in time," Mac said with a giggle. He looked back out the window and saw Caitlin, his newest and greatest childe, get up on a ladder and pull the knife from out of Frank's chest. He was also immediately coherent, understanding the danger he was in moments after having the knife withdrawn from his chest.
"Caitlin," he yelled as the reporter stepped back down the ladder. "Get me down from here! What are you doing?"
Caitlin looked up at Frank, then across the street at her sire, who was standing over Sonny. She then turned back to Frank and blew him a kiss, then climbed into the back of a van with darkly tinted windows.
"If you can get free in time, you can save him," Mac said to Sonny. He then tossed the knife in the far corner of the abandoned store, and walked out the front door. Sonny rolled himself over to the corner and grabbed the knife, immediately going to work on the ropes that held him. He cut frantically, slicing into his own wrists several times as he struggled to undo the rope behind his back. After a few minutes of struggle his hands were free. Then he went to work on the rope around his ankles. These posed little problem, as his hands were now loose and he could see what he was doing. A few seconds later he was on his feet and heading out the door. The sun was already reflecting off of the windows around the street, and Sonny had to fight off the instinctual terror he felt from the sunlight.
Once outside, he ran over toward the lamppost. Just as he got there, however, Jonas threw open the back door of the van and shot out Sonny's leg with a phosphorous shell from his shotgun. Sonny was immediately crippled, being able to move no better than at a crawl. Sonny knew immediately that there was no way he would be able put the ladder up next to the lamppost, no less climb up it. He looked up at Frank and saw that he was being held on the lamppost with chains. Even if Sonny could get up to him, there would be no way to get through the steel links. He looked around, nearing panic with the quickly brightening sky.
"Sonny, get back inside!" Frank yelled to his sire. "There's no way to get me down!"
"I'm not leaving!" Sonny yelled back, still fighting back the pain from the gunshot wound.
"It's ok, Sonny," Frank replied, trying to reassure his sire. "I'm going to see Alexandra again. It'll be alright." He said the words with such conviction that he almost believed them himself. If there was an afterlife, and Frank was soon to find out, he hoped that he would indeed see his old lover. She had died just like this, he thought. She was incinerated in the morning sun.
"No!" Sonny yelled back.
"Get inside!" Frank ordered again.
Reluctantly, Sonny accepted the situation and complied, crawling back to the store across the street. Several times his flesh was caught in the line of reflecting sunlight, and he received grievous burns from the rays that were a bane to the existence of vampires. He made it inside the old bakery and looked back, just in time to see the sun strike Frank's body.
The seasoned cop screamed in agony as the sunlight scorched the flesh from his bones. Sonny began to weep, knowing that he was powerless to save his childe, that this would be the last time that he would ever see Frank. Within a couple of minutes, Frank was nothing more than a pile of ash below the lamppost. Where the screaming of his childe had once filled the morning air, Sonny's ears were now filled the sounds of cheering coming from the back of the van. He could hear Caitlin laugh about the pain that she had inflicted on Julian's childe, and the death she had prepared for his grandchilde. As the cheers began to die down, the van slowly pulled away from the curb, and Sonny was left alone in the bakery for the remainder of the day. When the sun set, though, he knew he would have his vengeance.
CHAPTER 4
I
Julian sat behind his desk, cleaning the barrel of one of his pistols. It was a chore that he had not done in years, not since the night before his attack on the Brujah at Manzanita. After that night, he had hung up his weapons, resolving to endorse peace. On the few occasions that he had been forced to take up arms again, he had always had one of his retainers tend to his weapons for him. He despised the familiarity that the cleaning of the guns produced. He became closer to the weapon, one with it. He had not wanted to become one again with any weapon, though. That had all changed last night. He had come out of the Haven and been gunned down by the Sabbat that were laying siege to his city.
The Haven had been declared Elysium. This meant that there was no violence permitted between kindred either in the club or in its immediate vicinity. The Sabbat had violated this rule and caused a public spectacle that led to the deaths of two Gangrel and four mortals. Such actions endangered the Masquerade. He would have to discuss the reality of the situation with Daedalus. He had to get the Nosferatu involved. If the Nosferatu would enter the fight, Julian's ranks would be augmented significantly. He would be able to take the fight to the Sabbat.
Julian looked up from his pistol as he heard Sasha walk into the room. "Hello Sasha," he said with a smile. "I assume you know why I wished to speak with you."
"It's about Jenni, isn't it?" Sasha asked in response. She had been dreading this conversation. The embrace of children was strictly against kindred law. The Sabbat had achieved a new low in bringing Jenni into their ranks.
"Is that her name?" Julian asked. He knew very little about the young girl that Sasha had found the night before. All he had heard was that Sasha had 'adopted' a child kindred that she had found after the battle. To make matters worse, his niece had brought this Sabbat child into his home. At first he had feared that the child was a Sabbat spy. Lillie had looked at Jenni's aura, though, and seen that she still retained much of the honesty and innocence of youth. Whatever else they might accuse her of, it was unlikely that Jenni was a Sabbat agent.
"That's her name," Sasha answered.
"Are you aware of the laws governing the embrace of children?" Julian asked.
"Yes, I am," Sasha replied. "But I didn't embrace her. The Sabbat did, I just found her."
"Her existence is still that of an abomination to our ways," Julian said. He felt that he had to convince Sasha that the best course of action would be to extinguish the girl. Otherwise, they would be sentencing her to an eternity in the body of a child.
"You have no right to destroy her," Sasha answered, growing steadily more upset. Julian scolded himself for not remembering how Sasha's Brujah blood made her so prone to fits of rage. He would have to be very cautious.
"I'm not saying that we should necessarily destroy her," Julian continued. "I'm merely trying to get you to understand why we forbid the embrace of children. How would you feel if you had your personality forever stuck in the undeveloped body of a child? Do you think you would be able to maintain your relationship with Cash if you were in that situation?"
"So you would eliminate that pain by simply destroying her?" Sasha asked incredulously. "Her childhood was torn away from her, we owe it her to make sure that she doesn't lose anything else. We have to atone for the sins of the Sabbat."
Julian was taken aback by Sasha's eloquence. He did not agree much at all with what she said, but he was certain that she had put a lot of thought into this discussion. His mind caught hold of another possibility. If Sasha was so serious about caring for this child, she may be willing to cope with the fact that she would need to take a greater responsibility for her own actions. Neither Rayce nor Cash had been able to calm the demons of Sasha's soul, but perhaps this child could. Julian decided to allow the child to live, at least for the time being.
"Ok, Sasha," Julian said, relenting. "I will allow the child to live, but she is your responsibility."
"Thank you, Uncle Julian," Sasha said with a large smile as she bent over and kissed Julian on the cheek. "I won't let you down." She turned and started to head out of the study.
"One more thing, Sasha," Julian added. "Try to find out if she remembers anything about the Sabbat's location."
"I already did," Sasha replied. "She doesn't seem to remember much. Carter talked with her, and said she has traumatic amnesia or something."
"Alright," Julian said as Sasha turned once more and left. He sat back and began to consider his situation in the city. If only all of my problems were as easy to solve as this one was, he thought
"Julian," Sonny said, knocking softly on the open door as he walked into the room. "We need to talk."
Julian looked at his childe and knew immediately that something was extremely wrong. He watched as Sonny limped slowly into the room, and concluded that he must have been jumped by the Sabbat at some time the night before. It was then that Julian got a terrible sinking feeling in his stomach – Sonny was coming in alone. Ever since he had embraced Frank, the two had been in each other's presence at all times. Before Sonny even said it, Julian knew what he was to be told.
"Frank is dead," Sonny said, the difficulty of speaking the words evident. The pain written on Sonny's face was excruciating for Julian to see.
"I'm so sorry," Julian replied. He knew the pain that was caused when a childe was lost. He remembered the pain of his first lost childe as greatly as the most recent – Alexandra. Remembering his lost childe reminded him of the promise that he had made to his former lover. He had promised to protect Frank's life for as long as he lived. Julian thought he had done so by allowing Sonny to embrace his partner. As kindred, Frank was stronger than he had been as a mortal. In addition, all those kindred that disliked the idea of a human knowing the truth about their existence had no longer watched him, planning a subtle accident to end his days in the city.
"How did it happen?" Julian asked. While he was sure that the Sabbat had killed Frank, he had to know details. He wanted to start adding up numbers and abilities of his opponents, so that he would have a better idea of what he was facing.
"I'm sorry, Julian," Sonny replied, trying to compose himself so that he could tell Julian what had happened. "There's so much more that happened last night. There's so much more that you need to know."
"What?" Julian asked. He was not sure what the strange, foreboding tone in his childe's voice meant, but he was certain that he did not like it.
"Frank was killed by the newest member of the Sabbat," Sonny said. He looked up into the eyes of his sire, hoping to make sure Julian knew exactly what he said. He had no desire to repeat the news he was about to give his sire. "It was Caitlin," Sonny said.
"What?" Julian muttered in response. He felt as if his insides had just been blown out of him with a cannonball.
"They took Caitlin," Sonny said, hating to have to reiterate the news. "She crucified Frank on a lamppost and left him for the morning sun." Sonny looked at his sire, noting the vacant stare that Julian was setting on his childe. "She unstaked him just before the sun hit him, Julian. She wanted him to feel the pain. She laughed about it."
"Leave me," Julian muttered. Though Sonny wanted to stay with his sire, to help to console him, he knew that it was probably better at that time to leave the prince alone with his grief. He would return to join him when the pain turned into rage.
Julian buried his head in his hands, trying to close his eyes to reality. Perhaps if he believed hard enough, it would all stop being true. No matter how hard he concentrated on shutting the thoughts out of his head, the truth remained. Caitlin was gone, lost to him forever. She had been taken by the Sabbat. How could he have not seen this coming? It seemed so obvious now, in hindsight, that the Sabbat would go after the woman that was more important to him than anything else in his city.
He had tried for so long to keep Caitlin out of kindred affairs. He had protected her from Lillie, from Goth and Camilla, from all of the kindred in the city that felt she was getting too close to the truth. Now all his efforts proved to have been in vain. In the end, the fate he had tried so long and hard to protect her from eventually found her, despite his greatest efforts. He would have to repay the Sabbat a hundred-fold for the pain that they had caused him.
A knock at the door told Julian that he was once again required to fill the role of prince. He had responsibilities, and had to perform them no matter what personal hell he was going through at the time. He looked up and saw Johnny Yashida standing in his doorway. He noticed immediately that Johnny did not look much better than Sonny had. Matt's sire looked as strung out as anyone that he had seen in the past few days.
"What is it, Johnny?" Julian asked.
"First of all, I wish to offer my greatest of sympathy for your losses last night," Johnny said. "Secondly, I need to ask a couple of favors of you, Julian. I know this is probably not the best time, but I need to do it now."
"What do you need?" Julian asked.
"First, I want permission to bring another one of my childer into the city," Johnny said. Of course, permission was a little irrelevant, since Dmitri's plane would be landing in an hour, but Johnny still liked to play with all the formalities.
"Certainly," Julian answered. "I trust he will behave himself."
"He's much better behaved than I am," Johnny commented. "Second, I would like permission to stay here with you, in the mansion, until further notice. It would be me, Michelle, and my childe, Dmitri."
"Why can't you stay with Matt?" Julian asked. He thought it was surprising that Yashida was not planning to stay with his childe. The two were fairly close.
"He threw me out," Johnny said. "Barry was killed last night, and Matt blames me. I was not there to protect the childe when the attack came."
"He lost Barry?" Julian asked. He could hardly believe the situation. Every time he turned around, he was finding another associate who had already lost someone to the Sabbat. The damn war had only been raging for one night, and already they were on the defensive.
"Yeah," Johnny said. "He's not taking it very well. If I were you, I'd keep an eye on him when he goes out after the Sabbat. I don't know if protecting the Masquerade will be his greatest priority."
"I understand," Julian replied. He appreciated Yashida's candor. Matt's sire had always been a puzzle to him. Apparently, he was a fairly irresponsible thief who flaunted every law of mortal society. However, he took kindred law and tradition very seriously. Julian doubted that he had met a more formal vampire embraced in the last fifty years, at least not outside of the Tremere clan. As for protecting the Masquerade, however, Julian doubted whether he would even care when the time came. He was out for blood himself. Part of him hoped that Matt would cross the line and take their enemies down with all the violence that the Sabbat itself espoused.
"I'm gonna get going now," Johnny said. "I'm sure you want to be alone." As he walked out, he pondered everything that he had heard. Marcus had said that he could not send out his childer for another couple of weeks, but that as soon as they were available they would be on their way. Until then, Johnny would have to make due with Dmitri. With the way things were going, he only hoped the city would last until reinforcements could arrive.
II
The two large vans slowly pulled into the huge parking lot outside 3 Com Park at Candlestick Point, their drivers looking intently at everything around them. When Marie and Linus found two adjoining parking spaces, the doors opened and the two packs of Sabbat spilled out of the vans.
"What are we doing here?" Caitlin asked Mac. As she asked her question, she could hear the crowd inside the park start to cheer for the hometown 49ers.
"The Sabbat is not just all about the hunting down of the Camarilla, Ms. Byrne," Jason commented as he rummaged through a large sack in the back of Chuck's van. "We also know how to have fun. We like to play games."
"What kind of games?" Caitlin asked.
"The 49ers are playing the Redskins this evening," Jonas commented to the newest member of his pack. "We figure that the 49ers were sort of like Cowboys, and the Redskins were, of course, the Indians that were native to the land before the 49ers arrived. In honor of this game, we're going to play our own game of Cowboys and Indians."
"Cowboys and Indians?" Caitlin asked. "Isn't that a kid's game?"
"Not when you play with real guns," Action Jackson said with a large smile.
Caitlin looked at Jason, who was now spilling the contents of the large bag on the ground in back of the van. Several cowboy hats, feathers, boots, holsters, and a couple of pairs of spurs were spread out in front of her.
"It's your turn to call it," Jonas said to Chuck as he tossed a quarter into the air.
"Heads," Chuck yelled out. Jonas looked at the coin and nodded his head. "We'll be the Cowboys," Chuck said with apparent delight. At that moment, everyone in his pack started snatching up cowboy hats and boots, and put on holsters. From the back of Jonas' van they were each given a .38 cal. revolver.
"We'll see you in the park," Chuck said as he started to lead his pack toward the stadium.
"You guys are aware that there are security guards that are employed to make sure no weapons get into the stadium, right?" Caitlin asked.
"Yeah," Chuck yelled back as he grew farther away, "but the Force has a strong influence on the weak-minded."
"What the hell does that mean?" Caitlin asked Mac as she turned to her sire.
"Some vampires can control the minds of mortals," Mac responded. "We'll be able to walk right in without anyone saying a word." He bent over and picked up a feather headdress, and handed it to his childe. "Put this on," he said. "You shall be called Caitlin Fiery Sunrise," he added with a giggle. Then Mac went into the back of the van and pulled out an assault rifle.
"Mac," Action Jackson commented, "I don't think that Indians used AK-47's."
"Well, they should have," Mac replied. "If they had, maybe all of us silly white men wouldn't be here to shoot up this football game." Action Jackson just shook his head and picked up a shotgun.
"I don't think they used shotguns, either," Caitlin commented.
"Well, we don't have access to any .50 cal. flint lock rifles right now," Action Jackson replied, "and bows and arrows are fairly cumbersome. Besides, the Indians did sometimes use a shotgun-type rifle that they took from the bodies of dead cavalry officers after the Civil War. Read your history." Caitlin just shook her head and steadied the headdress, and began to walk toward the entrance with the rest of her pack.
As Mac had assured her, they were able to walk right past the security guards as Huck used his abilities as a Lasombra to alter the perceptions of the guards. The guards actually believed that the whole group was perfectly within its rights to walk in toting shotguns and assault rifles.
After a quick comment about the necessity of gaining the high ground, the whole group raced up the escalators toward the top of the stadium. At the top level, they met resistance when they ran into Molochai, Jason, and Becca. The three from Chuck's pack started firing wildly at the Indians, but were eventually pushed back by the superior numbers. Jonas watched as the three ran through the portal into the stands, and ordered his Indians to pursue. They split up into two groups and went into the seats after their Cowboy opponents.
As the nine Sabbat Indians emerged into the crowd watching the game, they got many a curious look. Then Mac noticed Becca crouching down behind a family about seven rows up.
"I see one!" he yelled, raising his AK-47 to bring Becca to bear. She dove to her left just as Mac started firing. The shots hit the family, knocking their bodies back onto Becca and pinning her to the ground. People realized what was happening and started to panic. "Damnit!" Mac yelled, realizing that Becca and the rest would probably be able to escape in the chaos that was rapidly developing.
"Would you like a hot dog sir?" Mac heard someone next to him ask. He turned and came face to face with Marie, who had apparently attacked a hot-dog vendor and taken his uniform. Before he could react, she had shot him three times and put him down.
"No fair," Mac complained as he rolled around on the ground in pain. "Cowboys never dressed up like the wiener man!"
"Yeah, and Indians never used AK-47's," Marie yelled back as she ducked into the stampeding crowd.
None of the Sabbat vampires was aware of the attention they were receiving, though it was certain that none of them would have cared. Several television cameras were directed toward them, displaying their image across the country to a nationally televised audience. Security guards throughout the stadium were in a frenzy, some running as fast as they could to stop the chaos, and others running for the nearest closet, not willing to risk their lives for the small salary that they received.
Within moments of the eruption of gunfire, every vampire present knew that this had been a bad choice for a place to play their game. The panicking masses started to push them all toward the exits. Mac seemed particularly upset about having to leave, as he continued to fire into the crowds that were pushing him unceasingly toward the ramps leading back down to the ground level. He suddenly got an idea of how to disperse the crowd, and started yelling out for his childe.
Moments later, he had found Caitlin and shot his way over to her. "Do you have any of those cocktails with you?" he asked.
"Just one," she replied, seemingly disappointed. She handed the Molotov cocktail to her sire, and he lit the oily rag sticking out of the bottle. When it was lit, he threw it into the middle of the crowd. The glass broke, allowing the gasoline inside to be ignited by the lit rag, causing fire to spread amongst the people in the crowd. Almost immediately the football fans began to spread out away from the fire and the people it was consuming.
"That's more like what I had in mind," he said with a grin. Before he could finish patting himself on the back, however, Mac was shot several times by Chuck, Lissette, Sandra, and Jimmy the Greek. He fell to the ground, and in a flash Caitlin picked up the AK-47 and started firing at the attacking Cowboys. The Cowboys all dove for cover, and the rest of the Indians, who had rallied to Caitlin's cause, finally joined her. Within mere seconds, the rest of the Cowboys had also arrived, and they all shot each other repeatedly until they were almost out of ammunition.
"That's enough for now," Jonas yelled to all the others. "There may be a few cops waiting outside for us. We might need the rest of our bullets." With that the whole group of them started running down the escalators toward the parking lot outside.
III
Matt gazed out the window of his Hummer intently, searching for any sign of the Sabbat. He figured there was actually a good chance of finding some of the invaders in the Mission District, as there were many places for them to hide. Holden sat next to his sire, driving the vehicle while also trying to keep an eye out for any sign of the enemy. The tension was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of Matt's car phone.
"Yeah?" Matt asked as he picked the phone up.
"I heard you were looking for Sabbat blood," the Telemon primogen heard a voice say on the other end of the line. He recognized Rayce immediately.
"Any news, Rayce?" Matt asked.
"Go to 3 Com Park," the Brujah responded.
"Are you sure they're there?" Matt inquired. He did not want to go out to the Point just to come up empty.
"I can't imagine another group of twenty or so people that would start a game of Cowboys and Indians in the stands of the 'Niners game," Rayce responded. "They're probably gunning down the police that responded to the call at this very minute."
"I'm on my way," Matt responded as he turned to Holden and told him to head for 3 Com.
"One more thing," Rayce added. "I told Yashida, too. He's on his way. I hope you don't mind."
"I hope you can depend on him," Matt replied as he hung up the phone. He realized that Rayce's intentions had been good, as the Brujah probably wanted to increase solidarity within his friend's clan. However, Matt no longer wished to have any solidarity with his sire. Johnny was completely self-absorbed. It came as no surprise to Matt when he heard that Russian Treasures Authentic had been robbed the night before. Several Faberge Eggs had been stolen, along with a valuable, hand-made chess set. Not coincidentally, Russian Treasures Authentic was almost adjacent to the Cannery, where Johnny and Michelle had been the night before the robbery. No doubt, they were casing out the place, Matt thought.
Even if Johnny were more responsible, though, the fact remained that he was the weakest member of the clan. He had always been almost completely incapable of fighting with the same ability that everyone else in the clan displayed. The time had come for Matt to move on, beyond what his sire was capable of.
As he sped down Interstate 280, on his way to 3 Com Park, Johnny heard his cell-phone ringing. He handed the phone over to Michelle to take the call, as he was far too busy weaving through the traffic at 130 m.p.h.
"Yashida's driving school, we brake for no one," Michelle said as she answered the phone. "How can I help you?"
"This is Dmitri," came the reply. "Is Yashida there?"
"He's busy practicing for the Daytona 500," Michelle answered, grasping to the door handle with all her strength to hold herself steady.
"Who is it?" Johnny asked his companion.
"Dmitri," Michelle replied. "Do you want me to take a message?"
"No," Johnny said with a look that conveyed his curiosity about whether Michelle had been paying attention to anything in the past few minutes. "Tell him to get a cab and to get his ass up by 3 Com, where we're going. We'll meet him there."
"Sure," Michelle said with a smile and a wink. She relayed the message to Johnny's childe and put the phone back in his pocket.
"He says he's looking forward to seeing you again," she said as she leaned in gave Johnny a hug, almost causing him to lose control of the 3000 GT.
"You mind?" Johnny asked, looking at Michelle with a bit of disapproval. She pretended to sulk for a brief moment, then cranked up the stereo and started to make sure her gun was ready. "If we have to chase them anywhere, I'm gonna want you to drive," Johnny yelled to his passenger over the sound of the music and rushing wind."
"No shooting?" Michelle asked, seeming disappointed. She had been looking forward to plugging a few Sabbat vampires full of holes.
"No," Johnny replied sternly. "Besides, Rayce called Julian before he called us. He'll probably get there a couple of minutes before we do. I don't want to be distracted with driving when the prince goes after them for killing Frank and embracing Caitlin. I totally have to see this."
IV
"I'm a little disappointed," Jonas lamented as he looked back at the bodies of four police officers lying in the street. "Those pigs didn't even offer any amusement at all." The leader of the second pack had hoped that he would be able to vent some of his frustration on the local authorities as they fled the parking lot outside 3 Com Park, but few squad cars had responded to the call by the time both packs were out of the stadium. The police were spread very thin trying to cover all of the exits at once, not knowing where the vampires would be heading. So Jonas' pack was able to kill only four mortals. As far as Jonas was concerned, they may as well have not even been there. His artwork on Theo had gone badly the night before, as the Gangrel had resisted the modifications to his appearance. As a result, his lower lip had peeled almost completely off. Jonas doubted that he would be able to correct the damage, and the opportunity to vent the frustration arising from this disappointment was not presenting itself.
"You see any more cops anywhere?" Action Jackson yelled up to Linus, who was driving the van.
"No," Linus replied, sounding somewhat relieved. "I think we got away clean."
"Damnit!" Jackson shouted. He had also hoped to have a little more excitement than they had had. The only people he had been able to shoot were his own packmates, and that certainly did not count.
"Wait!" Jessica shouted from the passenger seat up front. "I think I see another one coming right at us!"
As she pointed in front of them, Linus swerved to avoid the unmarked police cruiser. Behind them, Marie was also able to swerve the second van around the police car. The car slammed on its brakes, turned around, and began to pursue. In the second van, Molochai looked back in disbelief at the passenger in the car.
"Is that Julian Luna?" he asked. Before anyone could answer, Marie made a hard left onto Carroll Ave., knocking everyone to the floor of the stripped-down van.
"Hey, watch it girl," Jason said, scolding their driver. Chuck, sitting in the passenger seat of the second van, did not say anything. He was obviously enjoying the drive far too much.
Not having gotten an answer to his question, Molochai picked up an AK-47, threw open the back doors of the van, and started firing. The identity of the passenger was clear a moment later, as Julian Luna shot out the windshield with his shotgun, and started firing at the Sabbat vampires inside the second van. Molochai was hit first, followed by Jason and Lissette.
"What the fuck?" Chuck shouted as he ducked his head down from the shots. Just looking at his packmates rolling around on the floor of the van was enough to tell him that the prince of the city was using phosphorous rounds against them. Chuck figured that it was probably a safe assumption that they had pissed off Luna the night before.
Before Julian could get a good enough shot to be able to finish off any of his Sabbat enemies, however, the first van slowed down and pulled up next to the second one. The back doors flew open, and Sue and Action Jackson started firing assault rifles at the prince's vehicle. The police cruiser swerved violently to the right as Sonny took several hits and momentarily lost control of the car. Julian was able to get control of the car back, though, and moments later Sonny was able to drive again. In the intervening time, however, Chuck's pack had been able to regroup. Molochai, Jason, and Lissette moved to the front of the van, while Chuck, Sandra, Becca, and Jimmy picked up some shotguns and moved to the back. Just as they were about to fire at Julian's vehicle again, they were all knocked down by fire from Matt's minigun.
The two vans had just turned onto 3rd Street, and Matt had been waiting for them there in his Humvee. As the two vans raced off into the distance, followed moments later by Julian and Sonny, Holden floored the Hummer and pounded on the steering wheel as he wished the vehicle was capable of reaching 60 mph in under 15 seconds. Matt continued to fire the minigun at the two vans, completely oblivious to any restriction that the Masquerade may have placed upon him. From the actions of the prince, Matt judged that he would not be questioned.
"Something's coming up fast behind us," Holden yelled up to Matt. He hoped his sire had heard him over the sound of the wind and gunfire. "Is it more Sabbat or what?"
Matt turned quickly behind him, swiveling the minigun into position to fire if the vehicle behind them did indeed turn out to be hostile. As the car came closer, however, he saw that it was Johnny's Mitsubishi. For a split second he considered firing, but his loyalty to the clan, despite his views of the shortcomings of some members, prevented him from turning the car into scrap. He turned once more to the front as Michelle raced the car past the Hummer. Johnny was hanging out the passenger window, firing two Beretta 93R 9mm handguns. Matt had to smile at his sire's choice of weapons. Although Johnny may not have been the best shot in the world, he picked the one handgun that would give him the best chance of hitting something. The 93R was capable of bursting, so that every time Yashida pulled the trigger, he fired three shots. The approval Matt felt quickly faded, though, as he remembered that Johnny had been responsible for the death of his grandchilde. He would not forget, or ever forgive.
"Now there's another one back there!" Linus shouted to the occupants of his van. "We might have done better to get ourselves arrested."
"Not to worry," Caitlin said to her packmate as she grabbed a bottle full of gasoline from a steel chest. "Get me a little closer to Luna's car, I want to give him a present."
Linus started to inch the van over to the right a little bit as Caitlin stuck a rag in the top of the bottle and lit it. Moments later, Sonny brought the shot-up police cruiser directly behind the van, allowing Julian to take shots at the vampires inside. As he moved into position, Julian allowed himself to hope that he would be able to finish off a few of his enemies with his next volley. However, just as he was about to fire, he saw Caitlin standing in the back of the van. She looked directly at him with eyes filled with grief and confusion, causing the prince to hesitate. He could not bring himself to destroy the woman he still loved. Moments later, the grief and confusion turned to rage and madness, and Caitlin did not hesitate.
"Julian, you set my heart on fire!" she yelled as she hurled the bottle right at the front of Julian's car. The bottle flew in through the gaping hole in the windshield, shattering off of Julian's shotgun and splashing gasoline all over the interior of the car. The rag in the top of the bottle then simultaneously ignited all of the gas, turning the front seat of the vehicle into a furnace. Julian and Sonny were immediately consumed in flames, and Sonny drove the car off of the side of the road, hoping to get it stopped quickly enough so that the two Ventrue could get out before they were incinerated. He succeeded, and the two were rolling on the ground to put the fire out as Cash and a few of his Gangrel showed up on their motorcycles.
"Julian, are you ok?" the Gangrel primogen asked the prince. He was aghast as he looked at Julian. The powerful Ventrue was terribly burned, and his eyes seemed vacant. "Go help the others!" Cash yelled to his clanmates. The other Gangrel then raced off down the road after the two vans, the Hummer, and the Mitsubishi.
In Jonas' van, Caitlin was still giggling with joy as Michelle pulled Johnny up close enough to get a shot at the inside of the van. Yashida pulled his Tommy gun out of the back seat and started to fill the back of the van up with bullets. In the second van, Chuck and Becca were about to help out their comrades with some cover fire when several shots went into their van, fired by the Gangrel that had just joined the chase.
"This is really starting to not look so good," Jonas commented as he ducked away from a few more shots from Yashida. As Holden finally caught up and Matt brought the minigun to bear once more, Jonas started to feel that the situation might indeed be getting hopeless. "This is really not good!" he yelled as he saw the left side of the van become filled with holes. He started to wonder how much more the vehicles would be able to take. "You have to lose them!" he shouted up Linus, who was struggling to keep any of his pursuers from getting a clear shot at the back of the vans.
As if in response, Linus cut the wheel sharply to the left, turning onto Mariposa. Marie was able to keep the other van with them, but the Mitsubishi and the Hummer had both missed the turn, and were stopping and turning back around. The Gangrel, riding the far more maneuverable motorcycles, had succeeded in staying with them however, and kept firing at their enemies.
"Caitlin, help me out with this!" Mac yelled to his childe as he opened the last of the closed steel chests in the back of the van. Caitlin knew the weapon by sight as soon as she saw her sire strapping the tank onto his back. Mac was preparing to use a flame-thrower on the Gangrel. "You have to let them get a little closer, Linus," Mac yelled to the Panders who was driving. Although Linus did not want the Gangrel any closer than they already were, he complied. Mac moved to the doors and fired at the Gangrel.
The last thing Jake and Max would ever see was the arc of fire launched at them from the rear of the van. Unable to get out of the way, they were covered with napalm, which stuck to their skin and clothes as it burned. Both Gangrel were consumed in the flames. Lana, T.J., and Rick were all able to save themselves by ditching onto the asphalt. Of course, they all suffered terrible wounds from sliding across the road at 70 mph, but they would all survive, which is more than they could say for their two clanmates.
Johnny and Michelle were the first to catch up to the Sabbat vampires once again, and Johnny was letting loose with everything he had left. "You have to get past them!" he yelled to Michelle. "I have to get a shot at their engines or something!"
Michelle nodded and hit the gas, pulling up alongside Chuck's van on the left before any of the Sabbat could get off a well-aimed shot. Johnny looked down at the tires and decided they would make a far better target, but was hit with gunfire before he could take his shot. In the back of Chuck's van, the Sabbat were firing through the side of the van at Johnny and Michelle, and the Mitsubishi was quickly riddled with bullet holes.
"Shit!" Michelle yelled as she slammed on the brakes to get out of the field of fire. Even as she slowed down, both vans turned right onto 280, heading toward downtown San Francisco. The 3000GT came to a stop, and Holden drove the Hummer past, having regained enough speed to get Matt within range to start firing once again at the Sabbat vampires. With the Hummer back behind them, the Sabbat in both vans decided to ignore Johnny and Michelle, who were starting up once again.
As they came up onto the highway, the Sabbat started to fire not only at the Hummer, but also at every other vehicle in sight. Chuck and Jonas had started with the shooting at the mortals, hoping they could cause an accident that would slow down their pursuers. The strategy worked.
Johnny noticed a car ahead of them cut sharply to the left in front of a semi, which in turn veered left at the Mitsubishi. Johnny realized they were going to get hit, and jumped out of the window and onto the road before the truck got too close. The semi slammed into the side of the Mitsubishi, driving it against the median. The engine instantly died, and Michelle became trapped in the frame of the car.
Johnny stood up and looked at his wrecked car, then ran up to it to see if his friend was ok. "Michelle, are you all right?" he yelled into the wreck.
"As long as they can cut me out of here before daybreak," she called back. Johnny sighed with relief, but his respite was short lived.
"Johnny!" he heard a man's voice yelling. Yashida turned quickly, and saw Dmitri calling to him from the back of a cab.
"I'll see you at home 'chelle," he said to his friend as he ran over to the cab. Johnny opened the driver's door and threw the cabby out onto the ground. "Get up here Dmitri!" he yelled as he started to move the cab toward the shoulder, looking to get around the accident. Dmitri got out of the back seat, ran forward to the front door, and jumped in as Johnny slammed down the accelerator.
"What the hell is going on?" Dmitri asked his sire.
"Matt's out there against them alone," Johnny responded, intent on the road in front of him. He was at least a full minute behind the two vans, and had to make up time. The cab raced past shot-up vehicles, Johnny always swerving just enough to avoid any further delays.
Back ahead, there was hardly anything left of the two Sabbat vans. At the same time, however, Matt was almost completely out of ammunition. He had fired well over two thousand rounds during the course of the chase, overheating the barrels of his mini-gun, and the vans were still going. Unfortunately, he had not been able to get a clear shot at anything vital. Not even the tires had been exposed. Whoever is driving that van, Matt thought, has done this before.
"Situation's critical boss," Molochai said to Chuck. "We're about out of ammo, and these vans aren't going to keep going much longer. What the hell do we do now?"
"Get off at 4th Street," Chuck yelled to Marie over the sound of another volley from Matt's minigun. "We'll get some help there." Just after he finished speaking, Chuck was knocked back four feet from a shot into his chest. He was able to see a cab following them with a rather large man hanging out the passenger window, firing two revolvers, every shot seeming to hit someone in the van.
"Just like shooting ducks in a barrel," Dmitri said to his sire with a smile. Johnny just shook his head and managed to sneak one more glance at Dmitri's weapons – two Ruger Redhawk .44 cal revolvers. The report from each shot was making Johnny deaf. A moment later Dmitri was out of bullets. "Get me near the other van," he said to Johnny. The Russian had dropped the two Redhawks on the floor and had pulled a Desert Eagle from out of his overnight bag. Johnny almost lost control of the car as he gawked at the hand cannon Dmitri was aiming at the second van.
"What the hell do you need that for?" he screamed at his childe.
"Her," Dmitri responded. A fraction of a second later, Caitlin Byrne was lying on her back in the van, completely incapacitated by the shot.
Before Dmitri could take a second shot, both vans darted off of the highway, heading for 4th street. In the Hummer, Holden suddenly gasped as he saw a limousine stopped at the bottom of the exit ramp. Geist was standing in front of the car, holding a very scary looking weapon. He cut the Hummer in front of Johnny and slammed on his brakes, causing Yashida to curse as he rammed into the back of the armored vehicle. A moment later, Johnny heard a loud explosion and was blinded by a flash of light. He cut the wheel to the right and hit the gas, careening the cab off of the ramp and to the ground twenty feet below. Before he had gone over the edge, he had been able to see Geist standing at the bottom of the exit ramp, holding a grenade launcher. I'll bet that was the bishop, Johnny thought as he plummeted to the ground below.
In the Hummer, both Holden and Matt were assaulted by the heat from the explosion and pierced by shrapnel, but were otherwise unharmed. However, they both knew that they would have to get out of the vehicle, or risk being consumed in fire should the Hummer explode. They both jumped out of the stopped vehicle and ran across to the edge of the ramp, hoping to be able to jump down to where Johnny had gone. Before they made it, Geist opened up with an M-16 that he had picked up after using the grenade launcher. Both Telemon were shot several times, but they were able to jump off of the ramp.
Matt and Holden both hit the ground hard, breaking several ribs along with their legs. They could hear the sounds of police sirens quickly approaching, and knew that they would have to get out of the area as soon as possible. They both stumbled over to the steaming cab, hoping that the Sabbat would also aim to get away before the police arrived. Inside the cab they found Johnny and Dmitri alive, though fairly injured.
"Matt?" Johnny asked, his face grimacing in pain. "Is that you? Matt? I can't see that far..."
"Get out of there," Matt said, obviously irritated. He was almost dumbstruck that Johnny would still be making jokes at a time like this. He pulled his sire out of the destroyed cab, and looked over at Dmitri, who had also stepped out of the car. From the fact that Dmitri had been able to walk away from the crash, Matt knew that he was not a mortal, though he had never met Dmitri before. Johnny did not waste time getting to introductions.
"Matt, this is Dmitri, one of my earlier childer," he said, gesturing to Dmitri Vadislav. "Dmitri, this is Matt, the latest of my childer. He's the primogen of our clan in this city." Both of the Telemon simply nodded to the other. Matt could still hear the pride in Johnny's voice, even after the way he had spoken to him. He had no time for trying to make amends, though.
"We have to get out of here," Matt said, looking around for any means of transportation.
"Your chariot awaits," Johnny replied as he limped over to a BMW parked about forty feet away. Within moments, he had the vehicle started, and they were driving back the way they had come.
"Where are we going?" Matt asked.
"I have to get my weapons," Johnny replied. "You can't get those Berettas here in the States, and that Tommy gun is authentic. It's an antique." He looked back at Matt, conveying his surprise that his childe was not more sympathetic. "Besides, we should probably get Michelle, too," he added with a grin.
V
Caitlin paced across the floor of the warehouse, still incredibly pumped up after the car chase coming back from 3 Com Park. One of the reasons she had gotten involved in reporting was that it gave her an opportunity to get right in the middle of things. Suddenly she had been more involved in the action than she had ever been before. She did not think about the policemen that they had killed, or the children they may have orphaned. All that was important was the fact that she saw her lover, Julian Luna, and that she hurt him. She hurt him in return for all the pain that he had caused her over the course of their relationship. Actually, it had never really been a relationship, she thought. It had been nothing more than a liaison. She could see that now. All that was important to Julian Luna was the satisfaction of his own desires, and control of her. Through her, he gained control of her newspaper, and through that all of her readers. His methods of dominance were truly insidious, but now Caitlin was free of him. The Sabbat had shown her the path to freedom, away from the control of the older vampires of the Camarilla – they would destroy those elders.
"How's your wound?" Mac asked as he walked up to his new childe. He had been impressed with her courage in the night's battle, and wanted to foster her aggressiveness even more. Caitlin had survived her first major fight, and was now a permanent part of the pack. She would gain the protection of its members, and she would be expected to risk her life to save the others if they should ever need her help. It was the strength of the Sabbat, Mac pondered. They would always stick together. They were family.
"I think I have it all healed," Caitlin responded to her sire. "I did it just like you told me. I never would have imagined it was possible to heal a bullet wound in a matter of an hour. It sure took less time than the knees last night."
"It will get even faster as you gain experience," Mac replied, smiling. "There will come a day when you will be able to heal a bullet wound within a matter of seconds, with hardly any thought. It will come naturally."
"I'm hungry," Caitlin replied, still grinning ear to ear. "Is there any place we can feed?"
"We can feed anywhere," Mac answered. He knew that the Camarilla would most likely be holed up somewhere, licking their wounds. The Sabbat would be in no danger on the streets for the remainder of the night.
"Then take me anywhere," Caitlin said as she picked her gun up off of the card table in the middle of the room. "Let's celebrate."
Jonas watched the two Malkavians walk out of the room, down the stairs, and out of the warehouse. He had to admit that the embrace of Caitlin had been a fantastically inspired move on Geist's part. They had hoped to upset Julian, to cause him to lose his sense of reason. Not only had that goal apparently been accomplished, they had also gained a surprisingly effective soldier. Caitlin had managed to burn the prince severely that night, and it would be several days before Julian Luna would be back to full health. Of course, this was balanced out by the fact that several of Chuck's pack would be out of action for a short time as well. While the phosphorous rounds that Julian had fired had not killed any of the Sabbat, they had caused serious wounds that would require more mending time than any standard shell would have.
Jonas turned and walked back into his studio, intent on trying to fix the damage that had unfortunately been caused to his latest masterpiece. While the damage was significant, he still held out hope that he would be able to remedy the situation. He simply needed to stop Theo from being able to resist.
As the Toreador walked into the room, Theo looked up, a slight hint of desperation evident in his eyes. He was still holding out hope that his clanmates would find him, that he would be freed before the maniacal Toreador antitribu could use his face as canvas for the creation of horror. Jonas simply smiled at his Gangrel 'guest,' and walked over to the television set he had in the corner. He turned it on, and started the tape that he had in the VCR. Moments later, Theo could hear the screams he had made days earlier, when Jonas had allowed his captive to feel that he was about to be incinerated in the sun. The Toreador then rewound the tape and watched the segment again. Theo was tortured every time he heard the tape. To him, it was a sign of his weakness, his own fear in the face of death. It was unacceptable that he had reacted in such a way.
Jonas, on the other hand, loved the footage. He had truly captured the primal fear of death in Theo's face. Unfortunately, having the image on film, and transcribing that image onto Theo's visage, were two completely different matters. Jonas started to wonder whether he had in fact overestimated his own abilities. He shook his head, driving out the self-doubt. It had been the Gangrel's fault that this had happened – he had continued to resist the modifications to his appearance.
The Toreador stood up from the chair in front of the TV, and walked over to a closet in the corner. He pulled out a stake that he had crafted for just this type of a contingency, and walked over to Theo. He raised the stake and brought it down in a violent release of force, impaling the Gangrel on the table. While he hated to work on a comatose subject, Jonas saw the necessity of keeping Theo from interfering in the process any more than he already had. After all, this was art.
Outside the studio, the others had no concern for art. They all realized that with Molochai, Jason, and Lissette out of action for a few days, they would need to increase their ranks, at least for the time being. Chuck looked around at his Sabbat brothers, contemplating who he should take with him on this membership drive. As Jonas was busy, Mac and Caitlin were out feeding, and Marie was unable to sire any childer, his choices were extremely limited. Finally, he rounded up Action Jackson, Jimmy the Greek, Huck, Linus, and Becca, and the group of them went off into the night. While they would probably not be seeing Julian Luna in the near future, they would have to prepare for the Brujah. Cameron's clan was the only one opposing the Sabbat that had thus far avoided any damage to their ranks. That would have to change.
VI
Julian Luna sat on the edge of his bed, looking down at his hands. They were both completely bandaged, the gauze extending all the way up to the prince's elbows. Underneath the bandages, he knew, was the burned flesh that resulted from a Molotov Cocktail thrown at him by Caitlin Byrne. Just days earlier, she had been his lover. Now, however, she was a member of the Sabbat. He found the concept almost impossible to comprehend. He had lost not only Caitlin to these enemies, though. He had also lost Frank. Thinking of Frank once again brought back images of Alexandra. He had failed in his oath to her, to protect the life of Frank Kohaneck. He had failed in protecting the life of Caitlin Byrne, his lover. Judging from the performance of his soldiers earlier that evening, he was also failing at keeping the Sabbat out of his territory. In every aspect of his life, he was failing. How long could it continue? He wondered. At some point, his luck would have to turn. Something would have to go his way.
A knock on the door brought him back to reality, and he looked up to see Lillie standing in the doorway. He gazed into her eyes, and saw there the sympathy that she had not displayed for decades. Long ago, when they had first gotten together, Julian had been enraptured by the look of compassion that Lillie showed to others. It had been unusual for one of her status and power to retain so much of her lost humanity. Over time, she, like everyone else in her position, lost that concern for those around her. Now, however, it seemed to have returned, and Julian remembered what it was he had seen in Lillie so many years ago.
"Are you ok?" she asked, still standing in the doorway. She was hesitant to enter the room, hesitant to invade his privacy. It had been awhile since she had been the most crucial element in the prince's private life. Caitlin Byrne had assumed the mantle of the prince's lover. Now, however, Caitlin was gone, and Lillie longed for a return to a happier time in her life. She longed for a return to the bed of Julian Luna. While most kindred lost their desire for mortal pleasures, Lillie retained them. She was able to use her vampiric abilities to heighten the physical pleasures she had felt as a mortal, and she had taught the skill to Julian. She truly wanted him back, to share the experience with him once more.
Julian simply continued to look at the Toreador primogen, unable to invite her into the room, but unwilling to send her away. While he wanted her to be with him, he felt that it would be presumptuous to expect her to come running back into his arms as soon as he was once again available. His recent failures had made him feel too uncertain of himself to expect anything from anyone.
"Do you mind if I come in?" Lillie asked, taking a tentative step into the room, closing the fine oak door behind her.
"No, please," Julian muttered. It almost seemed as if the same old pattern were beginning to repeat itself in his mind – Lillie's slow, aristocratic walk, her soft touch, her understanding words. Julian wondered how he could have pushed the seductive Toreador out of his life and still enjoyed any success. She was the perfect complement to the prince. She was ambitious but well grounded, caring yet ruthless when the situation demanded it, and wise beyond even her years. It felt good to have her back in his life.
Lillie climbed onto the bed behind him and started to rub his shoulders. "I'm so sorry for your losses, Julian," she said with true sympathy in her voice. "I'm still here for you if you need me. You know that, right?"
Julian arched his neck back to look at her, and slowly nodded. Lillie smiled and kissed Julian's neck, hoping to renew in full their old relationship. As he turned around and looked in Lillie's eyes, Julian let her know that he was also wishing to rekindle the passion of old.
Outside of Julian's room, however, forces were working against him. Travis walked through the halls, moving purposefully toward Sasha's room. He had finally gotten the chance to approach the prince's niece, to ask her if she would consider joining the Sabbat. He walked quickly past the study, where Rayce, Cameron, Matt, and Cash were all discussing possible strategies that could be used against the Sabbat invaders. Had he not had the stated orders to convert Sasha to their cause, Travis would have stayed outside the study, listening to the plans that were being set in motion against his comrades. The rest of the Sabbat would simply have to make due. They had done well enough so far.
Travis came to Sasha's door and knocked softly, hoping that she was still in. He had heard that the young Brujah was considering going out with her new friend Jenni, to help her learn how to feed more effectively. Travis was surprised that Julian had allowed Sasha to keep the childe. It was unlawful to create a child vampire, and Julian was condoning it by allowing Sasha to profit from it.
"Who is it?" he heard Sasha call out in response to his knock.
"Travis," he responded. Although he knew that Sasha might consider his visit unusual, they had talked enough over the past few months that she would probably let him visit for awhile.
Sasha opened the door and looked out at the Toreador antitribu, smiling cheerfully. "Come on in," she said with a flourish of her hand to accentuate her offer.
Travis walked in and immediately started looking around the room. Everything he had heard about Sasha's temper had apparently been true. There were large slashes in the walls, presumably from her claws, and most of the furniture was either brand-new or had obviously seen recent repair. Such was the way of the Brujah rage. It made them excellent warriors, but they were a double-edged sword, unable to be controlled by those that would attempt to make use of the Brujah ferociousness in battle.
"You have a few minutes to talk?" Travis asked, trying not to make it too obvious that he couldn't stop looking at the damage in the room.
"About what?" Sasha answered with a sly smile. Even after having lived as a vampire for a couple of years, her every expression betrayed the seductiveness that had been her most dominant feature as a mortal. She should never have been embraced Brujah, Travis thought. Of course, Sasha had been chosen by Julian and Cash to be Gangrel, but Travis felt that she might have been even better as a Toreador. She was full of passion.
"I just wanted to talk about your sire," Travis started. By the sudden look of anger that came over Sasha's face, Travis realized that he might have approached the subject in the completely wrong way. "What I meant," Travis continued, "is how you think you're doing in the Brujah clan right now."
"What do you mean?" Sasha asked, curious as to the Toreador's intentions in this line of questioning.
"Are you happy with the Brujah?" Travis asked. "I know that Cameron has made a lot of changes. He's trying to be all respectable now, as if he's above the tradition of the Brujah. He's trying to impose order on the clan. I always thought that Brujah treasured their freedom and individuality."
"We do," Sasha replied, obviously becoming agitated by the thought of Cameron's course of action. "At least, we did. I never liked Eddie Fiori, but at least he acted like a Brujah should. I always knew where I stood with him. Cameron and Rayce are trying to change us."
"Into what?" Travis asked. He could tell that Sasha was incredibly displeased with her situation, and he needed to play on that as much as he could. Sasha had to be brought over to the Sabbat. If they could take her away from Julian, he would have nothing left to support him. Geist believed that Julian's will would be broken without those closest to him, and if they broke his will, his city would be easy pickings.
"Rayce believes that we should express individuality on a intellectual level or something," Sasha answered. "It's like, we're supposed to be individuals, but still be responsible to the group. That's stupid, though. It doesn't work. You're either an individual, or you're part of the group. He doesn't understand that yet."
"You think he ever will?" Travis asked.
"Maybe as he gets older," Sasha replied. "I don't think Rayce has been around long enough to see the stuff that I have. He doesn't realize how important freedom can be." Travis simply smiled at this comment. There were rumors, apparently unknown to Sasha, that Rayce was at least a hundred years old already, and probably far older than that.
"Isn't Cameron the one in charge, though?" Travis asked, pushing Sasha further along the road he needed her to follow.
"In name only," Sasha answered. "I think he does a lot of the stuff, but he relies so much on Rayce's opinion, that Rayce pretty much makes all of the major decisions. It really sucks. I mean, Rayce is fun to hang out with, but he isn't good at making important decisions for the clan."
"So why don't you leave?" Travis asked. "If everything is different, if they don't appreciate you or let you live the life you want to, why don't you just check out?"
"Where would I go?" Sasha asked. "There's no one that would have me, unless of course I go to some anarch gang. Ooh, that sounds like fun." The sarcasm dripping from her words irritated the Toreador, but he knew he had to continue. His bishop had made it clear that he had no choice. He would simply have to ignore the fact that Sasha's every word grated against his nerves.
Travis looked around, making sure no one was listening, then he waited a couple of more moments as he listened for any sign that someone could be near. Confident that he was alone, he continued. "You could join the Sabbat," he suggested, his tone just serious enough so that Sasha knew he was not joking.
"They're monsters," Sasha retorted, once again her ire seeming to rise. "I would never join them."
"Why are they monsters?" Travis challenged the Brujah. "They are closer to each other than any of the vampires in the Camarilla are. Each pack is a family, and they all care for each other. If you fell in love with a Gangrel in the Sabbat, no one would ever have made you regret it." He looked for a reaction to this comment, as he knew that Sasha had never forgotten the pain that she had felt on a nightly basis for the first year after she had been embraced. He immediately saw what he was looking for – resentment toward her own clan. That is what would drive her toward the Sabbat.
"That's all different right now," Sasha answered. "I'm allowed to be with Cash."
"Yeah, but only at the cost of your freedom," Travis answered quickly. "In the Sabbat, you would be free to love who you wanted to, to live as you wanted to live. You would be loyal to your pack, and they would let you live a more free life."
Sasha's resolve lessened with every word. Travis was hitting all of the vital nerves that she had. Sasha began to question just how bad it would be to actually join the Sabbat, to try out their other way of living. She continued to listen to Travis, unaware that he was using his abilities against her. He was increasing his presence around her, keeping her focused on what he was saying. She was less likely to resist than she would have been had she been left to her own devices.
"The Sabbat came in here and started shooting stuff up," Sasha replied. "They're murderers. They killed Frank and a bunch of Gangrel. They embraced Caitlin and Jenni."
"Don't make like the Camarilla is a bunch of sweethearts," Travis responded. "Look at some of the stuff they've done. The Brujah embraced you against your will to get at Julian. Lillie conspired with Eddie to have Julian killed. Cameron killed Archon, because Archon had waged a war of genocide against the Brujah. The violence is par for the course when you're a vampire Sasha. Accept it, we do. Julian doesn't even allow for his people to accept what they are – vampires. He likes the word kindred. I guess that's supposed to be less scary for humans who find out what we are. What a crock of shit!"
"What do you mean 'we?' " Sasha asked. She had not missed the implications of Travis' words, even though she was still under his spell.
"I am Sabbat," Travis answered. "I am Toreador antitribu, a member of the antitribe. We stand against all the bullshit that the Camarilla espouses."
"You're Sabbat?" Sasha asked, unbelieving. "But you're Lillie's childe."
"Lillie's sire was antitribu," Travis answered. "Her brother, Shane, is also antitribu, as am I. Someday, Lillie will also accept her heritage and join the Sabbat. Do you understand, Sasha? You'd be siding with the winner."
Despite everything she had ever heard about the Sabbat, Sasha's resolve started to waver. She wondered if she would be able to hang out with them for just a little while, to get a feel for what they were really like. If she could do that, she would feel more comfortable with giving it a try. At that moment, though, Jenni walked into the room. Sasha looked away from Travis, setting her gaze on her new friend, and the horror of what she had been considering suddenly rushed onto her as she broke from Travis' spell.
"Get out, Travis," she warned, standing up and moving across the room next to her young friend. "I'm not going to join up."
"You don't know what you're missing," Travis answered.
"Yes I do," Sasha replied, her voice venomous. "I'm missing the chance to tear down everything my uncle has built. I'm missing the chance to torture my friends so that I can help you take their city. I'm missing the chance to embrace children, like you bastards did with Jenni."
"We don't embrace children," Travis answered. "At least not without good reason."
"Get out, or I'll scream for help," Sasha threatened. "When Cash comes to help me I'll tell him that you're Sabbat. Do you think you'd get out of here alive?"
"You don't need to repeat yourself," Travis replied, already moving toward the door. "I'll be seeing you around, Sasha," he said with a smile as he raced out the door.
Travis walked quickly down the hall, hoping to get out of the mansion before anyone found out what he had been doing there. However, the Toreador was so intent on getting out without Matt, Cameron, and Cash knowing he was ever there, that he did not notice a shadow peel away from the wall as he walked past, and begin to follow him through the hall and outside toward his car.
As Travis put the key into the door to unlock it, he suddenly heard a voice behind him.
"Going somewhere Travis?" The Toreador looked to his right and saw Johnny Yashida standing there, holding a fireman's axe. "Oh please, try something. I'd love to bury this axe in you skull, Travis."
The Toreador started to slowly back up, moving his hand to the pistol he had concealed in the small of his back. Before he could react, Johnny had moved into arm's reach and jammed the handle of the axe into Travis' gut. The Toreador was doubled over. Before he could draw the gun, he felt the barrel of Johnny's Beretta at his forehead.
"I may not be the best in Clan Telemon," Johnny said to Travis, "but I can still easily beat the piss out of some Toreador neonate. Get on you feet, we're gonna go talk to Matt." Johnny looked the Toreador over, measuring just how much fear he would be able to cause. "I'm sure Cameron and Cash would also like to hear about how you tried to recruit Sasha." Johnny added. He looked into Travis' eyes, and saw the sudden panic that his words had caused. "I don't know for sure, but I think you're going to be in a lot of trouble."
"If you let me go, I can make it worth your while," Travis said. "I've heard you like pretty things," the Toreador continued. "Rare gems, pieces of art... I can set you up with it. You just have to pretend you didn't hear anything."
"Unfortunately for you, Travis, I am more loyal to my clan than you are to yours," Johnny responded. The Telemon used his blood to silence the area around him, and then fired twice, shooting out both of the Toreador's kneecaps. He then slung Travis over his shoulder and carried him back inside the mansion, and into the study, where Rayce and the three primogen were meeting. Johnny dropped the Toreador on the floor in the middle of the room, and turned to his comrades.
"I bear gifts and ill tidings," Yashida said with a grim smile.
"What the hell are you doing?" Matt asked. "We're a little busy making strategy."
"Well, young Travis here has some news from the Sabbat," Johnny replied. "They're running an enlistment campaign right here in the prince's mansion. Isn't that right Travis?" he asked the Toreador as he kicked him in the ribs.
"That scum is working with the Sabbat?" Cameron asked. "You're dead, buddy."
"A couple of other things," Johnny added. "Tonight's choice recruit was none other than everyone's beloved Sasha. I'm sure at least three of you find that information valuable. Other points of interest are that Shane is also in the Sabbat. The whole line is Toreador antitribu." When he finished, Johnny turned toward the door and walked out.
"The whole line?" Cameron asked the three others. "Lillie is his sire," he added ominously. "Do you know what this means?"
"It means this neonate starts talking right now," Matt growled as he picked Travis off of the floor and sat him in a chair. "What do you have to say for yourself?"
Travis looked at the Telemon primogen, and was actually thankful that Matt was the one that was in his face. It was definitely preferable to having Cash threatening him. The Gangrel would probably skip questioning and go straight to torture. He had not seemed pleased when he heard that Travis had tried to recruit Sasha. Considering the situation, Travis decided that his best course of action would be to admit everything. After all, Sasha would most likely corroborate Johnny's story. If he could drive a wedge between Julian and Lillie, he would effectively take one of the clans out of the war. It was unfortunate that he would have to turn on his sire to achieve this goal, but she was weak, anyway. She had had her chance to join the Sabbat, and had refused. Now she would be made to regret that decision.
"Everything he said is true," Travis replied. "I demand to be brought to the prince for immediate judgement."
"No," Cash answered as he drew his knife and stroked it along Travis' face. "Julian doesn't see you until I'm personally sure that justice has been done."
"Back off Cash," Rayce said. "The prince needs to be made aware of this immediately. He is, after all, currently with the Toreador primogen. There's no telling what they're talking about."
Inside, Travis smiled. This would be too easy. Every vampire in the Camarilla was getting paranoid, the inevitable result of continually getting their asses kicked. They would crucify Lillie with no other voice but his own standing up in opposition to her.
"Keep an eye on him," Matt said as he strode out of the study and down the hall to Julian's bedroom. At the door, he knocked hard three times, and then broke the door open and walked in. In front of him was the sight that he had most feared. Julian was in bed with Lillie – sleeping with the enemy.
"What the hell are you doing?" Julian shouted at the Telemon primogen. "You had damn well have a good explanation for this!"
"We want to ask her a few questions," Matt responded angrily, pointing an accusing finger at Lillie.
"What for?" Julian asked. The purposefulness of the Telemon primogen caught Julian off guard. He was suddenly put on the defensive, even though he was the one whose territory had been invaded.
"We have her childe," Matt answered. "Johnny overheard Travis trying to get Sasha to join the Sabbat. He's Toreador antitribu, Julian. Just like his grandsire, and just like Shane."
Julian seemed to put the pieces together quickly, and he turned an accusing stare at Lillie. She seemed to shrink under his gaze. "Is this true, Lillie? What do you know about this?"
"It's all true, Julian," she replied. Inside she felt as if she were going to die the final death. She had just gotten back the one thing that was most valuable to her – her relationship with Julian. Now that was obviously going to crumble forever into dust. The one secret that she had been keeping for decades had finally leaked out. "I am not antitribu, though, Julian. My loyalty is to the Camarilla, and you."
"Clever words, bitch, but they won't work," Matt spat at her. Lillie moved slowly to get out of the bed, and in a lightning motion Matt had his MP5 pulled out from under his jacket, and trained right on the middle of her forehead.
"Put that away, Matt," Julian said tensely. He truly did not know whether or not Matt intended to kill Lillie right there.
"She is now an enemy of the Camarilla, Julian," Matt responded. "I would be in my rights to execute her here and now." Matt kept seeing the image of Barry's dead body flowing through his mind. For all he knew, Lillie had been the one to make it all possible. She had been at the compound once. Perhaps she had told her Sabbat friends what the security measures were.
"She has not been found guilty of anything, Matt," Julian responded, regaining his usual composure. "If you kill her, I will of course be within my rights to kill you."
Matt looked quickly at the prince, and saw immediately that he was serious. He lowered his gun, and allowed his senses to take over once again. Once he started to cool down, he realized that Julian was right. There was no proof yet against Lillie.
"Now let's go speak with Travis, shall we?" Julian asked. "Where is he, Matt?"
"The study," Matt replied. "We'll be waiting for you there." Matt left the room so that Lillie and Julian could get dressed. He went back to the study and joined Rayce, Cameron, and Cash in glaring at Travis. The Toreador could not shake the feeling that he would not live out the night.
It was not long before Julian and Lillie walked into the room. Rayce looked the Toreador primogen over from head to toe, and noted with approval that despite the dangerous position in which she found herself, she seemed to still be in control of the situation. She was, as always, elegantly dressed, and the cold, powerful look that was to be found in her eyes was as defiant as ever.
"Well Travis," Julian said as he came to stand before the chair in which the young Toreador was sitting, "I've been hearing some interesting things about you. I'm sure you've heard. What do you have to say for yourself?"
Travis looked up at the prince, and fought to banish all fear from his mind. He would die, and he knew it. He just wanted to make sure that his enemies did not derive the satisfaction of knowing that he had feared death. "I admit it all," Travis stated. "I am a member of the Sabbat. I am Toreador antitribu, like my grandsire, and like my blood-uncle, Shane. I tried to recruit Sasha, but she was unwilling."
"You know what this means for you, don't you?" Julian asked, no trace of sympathy to be heard in his voice.
"I don't fear death," he responded.
"Give him to me Julian," Cash pleaded. "He may not fear death, but he'll sure as hell fear living for any longer by the time the Gangrel are done with him. The Sabbat drew first blood against my clan. We should get to take vengeance against this spy."
"Telemon has also suffered loss," Julian replied coldly, "as has the Ventrue clan."
"Clan Telemon is willing to have the Gangrel punish this one," Matt stated. "The Gangrel have suffered the greater loss, and I'm sure Cash will be more... vigorous... in his pursuit of vengeance." Deep inside, a part of Matt's being almost pitied Travis. He could only imagine the pain that the most bestial of the clans would inflict on this traitor.
"So be it," Julian responded. "He's all yours, Cash."
"What about her?" Cameron asked, gesturing to Lillie.
"We have no evidence against her," Julian replied. He looked at Lillie and weighed the possible danger that she could pose. "Lillie, you will stay within the walls of my mansion at all times until the situation is resolved," Julian said to the Toreador primogen. "As for the rest of you, no one is to speak to her, no one is to look at her. Make certain that everyone in your clans is aware of this. She is under the strictest of probations." He turned and looked at Lillie once more, some compassion finally showing in his face. "I'd like to believe that you are not involved with the Sabbat, Lillie. Let your actions prove it."
Lillie sat in a leather chair in a corner, hoping that everything that had just occurred was some kind of a bad dream. Every passing moment made that less likely, however.
"One last thing, Lillie," Julian added. "What do you know about Shane?"
"He's in on it all with them," she muttered in response.
Julian looked at her intently for several moments. He found it hard to believe that she had hidden that fact from him. The fact that her blood brother had joined the Sabbat was a crucial piece of information.
He looked at the other kindred in the room, and gave one last order. "A blood hunt is hereby called for Shane. When he is found, he will be destroyed, his blood used to strengthen the rest of us." Matt looked at Julian in disbelief. The edict gave permission for the destroyer of Shane to diablerize him. By doing so, the one that carried out Julian's edict would be made more powerful. Matt tossed around the possible benefits. Shane was of a generation equal to Lillie, he knew that, and he was fairly certain that Lillie was more powerful than he was. There were definite advantages to destroying this enemy of Julian's – greater power would be gained.
CHAPTER 5
I
Johnny got out of his Mustang and picked Michelle's bag out of the back seat. He glanced across at her in the passenger's seat, still refusing to get out of the car. He then looked up as he heard another jet take off overhead, painfully reminding him that Michelle would soon be on one of those departing planes.
"You can't make me go, Johnny," Michelle complained. "I want to stay. If you think I'm going to leave you alone in a city besieged by the Sabbat, you're out of your mind. We've gone through this already."
"And I already told you I'm not alone," Johnny replied. "Matt's still here."
"Yeah, and aren't we so damn privileged that he finally considers you good enough to talk to again," Michelle shot back. "He's only keeping you around because we've been going out every night, stealing everything in this city that's worth anything. We're the ones financing his war against the Sabbat. He has no other use for you."
"He's my childe and my clanmate," Johnny replied, losing any sign of good humor that he may have otherwise had around his friend. "I have to stand by him."
"You're not cut out for this, Johnny," Michelle said, trying a different tactic. "You won't survive this siege."
"I'm better than most people give me credit for," Johnny replied as he walked over to her door and opened it. "Please, Michelle. I have to join the rest of my clan in this war. Paying their bills for the weapons isn't enough, and I can't fight if I'm worried about what's happening to you."
"Oh, now you're concerned about me," Michelle responded sarcastically. "Only now, as you pack me onto a plane for Columbus, do you admit any level of caring for me."
"Michelle, this is not open to debate," Johnny said sternly. "Get out of the car and get walking into that terminal. I need to know you're safe before I go risking my own life."
Michelle got out of the car reluctantly and walked into the airport, Johnny following behind at a leisurely pace. He hated the thought of not having her around, but at the same time, he needed to devote all of his time and energy to the preservation of his clan. The presence of Clan Telemon in San Francisco was a major step for them, and they needed to survive. Besides, if they could force the Sabbat out of this city, word might get back to Siras' city of State College, Pennsylvania, that the Telemon were not to be trifled with. That would free Siras up to expand his power even more.
The two kindred walked into the airport and quickly arrived at the baggage scanner. Johnny flashed a fake badge and used his abilities to dominate the mind of the mortal security guard, avoiding any inconvenient hassles as he walked through with his two Berettas. They arrived at Michelle's gate to find that the flight was already boarding. Johnny realized how close his friend had come to actually dragging her feet enough to miss her flight.
Michelle took her bag from Johnny, and then dropped it to the floor and grabbed him in a tight embrace.
"Don't get killed, Johnny," she said, slightly sobbing. "Life would be too boring without you."
Johnny looked at her for a long moment, and then squeezed her back, trying to find the best words to say. "I hate good-byes," he finally muttered.
"It's not goodbye," Michelle answered. "It's just until a little later."
"Yeah," Johnny agreed, starting to choke up on his words. How could he tell her that he did not plan on ever leaving this city alive, that he expected to die in this siege? She did not understand just how desperate the situation had gotten. "Now get going. You're going to miss your flight."
"I'll call you tomorrow night, when I get in to State College," Michelle said with a strained smile. She gave Yashida a passionate kiss that surprised the Telemon, and then she ran off to board the plane. Johnny turned and began to walk to another gate, wiping away the thin streak of blood that was trickling from his eye.
He quickened his pace to get to Gate A17, and saw Dmitri waiting for him, as they had planned. Johnny's childe had come to the airport earlier to look for any ambush that may have been set by the Sabbat. They were taking no chances with the guests they had coming into the city that night.
"All quiet on the western front?" Johnny asked.
"Da," Dmitri answered. "I have seen neither hair nor hide of those Sabbat bastards. Looks like they had no idea we are getting some assistance."
"Good," Johnny answered. He looked around the terminal nervously, trying to convince himself that they would get out without having to shoot up the place. Recently, that had become a big problem. Virtually everywhere he went he was jumped by either the Sabbat or the random anarchs that had filtered into the city, also looking to overthrow the prince. It was starting to get rather tiresome.
After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the two Telemon saw people coming from Gate A17, alerting them to the fact that the passengers were getting off of the plane. Johnny looked closely at every passenger coming into the terminal. Though he had gotten a general physical description of the clanmates that were arriving, he had never met any of them. Moments later, though, he was sure that he knew who they were.
Three people came out of the tunnel together – two men and one woman. Their appearance was enough to let Yashida know who they were. Brett Taylor led the group. He stood slightly above six feet tall and was heavily muscled. He wore city combat fatigues with a black Army Ranger beret on his head. In his right hand he carried a large duffel bag, which Johnny was sure carried enough firepower to level a building.
On Brett's right was Angelica Black, Marcus' first childe. Her fiery red hair and fair complexion betrayed her Irish heritage, a heritage that she had fought for in the IRA. She was supposedly the best explosives expert that Marcus had ever met. Her non-military background was evident, as she simply wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a wool sweater.
On Brett's left was his own first childe, Daniel McLaughlin. Daniel wore a stylish, custom-tailored suit and a gray raincoat. He wore the coat well enough so that it only slightly betrayed the presence of the shotgun he carried underneath. Daniel was an ex-FBI field agent. He had been selected for the clan not only for his combat experience, but also for the government contacts and classified information to which he had access.
Brett seemed to see Johnny as well, recognizing him from a picture that Marcus had shown him. He led his two clanmates over to Yashida, and nodded his head quickly to his elder. "You are Yashida?" he asked.
"Let's go," Johnny answered, already starting toward the exit. Once they were moving, he turned back to the newcomers and started up a conversation. "Call me Johnny," he said with a thin smile. "This is Dmitri Vadislav, my childe." Dmitri nodded to the other three, and they returned the formality.
"Exactly how bad is it out here, Johnny?" Angelica asked "Marcus said if we didn't get out here soon, you would probably lose the city."
"Looks that way," Johnny answered grimly. "When the Sabbat first came into San Francisco, we were almost completely unprepared. We still haven't won a single decisive victory against them, and it's been a couple of weeks now. They embrace new vampires almost every night, and send them at us right away."
"So this is causing you losses you can't replace, while they replenish their own ranks with ease," Daniel concluded. "Sounds like typical Sabbat tactics."
"Yeah," Johnny affirmed. "Most of the Gangrel are destroyed, and the ones that are still alive are planning to leave. All except for their primogen, that is. Cash will stay and fight to the death along with Julian."
"Brave man," Brett commented. "That's the kind of ally that I like to have at my side."
"The brave are always the first to die," Angelica commented. Brett looked at her with irritation, but then returned to the conversation, hoping to get all of the information he needed before meeting Matt.
"What else can you tell me?" Brett asked Yashida.
"The biggest problem is Julian himself," Johnny replied. "The prince seems to be completely burned out. He's lost far too much." Johnny proceeded to tell them the story of Frank and Caitlin, finishing just as they reached the Mustang.
"You drive around in a convertible?" Brett asked incredulously. "That isn't exactly safe."
"No," Johnny agreed. "But it's a lot more fun that being cooped up in a Hummer like Matt. You can say what you want about my Mustang, but this is only the second car I've had during the siege. He's already on his fourth Humvee. The Sabbat keeps blowing them up."
As Johnny tore out through the parking lot, heading as quickly as possible for the highway, Brett started the questions again. "So what about the Tremere?" he asked. "I heard they weren't even involved in the fighting."
"Oh, they're involved," Johnny answered with a grin. "They just don't want to be too visible out there. A war party has been called against them, and both packs are competing for the head of Patrick Collins, the Tremere primogen. He's a Sabbat's wet dream. All they can think about is diablerizing him and using his abilities against the Camarilla."
"You said Julian's effectiveness is waning," Angelica said, interrupting. "Is there anyone else that could take power away from him. A strong leader is necessary in a siege."
"Lillie would have been the most likely candidate," Johnny answered. "She's the Toreador primogen, but she's suspected of possibly being a Sabbat sympathizer. No one would accept her as prince. After her, though, no one is fit for the role of leading the clans. Daedalus could, if he weren't completely uninterested in the idea. Patrick is old and strong enough, but he doesn't have enough contacts yet. Cameron, Cash, and Matt are too young and inexperienced, and in addition Matt isn't even a part of one of the founding clans. Julian is all we really have."
"We might have to find a way to make that change," Daniel shouted out from the back seat, barely being heard over the sound of the wind. "We can't take any chances on trying to win with a weak prince."
"We'll see what happens," Johnny replied. "In any event, it should be fun."
II
Jonas looked down at the twisted form that had once been known as Theo. Now he was little more than a mass of deformed, misshapen flesh. The transformation of Theo's visage had been Jonas' most ambitious project to date, but it had ended in failure. Still, the Toreador thought to himself, it was not a complete loss. He had learned quite a great deal about the human form. Next time he would succeed in his efforts.
Jonas walked out of his studio and into the large room that was being used for all of the Sabbat gatherings, taking a brief moment to look around at each of the vampires that were there. Molochai, as usual, was busy cleaning a gun. Jason and Sandra were playing chess. Mac and Caitlin were busy lighting matches and watching them burn. Chuck and Sue were reading what appeared to be Shakespeare, and Jimmy was of course looking over the spreads in that evening's basketball games.
"I'm done with him," Jonas announced to the group. "He's all yours."
In one uniform motion everyone in the room rose to their feet and eagerly went into the study, looking at Theo lying on the table, the stake still holding him in place. "Revive him, Sandra," Chuck said to his Tremere friend. "We'll go get some toys to play with." At that the group left, allowing Sandra to work her art in privacy.
The Tremere went into the room and pulled a flask of blood of blood out of the refrigerator. She then went to the table and pulled the stake out of the Gangrel's chest. As she had thought, he did not instantly revive, having burned off all of his blood while in torpor. She poured some of the blood into his mouth, and started to work some of her blood magic on him. She continued chanting the words to an archaic Tremere ritual for over twenty minutes, and he then awoke, realizing his predicament immediately.
"Wet me go," he said through his deformed mouth. He was no longer able to pronounce his words correctly, so extensive was the damage caused by Jonas' body sculpting.
"Not quite yet," Sandra responded. "My friends want to have a little fun with you first." She circled around the table where he was still shackled down, and began to slowly caress his face with back of her hand. "Do you know what my associate did to you?" she asked, her voice completely cold and uncaring. "He made you a freak. Can you even feel my hand against your skin? Did he at least leave you the ability to retain physical sensations?"
Theo rolled his eyes down as far as he could, and saw that she was in fact touching him. He could not feel it, though, at least not the way he used to. It was almost as if there was a layer of leather on his skin that she was actually touching. He could sense her touch through that, but it was not accurate to say that he actually felt it. A moment later, Theo realized that something else was terribly wrong. As he looked down at his face, as well as he could, he noticed that his nose was not there. It seemed to be smashed down and spread across his face. He would need a mirror to tell for sure, but he was quickly understanding the extent of the damage that Jonas had caused to his body.
"I am Tremere," Sandra said to the Gangrel. "I'm sure that you know what that means I would be capable of doing to you." She looked into the Gangrel's eyes and saw that he understood – he was in complete fear of her clan. "Good," she continued with a smile. "My friends will be harsh enough with you Theo, but I will leave you alone, provided you give me a little bit of information."
The Gangrel glared up at her, defiant even in his present condition. Tremere or not, he would be damned if he would give her any information that could help her defeat his clanmates.
"I have heard that there are but two Tremere in the city's chantry," Sandra said. "All I want to know from you is whether or not that is true."
Theo stared at her, seemingly unwilling to budge. Inside his eyes, though, she could see that he was considering her offer. "I promise you," she said, "that should the others get too enthusiastic in their attempts to torture you, I will kill you quickly. I will help you avoid the pain. I only ask for information about the Tremere. I'm not asking you to betray your own clan, Theo."
Theo thought about her words for a moment. He knew that he would never make it out of this warehouse. The Sabbat would torture him to death for their amusement. The pain would be terrible. As far as he knew, it was common knowledge that there were only two Tremere in the city. He was surprised that she did not actually know that. Apparently, she suspected that there was more to the Tremere than met the eye. Suddenly, the sound of shouting came from outside the room. The others were coming in to have their fun.
"This is your last chance, Theo," Sandra said to him, her eyes now portraying a cold sympathy for his plight. "Tell me, and I will release you when it gets too painful."
"Onwy two," Theo muttered from his lipless mouth. He looked at Sandra intently, hoping that she would indeed hold up her end of the bargain. The look of satisfaction and resolve that she displayed was enough to convince him that she had every intention of keeping sticking to their agreement. The satisfaction that Theo felt was short lived, however, as the door to the studio was thrown open and the Sabbat walked in.
"Well, where do we start?" Chuck asked, as he looked the Gangrel over. He noticed immediately the extent to which Jonas had failed with this particular specimen. Even the Nosferatu were generally not as repulsive.
"I have an idea," Molochai said as he walked around Theo. He pulled out two five-inch daggers and plunged them into the Gangrel's knees, impaling them on the wooden tabletop. Theo screamed out in pain, knowing that there would be no response to his cry.
"I have a better idea," Sue said as she went to Theo's side and grabbed his left hand. The Nosferatu looked at Theo's twisted visage and felt only a slight pang of pity. He had been able to be attractive as a vampire for a short time, while she had never had that luxury. His appearance now would do nothing to soften her heart. She grabbed a pair of wire cutters from a bag lying on the floor, and started to gaze at the Gangrel's fingers. "It's time to play this little piggy," she said to her comrades, grinning ear to ear.
"This little piggy went to the market," she said as she grabbed Theo's thumb and cut it off with the wire cutters. The Gangrel cried out in pain, but quickly silenced himself, allowing himself to only wince with every following cut. He did not want to give them any pleasure in their work. "This little piggy stayed home," she continued, taking off the index finger. She then grabbed the middle finger and placed it in the wire cutter. "This little piggy ate roast beef," she muttered, following it with a quick snip. "And this little piggy had none," she said, displaying the ring finger for all of her friends to see. She then cut that off as well. "And this little piggy," she concluded, holding up Theo's pinky," cried 'wee, wee, wee, wee' all the way home." Rather than cut the finger off as she finished, she dipped the digit in a small jar of acid, allowing the finger to melt away. This was more than Theo could bear, and he screamed out in anguish, much to the delight of his onlookers.
"You know what I don't like about the Camarilla?" Chuck asked as he dug into the bag. "It's that they act so high and mighty, as if nothing can touch them, but inside they're more afraid of things than we are. Isn't that right, Mac?" he asked as he turned to the Malkavian. He tossed him a can of barbecue lighter fluid. "What do you think they're afraid of most?"
"Fire," the crazed vampire responded, his eyes glazing over with delight as he walked over to Theo. He poured the lighter fluid all over the Gangrel's left hand, grinning madly the whole time.
"Hey," Caitlin shouted. "Can't we at least show a little bit of heart?" Each of the vampires looked toward the newest member of their ranks with an unbelieving stare. Up until that point, Caitlin had seemed as bloodthirsty as any of the others. Calls for mercy left the vampires from each pack somewhat confused. "Yeah, help that Gangrel out," Caitlin continued, beginning to smile. "He could bleed to death from those cut-off fingers. We should cauterize the wounds!"
Mac looked up at his childe with sudden approval as he took a step back from Theo's body. He then lit a match and tossed it onto the Gangrel's hand, the bare flesh igniting instantly with the aid of the lighter fluid. Theo shrieked in terror and agony as the flames seared his skin. Within moments, he had passed out from the pain, and the Sabbat were left with an unconscious Camarilla vampire and the sickening stench of charred flesh.
"Wake him up," Chuck said once more to Sandra. Though she had promised to spare the Gangrel any unnecessary pain, she also did not want to deprive her packmates of any of their fun. She knew it would only get worse, and it would be then that she would make good on her word. She walked over to the refrigerator once more and pulled out some blood, and got a beer bong from a cabinet in the corner. She then forced a bit of the blood down the Gangrel's throat while Molochai smacked Theo in the face to revive him. Within moments, Theo had reawakened to face his captors.
"Hey, did you guys ever see Reservoir Dogs?" Molochai asked his friends. The Tzimisce looked over at the Gangrel, and began taunting him. "I don't care what you know, I'm gonna torture you anyway." He reached down into his boot and cheerily produced a straight razor as he danced over to Theo. "Well, I don't know why I came here tonight," he began to sing cheerily as he approached the Gangrel. "I got the feeling that something ain't right," he continued as he leaned over the Gangrel's face. He suddenly stopped singing as he sliced into Theo's ear, taking it from the side of the Gangrel's head. "Hey, can you hear this?" he asked into the ear, holding up like a trophy for all to see. Everyone in the room began clapping in appreciation for Molochai's homage to Reservoir Dogs.
Chuck then stepped up next to the captive Gangrel, and leered at him with a look of pure hatred. "You weak Gangrel piece of shit," he said to Theo. "The City Gangrel are far tougher than you could ever hope to be." Without another word he raised a corkscrew and drove it into Theo's eye, popping the organ like a grape. Theo once again screamed out as Chuck took a step back. "Anyone else have any ideas?"
"I do," Jimmy offered. "It also has an opportunity for us to place a few wagers."
"What is it?" Chuck asked, obviously interested.
"Let's boil him in oil. We can take wagers on how long it will take for him to pass out from the pain."
"Boil him in oil?" Chuck asked dubiously. "How exactly are we supposed to go about doing this?"
"Get Linus and Marie to build a big kettle, and we'll get a few of the others to go get some Wesson or something. It'll be great. Then we can drop the body off somewhere the rest of the Gangrel will find it."
"That's too cruel," Molochai commented. "I love it!"
"Ok," Chuck agreed. "We'll find Linus and Marie, and get them started on the kettle. Then we'll have Becca go get the oil."
"What'll we do in the meantime?" Sue asked.
"Well," Chuck began. "I was always fond of celebrating holidays. Let's go trick or treating."
"It's not Halloween," Caitlin put in.
"Never stopped us before," Molochai replied with a wink. "Let's go."
III
Julian sat at the head of the table once again, looking over his primogen. He began to wonder how many more times they would all meet like this. With the way the war against the Sabbat was continuing, he had little hope for victory. Had the Sabbat been the only threat, they may still have been able to emerge alive. However, as word had spread around California that it appeared as if Julian Luna were finally going to fall, several packs of anarchs had come into the city. Between the anarchs and the soldiers of the Sabbat, it all seemed a hopeless cause. They would not be able to hold out much longer, and part of the prince no longer cared. The Sabbat might have been close to taking the city from him, but he had been all but completely defeated weeks before. The only things that seemed to keep Julian going were Sonny, Daedalus, and his thirst for vengeance.
"Well," he began, "let's get this over with. I'm sure we all have other things to do this evening." He of course referred to the endless fighting that had become the most constant variable in their lives, though he did not care to go into the details. Everyone looked weary from the constant battles.
"My clan is talking like they're going to call it quits, Julian," Cash said. "I, of course, will stay and fight, but they can all find homes in other cities. Besides, it's generally not like us to stay in any one place for very long, anyway. I guess it was just a matter of time."
"I understand," Julian responded. He would have ordinarily seen the loss of the Gangrel as a major blow to the defense of the city, but the fact of the matter was that there was only a handful of Gangrel left. A few less at this point would make little difference.
"Matt?" Julian began, "I hope you have some slightly better news."
"Oh, we're just getting started," Matt replied, his voice betraying his desire to get back out on the streets and continue the fighting. "I'm bringing in some outside help, and we're gonna beat the hell out of the Sabbat. They haven't seen anything yet." The confidence and energy that Matt conveyed seemed to be contagious, as everyone at the table sat up a little straighter, their eyes a little brighter.
"Please, Matt, try to keep in mind that we don't want to go destroying large parts of the city at a time," Julian said wearily. The prince leaned forward, placing his face in his hands and rubbing his temples for a few moments. "I would like to not turn my city into something resembling Prohibition-era Chicago."
"Would you prefer that it resemble modern-era New York?" Matt asked. The question was as pointed as it could have been. New York was, of course, the capital of all Sabbat activity in the New World. The Camarilla had been able to hold a great deal of influence in the city, but for the most part it was regarded as a Sabbat city. Matt knew that this was a fate that Julian did not desire for his home of so many decades.
"I suppose not," Julian replied. "You make a good point. Simply try to not attract so much attention that it becomes completely impossible to defend the Masquerade. My people can only dominate so many policemen, politicians, reporters, and judges." The prince turned away from Matt and toward Cameron, wanting to quickly get his conversation with the Brujah primogen over with. "What about your clan, Cameron?" the prince asked.
"The Brujah can still hold out," Cameron answered. "This is getting a little expensive, though, Julian. We would appreciate it if you could help fund this war we're fighting for you."
"I'll transfer half a million dollars to your Pierce Street Annex account," Julian said, nodding. "Just put it in the books as an investment on my part to become your partner."
"Thank you," Cameron answered, "but I have some other concerns to raise."
"What?" Julian asked, though he felt he already knew what the Brujah was going to say.
"We're losing, Julian, and it's all your fault," Cameron replied. "The Brujah don't wish to follow you any longer." The Brujah primogen sat back in his chair, waiting for the prince's reaction, though he was fairly certain that part of it would entail the revocation of the offer of money. He would simply be forced to take the money from the Telemon, who had also offered to help out the Brujah.
Though he expected a challenge to his authority, Julian was completely shocked by the outright denial of his leadership. Cameron had to know that if they all drifted apart at this time, each clan would be easy pickings for their enemies. "What exactly did you have in mind, Cameron?" Julian asked. "Are you finally making your move to become prince?"
"I now have the strongest clan in the city," Cameron shot back. "No one else even comes close."
"My clan will not follow a Brujah prince," Daedalus said immediately. "You would not have our support in this war."
"Your pathetic clan isn't doing anything in this war," Cameron replied. "Go ahead, walk away, see if I care."
"Actually," Julian interrupted, "Daedalus' clan has been involved in the fighting for the past week. They have killed about a dozen kindred that have been using the sewers as a daytime haven, and as a means of undetected movement."
Cameron did not know how to answer this, as he had been under the impression that only the Brujah, Telemon, Ventrue, and Gangrel had been doing any fighting. Of course, the Tremere had taken part in a couple of battles, but they spent so much time hiding in their chantry that they could hardly be considered participants in this war.
"I will follow him," Patrick said, adding new impetus to Cameron's cause. With the Tremere supporting the Brujah, Julian would have to take this attempted coup very seriously.
"What do you think?" Cameron asked Matt.
"I think you're a fool Cameron," Matt replied. "Just when you were getting a reputation as a fairly sensible Brujah, for what little that's worth, you go and commit a political blunder worthy of Eddie Fiori. Clan Telemon will not follow you."
"The best chance lies with the Brujah," Cameron answered. "You're a soldier, you have to realize that."
"Yes, I agree that the best chance lies with the Brujah," Matt said slowly, allowing everyone to ponder the meaning of his every word. "However, the best chance is not with the Brujah with you as their primogen. If you put someone with a brain in charge of your clan, we'll follow."
"You son of a bitch!" Cameron spat, standing up from his chair. "You can't speak to me like that!" He glared at Matt, waiting for the Telemon to make a move. Instead, the Telemon primogen simply looked up at him, apparently not at all impressed by Cameron's tirade. Matt's lack of response only served to enrage Cameron more. "You think you can run this war any better than I can?"
"Is this a trick question?" Matt replied, sarcasm dripping from every word. "What the hell do you think my clan does? We're soldiers, and you're thugs. We could most certainly run this war better than anyone else can."
"Then do it," Julian said, interrupting the exchange between the two primogen. Every eye at the table suddenly turned to the prince, and Matt felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. By offending Cameron, he had not meant to slight Julian. Apparently, Julian had taken offense to Matt's comments.
"That's not what I meant," Matt quickly said, trying to cover himself immediately.
"I know," Julian said, barely managing a smile. "At least until there's a complete rebellion by the primogen, I am still the prince. I'm naming you my general. Go out there and do what you supposedly do best. I can't take this anymore. Besides, there are other matters that desperately need my attention."
"Like what?" Cash asked. He was very uncomfortable with the tactic that Julian was using to keep control of the city. He was delegating all of the military authority of the prince into the youngest of the primogen.
"In case any of you haven't heard, the mayor has declared a curfew for the city," Julian answered. "This is not good for business. If this keeps up, they might consider instituting martial law. And if you guys think that the Inquisition hasn't noticed this war, then you're out of your minds. There are federal agents all over the city, investigating the numerous disappearances and shootings. I think it's safe to say we've done enough to endanger the Masquerade. I have to repair the damage."
"The Nosferatu find this to be an acceptable compromise," Daedalus said. "Does anyone disagree?" No one at the table seemed to find fault with Julian's delegation of the war to Matt, and they all began to get up and exit the room.
Once out of the room, Matt began to walk quickly down the hall and then outside to his parked Humvee. Standing next to the vehicle was Rayce. As soon as the Brujah saw Matt, he smiled. "So, did it work?" he asked.
"Just like you said it would," Matt replied, seemingly bewildered with everything that had just happened. "I don't think Cameron was too pleased, though. He seemed to take everything personally."
"I'll remind him that it was all part of the plan," Rayce said with a smile. "If he was really angry at you, it just made everything all that more convincing. So what now?"
"Come out to the compound," Matt replied. "I'll introduce you to the others before I send them out."
"What do you have in mind for your clanmates?" Rayce asked.
"I'm gonna turn them loose on all of the anarchs," Matt said. "Johnny has been spending time with a bunch of the gangs, so he knows exactly where they all are. We're just going to blow them all up and be done with it."
"Nothing like subtlety," Rayce said with a smile. "I'll see you out there."
Matt got into the Hummer and drove down the driveway, amazed at how accurate Rayce's prediction of Julian's reaction was. They had managed to make the prince think that Cameron had been staging a coup, so that he delegated control to clan Telemon. That had been the goal the whole time. None of them had been seriously interested in losing Julian's power and influence as the prince – it would be crucial when it came time to put everything back together after the war. For now, though, they wanted a soldier in charge, and like everyone said, fighting is what clan Telemon did best.
IV
Becca and Jackson led the way up to the front door of the suburban home, both vampires on the edge of hysterical laughter as they rang the door bell. Becca looked back at the rest of her friends, appraising the costumes that they had chosen. She and Jackson were dressed up as Raggedy Anne and Andy. Chuck was dressed up like Chewbacca, and Molochai and Jimmy the Greek both wore cone-shaped Birthday party hats. Caitlin wore a fireman's coat and carried a fireman's axe, while her sire wore a priest's black suit and white collar. Sue, predictably enough, was not wearing a mask, her hideous appearance as a Nosferatu more than making up for the lack of a costume. After a few moments, an old man answered the door.
"Trick or treat!" they all yelled in unison, holding out plastic grocery store bags, eagerly awaiting any candy that the man might give them.
"Halloween was a month ago," the old man replied, looking them all over. "Why don't you kids get running along?"
"We said trick or treat you son of a bitch!" Caitlin yelled at the man. "Now give me some damn candy!"
"I'm calling the cops," the man said, pulling the door shut. Before he could close the door completely though, Jackson stuck his foot in the doorway, preventing the old man from escaping them. Becca pushed the door open and strode inside, appraising the house.
"Well, if you don't want to give us candy, that's fine," she assured the man. "We do get to play a trick on you, though." The man broke into a half-run into the kitchen, hoping to get to the phone so that he could call the police. Before he could reach the phone, though, Molochai ran after him and slide-tackled the old man, dropping him to the floor. The sickening sound of a broken bone accompanied the impact of the man's hip on the floor.
"Oh no, you fall down go boom," Molochai said with a wide grin. The Tzimisce then started to look through the cabinets for any candy. He heard the rest of the Sabbat vampires going through the house as he continued his search, oblivious to the cries of pain coming from the man on the floor.
"Oh, kitty, kitty, kitty," he heard Caitlin saying from the living room in the most friendly voice she could muster. "Ow, you little bastard!" he heard her yell a moment later.
Molochai took a few steps over into the living room and looked at Caitlin, who was holding the cat up by the neck. "The bastard scratched me," she said to the Tzimisce.
"What did you expect?" he asked her. "You're a predator invading its territory. It's gonna get a little salty."
"I'll show it salty!" Caitlin exclaimed as she went into the kitchen. She walked right up to the microwave and threw the cat inside, then set it for thirty minutes on high.
"No!" the old man squealed from the floor. "Let my cat go. It's the only family I have left."
"Maybe you should have thought of that when you didn't give us any candy," Molochai replied, kicking the man in the ribs.
"I don't have any candy," the man muttered on the floor. "I'm diabetic."
"Well why didn't you say so?" Jimmy asked as he walked into the kitchen. "Let's get going, guys, we've bothered this man enough for one evening. He doesn't have any candy for us."
"Sure," Molochai answered. "This place sucks, anyway. It smells like old people."
Molochai yelled for the others, and they all walked out of the house, leaving the man on the floor and the cat in the microwave. They walked over to the next house, this time with Mac and Sue ringing the doorbell. After about a minute, a middle-aged woman answered the door. In the background, they could all hear a dog barking madly.
"Trick or treat," they all said again. The woman looked at them for a few brief moments, and then took a few steps back.
"It's a little late for trick or treat kids, and you look a little old, but what the hell." She retreated into the back of the house, and returned a minute later with a bag of Milky Ways. "You might as well have these," she said. "If I don't give them to you, my husband's just going to eat them. He should probably watch his diet a little more."
"Yeah," Mac said, agreeing with her. "If you don't have your health, you don't have anything." They took the candy and moved on to the next house, knowing that they would probably have a greater chance there to pull a trick on the owner. The sound of loud music was coming from an open window on the second floor, and they could hear a couple of people laughing just inside the front door.
Once again, Mac and Sue went up to the front door. A man in his late teens answered the door, taking a moment to look them all over. "What the hell are you guys supposed to be?" he asked.
"We're trick or treating," Mac answered with a wide-eyed grin.
"Get lost you weirdoes," the man said, slamming the door quickly in their faces.
"What an asshole," Caitlin commented. She raised the fireman's axe and swung it at the door. After a couple of hits, the lock was knocked out of the doorframe. They all then proceeded to walk in.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" the man who had answered the door asked. "Get your sorry asses out of my house, this is a private party."
"Here's Katie!" Caitlin said, giggling, as she wielded the axe maniacally.
"Tell me something," Mac said, stepping forward and taking attention away from his childe. "How many people are here?"
"Eight," the man replied instantly, his eyes somewhat glazed over.
"Recruiting time," Chuck said as he led the vampires through the house. He could not believe his luck at stumbling upon what appeared to be a group of college students having a party. Eight neonates embraced in the prime of their lives. They would make excellent shock troops.
After about an hour, the whole group was getting ready to leave, when there came a voice yelling from the front door. "Police!" the man yelled. "Is anybody home?"
Within moments Becca was at the door, greeting their unexpected visitors. It was only then that she noticed the emergency lights from the ambulance a couple of doors down, where the group had started their evening's excursion. She could hear the man sobbing pitifully about his cat as he was wheeled out on a stretcher. "Wow, what happened?" she asked innocently.
"We have reports of a group of kids going around playing trick or treat," the cop responded. "Have you seen anything?"
"Yeah," Becca replied with a smile. "A few guys came up and asked us for candy."
"Did you see where they went?" the cop asked.
"They're back in the den," Becca replied with a smile. "Are they in trouble or something?"
The cop called out for his partner to join him, and they both walked into the house cautiously. "Where exactly is the den?" the first one asked.
"Right down that hall," Becca answered, motioning for the policeman to continue on in his present direction. They both continued slowly, and a moment later were jumped by four Sabbat vampires. The first officer managed to get one shot off, but the other was quickly put down and drained. After every drop of their blood was gone, Chuck and Sue gave each of them a little back, bringing both policemen into the ranks of the Sabbat.
They all waited another few minutes for the ambulance to finally leave, and then took off. Chuck led the whole group of new recruits down the sidewalk to their waiting van, while Becca and Caitlin looked eagerly at the squad car that had belonged to their newest recruits.
"Chuck," Becca called. "Can we play blue-light bandits? We'll come right home when we're done." Chuck simply nodded his approval, and Caitlin, Becca, Jimmy, and Jackson all jumped into the car and took off down the street.
As the others got into the van, Mac turned to Chuck. "You know what would be cool?" he asked, seeming very thoughtful.
"What?" Chuck asked, humoring his Malkavian friend.
"A giant wonton wrapper," Mac replied. When he saw that Chuck did not understand what he was talking about, he elaborated. "For the Gangrel," he added. "We could make him a huge deep-fried wonton." Chuck only shook his head in response as he climbed into the driver's seat and drove away.
V
From the inside of a Ford Thunderbird parked on the street, a large, imposing figure watched the Sabbat vampires leave the neighborhood. The situation was now getting far out of control. In one night, the Sabbat had added ten new vampires to their ranks. Doubtlessly, these neonates would be used as shock troops, and were not being considered true members of the packs. However, they would serve their purpose well. Given the present situation of the Camarilla in the city, it was likely that the superior numbers of the Sabbat would begin to have a catastrophic effect on Luna and his followers. This fact was unfortunate. For decades he had occasionally checked in on the vampires in this city. Despite the fall of every other city on the West Coast to the restless Brujah anarchs, Archon, and later Julian Luna, had been able to hold San Francisco. This was indicative of a very strong bloodline. Not only the ruling Ventrue had shown strength, however. Every clan in the city seemed to have powerful, high quality specimens living here.
The man sighed as he considered the situation, and was then forced to smile at the fact that he had sighed. It was the one remaining human behavior that he retained after countless centuries as a vampire. He knew that he would probably be forced to act, or else every one of these excellent specimens would be lost. He greatly desired to see how they would develop over the years. Of course, he had the special interests of seeing where the Telemon would end up, and how successful Rayce would be in redesigning the Brujah clan in the city. The Sabbat would probably win, though.
He thought about the problem on another level. Perhaps the superior numbers of the Sabbat were a strength that he should consider. Perhaps their willingness to create and sacrifice progeny should give them an evolutionary edge. No, he thought, shaking away that idea. One on one, the resident Camarilla vampires would destroy the Sabbat invaders. They were obviously more fit for survival in the long term. He had to get around the numbers. He had to allow the two sides to meet on equal terms, to finally decide which faction should hold the city.
The man leaned over to the passenger seat and opened his computer, once again looking over the file of Matt Reimer.
Name: Matthew Reimer File #: 57342
Clan: Telemon (Brujah Bloodline) Location: San Francisco
Embraced: 1994 Last Update:
Sire: Johnny Yashida File #: 54355
Grandsire: Siras Telemon File #: 51246
Displayed Disciplines: Celerity (Telemon), plus fortitude
Rating: 24.2
Notable Victories:
none
Desired Confrontations:
Nosferatu elder
Brujah elder
The rating of the Telemon primogen had increased over the past two weeks as he had continued to easily destroy every Sabbat vampire that he fought. However, he had not yet been faced with any of the original vampires that had come to San Francisco. He had thus far only killed the fledglings that had been created since the Sabbat's arrival in the city. He needed a true test, and the time had come for that test to be administered. The time had come for the observer to intervene slightly.
The man looked up the file containing Geist's weapons supplier, and dialed the number on his cell-phone. The phone rang over ten times before someone finally answered.
"Hello?" came a man's voice with a slightly Italian accent.
"I wish to speak to Rocco Waters."
"You got him," Rocco answered. "Who's this."
"Simply a man with goods to distribute," the man answered. "I'm in San Francisco. It looks like that's where the action is."
"What do you have?" Rocco asked. He could not pass up the chance for any weapon sales in San Francisco. Recently everyone in the city was coming to him for weapons, and the city was tearing itself apart more every night.
"Twenty assault rifles, modified for full automatic firing, 2000 rounds of ammunition, and some C-4," came the reply. "The prices are rock-bottom, I just need to unload them and get some quick investment capital."
"How much?" Rocco asked.
"Twenty thousand," the man replied
Rocco's jaw almost hit the floor when he heard the price. He would be able to make a nice profit from this deal.
"When can you get it to me?" Rocco asked.
"Not you," the man answered. "I deal directly with my customers. You'll be paid $10,000 for your services in introducing me to my prospective client.
"You trying to cut in on my action?" Rocco asked accusingly. He would not be reduced to introducing his customers to the man who would undersell him.
"This is a one-time deal," the man replied, attempting to make his voice seem as earnest and honest as he could. "You get your money, I get mine; and I get the peace of mind of seeing my customer face to face. I want to be sure they aren't cops. Things are getting a little hot in the Bay Area nowadays."
"Ok," Rocco replied reluctantly. He did not like this deal very much, but $10,000 was $10,000. He would simply have his stupid nephew show up to introduce Geist and this new buyer. That way it was not his ass flapping in the wind if something went wrong. "When do you want to make the delivery?"
"Tomorrow night," the man responded curtly. "Tell me where and when. My number is 555-9175. Let me know two hours in advance."
"Sure," Rocco replied. "I'll see you then."
CHAPTER 6
I
From a rooftop three blocks from the Sabbat's warehouse, a large form watched as Geist and his Templars got into the Bishop's limousine. They were leaving right on time, just as he had planned. He would have one of his retainers meet with Geist and Rocco to sell the weapons, and give them an added surprise during the meeting. He took out his cell-phone and dialed the number he saw on his computer screen.
"Hello?" came the voice on the other end of the line.
"Mr. Reimer," the man replied. "I have some valuable information for you."
"Who is this?" Matt asked.
"Who I am is insignificant," the man answered. "Time is short. Agree to do things my way, and I will allow you to have the information."
"What is it?" Matt asked.
"Agree first," the man insisted.
"Fine, I agree," Matt responded. "What the hell do you have to tell me?"
"The Bishop and his Templars are going to buy some very cheap weapons in Lincoln Park," the man answered. "You will take no one but your own clan, and you will challenge the group to monomacy."
"To what?" Matt asked.
"Monomacy," the voice replied. "It is single combat to the death. There is the Bishop and four Templars, so bring four of your clan with you."
"Who are you?" Matt asked. He could hardly believe his ears, but it sounded to him as if someone in the Sabbat was betraying the cause. He wanted to know who his ally was.
"An interested party," the man responded. "You had better hurry, Mr. Reimer. Are your clanmates all able to fight tonight?"
"Why?" Matt asked, suddenly extremely suspicious.
"I know they blew up four gangs of anarchs last night," came the reply. "It is important that they all be perfectly healthy."
"They're fine," Matt responded as he hung up the phone. The Telemon primogen shouted out for his clanmates to join him, filling them in excitedly about the newest development. Moments later, they were all headed for Lincoln Park and their battle with the leaders of the Sabbat invasion.
Back on the rooftop, the form smiled thinly as Geist's limousine drove below him, on his way to the fateful meeting. The man jumped from the rooftop to the ground five stories below, and walked over to his car. After a quick check on his video equipment, he raced off to Lincoln Park, hoping to get there before the Sabbat or the Telemon, so that he could get a good spot to watch the battle.
II
As Matt pulled into Lincoln Park, he immediately noticed the limousine and the van. He realized that the limo was the same one that had carried the Sabbat Bishop that night a couple of weeks ago, when he had lost his first Humvee in the chase coming back from 3 Com Park.
Geist continued to speak with the arms dealers, oblivious to the approach of the Telemon clan. He wanted to know more about Elton, the representative that the supplier had sent to the meeting. As far as Geist or Rocco's nephew knew, however, this was the same man that had made the call the night before, and both men wanted to know more about the origin of the weapons.
"I'm not answering any questions," Elton finally stated emphatically. "They're untraceable, that's all you need to know."
"Sir," Geist heard one of his Templars call out. He turned to see Hans van der Poole pointing at an approaching vehicle while the others reached into the limo for weapons.
"You set me up?" Geist said accusingly to Rocco's nephew and the supplier's ghoul. Without a second thought he shot both men dead and ran over to the limousine. Even before he got there, he knew that he would not be able to get away before the Telemon could bring their weapons to bear.
"Sabbat Bishop," he heard a voice say over a speaker on the Humvee. "We can either shoot you now, or you and your Templars can accept our challenge of monomacy."
Geist looked at the Humvee, and then at his Templars. He knew that the Telemon clan comprised some of the strongest Camarilla vampires in the city, but he also knew that he and his men were the best the Sabbat had to offer in the entire state of California. If they could defeat the Telemon clan, the war would be all but over. No one but the Brujah clan would stand in their way, and no single clan was a match for his army.
"I accept," he yelled to Matt. Matt got out of the Humvee and slowly started to walk over, accompanied by Brett, Daniel, Dmitri, and Holden. Geist walked up to the five Telemon, followed by Chris, Bruce, Hans, and Lawrence. No one noticed Johnny and Angelica slip out of the Humvee a few moments later and make their way over to the limousine.
The ten vampires spread out, Matt taking Geist, Holden taking Chris, Daniel squaring off against the Nosferatu, Bruce, Dmitri facing Hans, and Brett challenging Lawrence, the Lasombra appointed by the Archbishop to watch over the Sabbat's bishop.
Matt immediately lunged at Geist, seeking to rip his heart out in quick vengeance for the death of Barry. The Sabbat Brujah sidestepped and slashed into Matt's abdomen with a hunting knife. Matt quickly drew back and grinned. "So you want to cut people with knives, do you?" He drew his survival knife and dove in again, managing to slice into Geist's arm. The two became a blur of motion as they slashed, parried, and countered, demonstrating the skill that each had with his weapon.
Dmitri looked at Hans and decided that less skill would be necessary to defeat his foe. Geist's childe advanced toward the Russian, allowing his hands to morph into claws. When he reached the Russian hitman, he slashed viciously with his natural weapons, looking to end the fight quickly so that he could help his allies. As Dmitri ducked under the first strike and stepped back to avoid the back swing, he pulled out two Desert Eagles from under his coat and immediately started firing into the Brujah antitribu's chest. Hans was knocked back several feet by the salvo of bullets, and fell to the ground, desperately trying to heal the damage that Dmitri had caused before the large Russian could finish him off. Before Hans could move, however, he saw Dmitri standing over him, a grenade in hand. The Telemon stuck the grenade in Hans' mouth, pulled the pin, and walked away as quickly as possible. Five seconds later, Hans was extinguished.
Daniel knew as he approached Bruce Banner that he was probably in for the fight of his life. Hoping to avoid physical combat, Daniel stepped back and drew his 9mm, firing ten shots at the large Nosferatu before his enemy could get close enough to strike the far smaller Telemon. Daniel immediately noted with horror that the bullets had only served to anger the kindred who was known to his friends as the Hulk. In a sudden burst of speed Bruce raced forward and grabbed Daniel, immediately locking him in a vice-like grip, demonstrating more strength than McLaughlin had thought possible for any man to exert. Daniel felt his ribs cave in, and looked up as Bruce struck his skull, crushing it like an eggshell. Daniel fell to the ground, unable to move, unaware of where he was, but still alive. He rolled over and looked up to see Bruce leering at him. Suddenly, he remembered the situation he was in, and tried to roll back the other way. In his weakened state, though, he moved too slowly. The Nosferatu picked him up and moved to rip off the Telemon's head with his bare hands. Before he could finish the deed, however, Bruce was struck in the back with a crossbow bolt. Knowing the danger that such a weapon posed to him, he immediately dropped Daniel and looked around. He saw Angelica ducking behind the limousine, crossbow in hand, and started to walk in her direction. Given a brief respite, Daniel began to pour his body's blood into his wounds, hoping to mend flesh and bone soon enough to still be able to help his clanmates.
Holden fared far better in hand to hand combat against Chris Murphy than Daniel had in his battle. Though the Brujah was faster, Holden's vast experience allowed him to keep pace with his every movement. Though Holden lacked in years and sheer power as a kindred, he was obviously the better trained combatant, and this began to show through. The years of martial arts training that Holden had received as a Navy SEAL began to give him the edge, and he took control of the fight. Minutes passed quickly as the two combatants struck each other when it was possible, taking advantage of every momentary opening that presented itself.
As Holden continued to press his opponent, a terrifying thought occurred to him. While he realized that he was obviously the better fighter of the two, he was burning through his blood extremely quickly. It was likely that a Sabbat Templar would be a greater generation than Holden himself was, allowing his opponent would to store more blood in his body, meaning the Templar could fight for a longer period of time. Holden almost threw himself at his enemy, suddenly changing strategies. At first he had been happy to take his time, realizing that his superior ability would eventually guarantee victory. Now, however, he realized that patience could kill him. He simply hoped that he had altered his tactics soon enough, and that he would be able to find the opportunity he needed.
After a couple more minutes, Holden got exactly what he had been looking for. Chris overextended on a strike to Holden's throat, and the Telemon was able to parry Chris' hand to the side and work in closer. The SEAL grabbed the Templar in a headlock. Holden then frantically flowed as much blood into his left arm as he could, hoping to increase his strength and guarantee that the Sabbat vampire would not escape. Chris followed the same strategy of increasing strength, hoping just as hard that he would be able to pry himself from Holden's seemingly unshakable grip. Knowing that his inner stores of blood had been all but exhausted, Holden took a chance. He took his right arm away from holding his opponent, and grabbed his survival knife. Again Chris reacted a fraction of a second too late, and the error was enough to cost him his life. As he struggled to free himself from Holden's suddenly loosened grip, he left his sternum open to attack. Holden took advantage of the opening and drove his knife into Chris Murphy's heart, sending the vampire into torpor. Although Holden was barely capable of moving, he knew that his job was not done. The Templar had simply been incapacitated, not destroyed. Holden needed a second cutting weapon, as removing his own knife from Murphy's chest would revive the Sabbat vampire. Holden looked to Chris' own waist and found an ornate gladius. Holden grinned, knowing the Roman-designed shortsword was perfect for the job at hand. He drew the sword and decapitated Murphy with the Templar's own weapon. Then the Telemon laid back on the ground, not having the energy to move any more.
As Bruce lumbered around the limousine, he saw Angelica duck back out of the car and start running away as quickly as she could. As she ran she fumbled with the crossbow, hoping to arm it again before Bruce could get close enough to destroy her. The Hulk looked inside the car briefly, noticing that the steering column was ripped apart. He concluded that she had been attempting to steal the limo, and knowing that he would never be able to run her down on foot, he jumped into the limousine and started racing after her across the grass. As soon as Angelica was certain that the Nosferatu was driving after her, she turned with a smile and pulled a remote detonator out of her pocket. Half-concealing herself behind a tree, she pushed the detonator. Terror immediately overtook her when the vehicle failed to explode, and Bruce slammed into the tree that had been shielding the female Telemon from him. Though the tree still stood after the impact, the shock of the collision had still knocked Angelica from her feet and showered her with broken glass.
Banner stepped slowly from the mangled vehicle and walked toward the Telemon, still hoping to reach her before she could re-arm the crossbow and use it against him. Angelica recovered from the haze that had fallen upon her when the tree was hit, and remembered the weapon before the Hulk was able to get close enough to hurt her. She could feel that her leg was broken, and scanned the ground frantically for the crossbow, knowing that it provided her only real opportunity for survival. She had been certain that it had been right next to her, but it was suddenly nowhere to be found. She struggled to her feet, trying to put the pain from her leg out of her mind, and immediately felt a large hand close around her neck. She was lifted off of the ground and brought face to face with Banner, who could not hide his pleasure at catching the quick Telemon.
"And what do you think you're going to do with her?" a voice asked from behind the Nosferatu. Banner turned, still holding Angelica's body with one arm, and saw Yashida standing ten feet away, the crossbow leveled at the monstrous Sabbat vampire.
"Drop it or she dies," Banner answered, tightening his grasp and snapping a couple of Angelica's vertebrae to emphasize his point.
"If I pull the trigger, you'll hit torpor faster than you can squeeze," Johnny replied. "You are in no position to bargain. All I want is a chance to say a couple of words to my clanmate." The Hulk looked at the small kindred standing before him, and admitted silently that he was indeed in no position to make threats. The Telemon had him dead to rights. He nodded his head, and turned Angelica slightly in his grip, allowing Johnny to see his clanmate's face, although he refused to set her free. He knew that should Yashida fire, there was still the chance that he would miss. In that case, he would be able to kill the Telemon he held.
"Angelica, I have advised against your embrace in this clan from day one," Johnny said to his captive clanmate. He seemed unconcerned with the fact that Banner had not released Angelica, and this lack of interest made the Templar become concerned. He wondered what the small Telemon had in mind. "I didn't think it was a good idea to bring an anarchistic terrorist into our ranks, but you were useful at the time," Johnny continued. "My sire has recently told me that your time has passed." Angelica looked at Johnny in shock, not able to believe his words. The Telemon were close-knit. They would never kill their own. Not only did it run against everything they believed in, she also knew it would not look good for Siras to start killing off his clan members once their usefulness had run out.
"Don't look so surprised," Johnny added with a grin. "We know about what you did for the Brujah. Marcus destroyed them, and now the Sabbat will destroy you. It's truly tragic." Angelica looked down at Yashida with sudden understanding. She had taught the Brujah in Siras' city how to make semtex, a potent plastic explosive, as well as the secondary detonators that the incendiaries would need in order to be used. She had known that the Brujah planned to employ car bombs against the Telemon prince of the city, but she had shared her information all the same. Apparently her elders had found out, and were going to take her life as punishment. "She's all yours," Johnny said with a nod to Bruce, who could hardly believe what had just happened. As Yashida turned his back, Banner squeezed more tightly on Angelica's neck, popping her head off of her shoulders. As soon as Johnny heard Angelica's decapitated body hit the ground he whirled and leveled the crossbow at the Hulk once more.
"I guess you want to kill me pretty bad, don't you?" Johnny asked the monstrous kindred in front of him. Banner simply nodded. "You know the really ironic thing?" Johnny asked as he glared at the Hulk. The Templar continued to simply look at the smaller Telemon, not making any aggressive moves. He dared not attack as long as Johnny held the crossbow. It was one of the few weapons that could disable him in an instant.
"I don't even know how to use this thing," Johnny admitted, looking over the crossbow. "I totally faked you out." Banner's mouth spread into a fanged smile, and he lunged toward the far smaller Telemon. Johnny held his ground, and in a blur of motion dropped the crossbow and drew a sawed-off, double barrel shotgun from a holster that concealed the weapon in the small of his back. He fired once, a jet of flame bursting right into the Hulk's face. Banner fell back, realizing instantly that he had been shot in the head with a phosphorous round. The injury he had suffered had burned his flesh. He was overcome with agony as he stumbled backward, trying to use his ears to locate his enemy, as his eyes had been burned from his ocular cavities. "Now this, I do know how to use," he heard Yashida say. A moment later he felt intense heat tear into his chest. There was a brief moment when Banner realized that his heart had been disintegrated by a second round from the shotgun. In the next moment, he was extinguished. Seeing that his foe was destroyed, Johnny replaced his weapon at his back and raced toward Lawrence and Brett.
It did not take a genius to instantly realize that Brett was overmatched by the Lasombra he was fighting. Lawrence had called forth dark tendrils from the shadows in the park, and they were now squeezing the life from the Telemon. Lawrence had been toying with Brett since moments after they had begun to fight, but he was rapidly losing interest in his little game. He began to increase the pressure that his living tentacles of darkness were inflicting on his opponent. The Telemon struggled to reach a gun, a knife, or any weapon that he could possibly get his hands on. He began to feel his situation was useless, and looked back on the Lasombra that he realized would kill him. Rather than take interest in his latest victory, Lawrence was preoccupied with his own random thoughts. As usual, he noted, Geist seemed to be having all of the fun. The young Telemon primogen actually seemed to be fighting the Sabbat bishop to a standstill, against any odds that most sane men would have given him.
As Johnny began to approach Lawrence and his victim, he could hear the bones in Brett's body snapping under the intense pressure that was being exerted by the shadowy tentacles. Knowing the ability that Lawrence was using against Brett, Johnny stepped forward in an attempt to save his clanmate.
"Let him go, Lasombra," Johnny said threateningly. Lawrence looked at the Telemon with disdain.
"This is monomacy," he responded. "It's what he wanted." Johnny caught sight of Dmitri standing off to the side, passively watching Lawrence squeeze the life from Brett's body. Even the amoral Russian assassin seemed to know that he had no place in this battle. Still, Johnny pressed the issue.
"Your fight should have been with me," Johnny replied as menacingly as he could. It was then that Lawrence noticed the wispy shadows emanating from Yashida's body.
"You know of the Lasombra art of Obtenebration?" he asked with disdain. His clan's art of manipulating shadows was a closely guarded secret, and he reeled at the thought of having one as base as Johnny Yashida using the power. "You want me, you can have me," Lawrence replied. "No one else interferes. It is monomacy."
The Lasombra dropped Brett and strode toward Yashida. Before Johnny could draw his shotgun to fire at his opponent he was grabbed by shadowy tendrils, just as Brett had been. Before Lawrence knew it, dark tentacles, the creations of his young opponent, had also seized him. His eyes went wide with shock as he realized the extent of the knowledge that Johnny possessed. The Lasombra felt his body being crushed, and began to burn his blood into his own tentacles, making them stronger. Johnny screamed out in pain, and then suddenly vanished. The Lasombra fell to the ground as Johnny's tendril's also disappeared. Before Lawrence could figure out what had happened though, he began to sink into the ground. He tried to stop his decent, but was unable to do so. It was as if a shadowy portal had opened up beneath him and was drawing him into its darkness. As the Lasombra's head dropped below the level of the ground, leaving only his arms outside of the shadow, still grasping for a helping hand, Dmitri and Brett heard him scream in pure terror, and then he was gone.
With the loss of Lawrence, only Geist remained. He and Matt were still fighting with as much passion as they had been when they had started. However, both kindred were now only moving through will alone. Their injuries were severe, with shreds of cloth and flesh hanging from the body of each of them. The green fatigues that Matt had worn to the park appeared dark purple with the staining of the blood flowing freely from his body. The close observer could note that they now both fought more defensively than they had been, knowing that the next one to score a major hit would probably win the battle. Matt began to move laterally, trying to throw Geist off balance, but the Brujah would have none of it. He switched hands briefly to throw Matt off-guard, and the two once again stood toe to toe, striking and countering in fluid movements, neither combatant giving quarter to the other. Matt began to realize the same truth that had faced Holden moments earlier. Geist seemed to be of a higher generation than the Telemon was. The bishop would have more blood to burn, could stay in combat longer, and could afford to take more chances than his younger opponent could. The Telemon thought desperately, seeking a strategy that would allow him to beat what he increasingly realized was a superior opponent. The answer came to him, and no sooner had the thought entered his mind than he put it into action.
Matt threw a vicious kick out to Geist's face, and the Brujah went to deflect it and cut into the Telemon's leg with the hunting knife. In mid-motion, however, Matt changed the direction of his kick and impaled his leg on Geist's knife. Geist realized the Telemon's ploy too late, as Matt brought his leg back down with Geist's knife still in it. Seeing the bishop disarmed, Reimer lunged before the injury to his leg caused him to lose his balance. The Brujah was taken completely by surprise as Matt plunged his own knife through Geist's heart, sending the Bishop into torpor. The Telemon primogen then collapsed next to Geist's body, and rolled over, taking the Bishop's head in his hand. He bit into the neck and began to drain all of the blood that Geist had left. Matt continued draining, until he had taken Geist's strength as well, diablerizing the leader of the Sabbat forces.
Matt Reimer looked around to see the losses that they had taken. He saw Angelica's decapitated body lying on the grass twenty feet away, and then realized that his sire was missing. "Where's Johnny?" he asked Dmitri.
"I don't know," the Russian answered. "One moment he was there, the next he wasn't." He looked around, and then turned back to the Telemon primogen. "I don't think he made it." Matt's stomach bottomed out as he realized that his sire had been destroyed. He shook the pain off, though. Johnny was a soldier in a war, and in war, soldiers died. There would be time to grieve for them when the job was done.
"Let's get moving," he said to the surviving members of his clan. "I really need to feed." The group of Telemon then limped off toward the Hummer, leaving Dmitri behind to clean up the mess and avoid any dangers of exposing the Masquerade.
III
Chuck and Jonas played a game of chess as the members of their packs taught the previous night's acquisitions how to use their blood to make themselves stronger and quicker. Neither one of them could guess that death would come for them that night, as a large, dark form approached the warehouse fearlessly. The form glanced up at the roof, noticing the fact that the Sabbat had not bothered to post a guard. Such arrogance needed to be punished. The man felt elated as he came closer to the building. He had not expected the night to be nearly as interesting as it had been. The Telemon clan had defeated the Bishop and his Templars with only minimal losses, and now he would put the next phase of his strategy into action. He had drained all but one of his own vampires fully in preparation for the evening, knowing that combat was an almost unavoidable consequence of his actions. He simply hoped that he would be able to delay that result until the time that he had planned on had arrived.
He came to the door, and threw it open. None of the Sabbat vampires were in the lower level of the warehouse. He decided that they had to be upstairs. He had posted a guard of his own, so that if there actually was a battle he could be sure that none of his victims would be going anywhere. He decided to simply enjoy the few extra seconds of waiting. It would make the exhilaration of the coming encounter that much more pleasurable.
He walked up the stairs, and could hear the sounds of people talking above him. He slowed for a second, listening to what was being said, and concluded that the Sabbat was training its neonates. It won't make any difference, he thought. Before the night is out, they will all be dead.
He grabbed the door handle, turned it, and stepped lightly into the room. The eyes of twenty-five arrogant Sabbat vampires turned to look at him. Excellent, he thought. They are all here.
"You're back already?" Molochai asked. To the eyes of the Tzimisce, it appeared as if their Bishop had just walked into the room. None of them knew that what they were seeing was the result of an illusion. A fairly simple power had been employed to deceive every one of the Sabbat vampires in the room. No one even seemed to question whether or not the man standing before them was indeed their leader. Why should they? the man thought. Who would ever try something this stupid?
"The meeting went quickly," the man replied. "The new buyer was extremely organized. Perhaps a little too organized."
"What do you mean?" Chuck asked.
We were jumped by the Telemon clan at the meeting, and I am reasonably certain that my supplier knew all about it," the disguised man answered. "Should Carmine ever call me again, find out where he is and let me know. I wish to deal with him personally." The intruder gambled that the vampires assigned to Geist would know who Carmine was. From their expressions, he guessed that they either knew of Geist's weapons supplier, or were able to figure out who he was based on the context of the statement. So far, so good.
"So what about the Telemon?" Sue asked, obviously concerned.
"We put them down," the man replied evenly. "However, we did lose Murphy. Reimer fled the scene when he realized he couldn't win. The rest of the Templars, except for Lawrence, followed to finish the job."
"Lawrence is with you?" Molochai asked.
"No, he has gone to organize a secondary base of operations," the man replied. He knew that adding that small piece of information was crucial. The Templars would never have left the Bishop's side unless he had ordered them to do so, and then only when the circumstances seemed to be rather dangerous. The situation he described certainly fit the bill. "Before he died, one of the Telemon was convinced to share the Camarilla's plans with us. Apparently, they know we are at the warehouse. They are planning to attack later tonight." He checked the response of the Sabbat vampires, and decided that thus far they were believing everything he said. "It seems they had sent the Telemon to take out myself and my Templars, thinking that without the head, the body would be more vulnerable. They were wrong." The man grinned thinly, knowing from hours of observation that this was a common expression for the bishop. "Everything might now rest on getting a new haven set up and defensible before the Camarilla knows that we're wise to their plans."
"So you want us to go to the theater?" Chuck asked.
"Yes, the theater," the man responded. Silently he cursed himself for his arrogance. He had been certain that he would be able to induce the Sabbat to go to a particular abandoned building that he had prepared in the Mission District. Apparently, there had already been arrangements made for a secondary base of operations. He would need to remember to discover the location of this secondary base before he contacted the man that would unwittingly set the next phase of the intruder's plan into motion. First, however, he would to ensure that his intended targets would not be suspicious of his orders.
"I want you to all get there as quickly as possible," the man said smoothly. "Lawrence should be there any time," he continued. "You will assist him in any way he needs, and then wait for my arrival. I don't want anyone leaving until we know we have a defensible position we can fall back to if anything goes wrong."
"You're not coming with us?" Chuck asked incredulously. The intruder looked at the pack leader and knew that he had become slightly suspicious. It was almost unheard of for a bishop to go out alone in a Camarilla-held city. "I am going to get a stash of special weapons that I set aside for an occasion just like this," the man answered. "I will meet you at the theater once I have them."
"What are they?" Molochai asked, unwilling to hide his curiosity regarding a new weapon he could use to inflict pain on the Sabbat's enemies.
"All in due time," the man purred. "Rest assured you'll like them." He looked the group over, and sensed that thus far they were buying his story.
"I don't like you being out there alone," Chuck said, returning to the issue of the bishop's vulnerability. "You've always told us to not take stupid chances."
"Yes, I have," the man agreed in a low voice. He could see that the vampires that surrounded him were falling for his trap. He scanned the room, letting his eyes fall on everyone that was there. He muttered to himself as he looked at the vampires, another habit that he knew Geist had. The bishop always mumbled his thoughts aloud to himself as he made plans. "Linus and Becca will come with me to act as bodyguards, and the newest of our people can all start to earn their keep by doing the heavy lifting for us. That will give me plenty of protection, and leave you enough people to set up defenses, I assume?" the man asked Chuck. The pack leader nodded, obviously more satisfied with the situation.
"We will all take the new van, as well as the Thunderbird that I acquired," the stranger said. "The rest of you can all pile into the second van and the police cruiser." Everyone started to move, gathering up weapons and personal belongings that could easily be carried. "All of you, be careful," the man said, straining to put an element of concern in his voice. "The Camarilla was smart enough to figure out we where we were, and who our weapon supplier was. There's no telling what else they've figured out. Once you leave here, trust no one. Simply follow my orders."
"Yes, sir," Chuck and Jonas said simultaneously. The stranger then motioned for the kindred he had chosen to accompany him to get going. Within a matter of minutes they were all underway. The stranger drove his Thunderbird slowly, making sure that Linus, driving the van behind him, was able to keep up. He would have to make sure that the other vehicle did not lose him. It would be time to trim the numbers of the Sabbat a slight bit.
The man drove directly toward an abandoned warehouse by the bay. He knew that he would need privacy, and this location offered him as much as he could expect without leaving the Bay Area entirely. He pulled the Thunderbird to a stop, and Becca immediately jumped out from the passenger seat. She leaned the seat forward, and the two policemen that had been embraced the night before climbed out from the back, each of them drawing their weapons and making sure that no one had followed them.
Linus brought the van to a stop next to the Thunderbird, and he and the eight college students that had been embraced the night before stepped out. Linus started to look around, an uneasy feeling starting to creep inside his being.
"How did you find this place?" Linus asked, a voice in the back of his head screaming at him that the warehouse was the perfect location for a trap. He tried to clear his head, and looked over the group that was with him. Besides him and Becca, there were also ten neonates and a bishop. Then his eyes settled on the bishop. All of a sudden it seemed as if something was not right about him. Linus looked closer, but could not quite pick out what it was.
"This is one of Carmine's old storage houses," the man disguised as the bishop replied. "I paid him for the right to store some of my larger weapons here."
"Isn't it possible he told the Camarilla about this place?" Linus asked.
"Very clever," the man muttered under his breath, admitting to himself that that was indeed an oversight in his story. He would have to be more careful in the future. "I erased Carmine's memory of the transaction once payment had been made," the man replied.
"Then how did he know that it had ever been sold?" Linus asked. "What if he thought he still owned it and came here to put some of his stuff. He might have stolen your weapons."
"Are you going to question me all night, neonate, or are you going to get your ass in motion and help me load this stuff into the van?" the man answered, his tone making it absolutely clear that he was done with his discussion.
"I'm sorry," Linus replied, noting the malice in his bishop's words. He had never heard his leader speak in such a way to any member of his packs. Linus looked to Becca, hoping that she had also noticed the discrepancy in the bishop's behavior, but she apparently had not. The other Sabbat vampire was already leading the neonates into the warehouse, just as she had been instructed to do. Linus followed her in, and the bishop brought up the rear.
Once he was inside, the man looked over the vampires that had come into the warehouse with him. He counted them up slowly, making sure he neither missed nor recounted any of those present. Twice he came up with twelve, and nodded his approval of the situation. He grabbed a thick chain from the floor next to the door, and wrapped it around the iron handles. Once it was secure, he attached two padlocks that he withdrew from his pocket. He had examined the warehouse thoroughly over the previous two nights, and had decided that all other exits had been sealed off. He was now locked in a deserted warehouse with a dozen armed Sabbat vampires. The time had come to reveal his true identity to them.
Linus looked back to his bishop just as the man finished securing the second lock. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked, fearing that his subconscious warnings had been more accurate than he would have liked.
"I am making certain that none of you escape," the man replied. The illusion that had surrounded him began to melt away, leaving in its stead a man who in no way resembled the bishop that all of the Sabbat vampires had come to know and trust.
"Who the fuck are you?" Linus shouted at the man standing in front of him. The average-sized Sabbat vampire was dumbfounded at the size of the man standing before him. He stood over six and a half feet tall, and was more massive than Arnold Schwartzegger had ever dreamt of being. The man's alabaster skin contrasted sharply with his close-cropped ebony hair and black cloak. Underneath the cloak, the man wore a black shirt, pants, and boots. Molochai became extremely nervous as the man ignored his question and looked around at each and every one of them in turn.
"Caine help us," Becca muttered, her terror causing her to be unable to even think.
"My name is Thorne," the man responded. "You, Linus Wilcox, may think of me simply as Death incarnate." Linus' face went almost as pale as Thorne's when he heard his full name spoken. He had not used his surname in years, and figured that no one would ever call him by it again. Apparently, this intruder knew a great deal about them.
"Oh really?" Linus asked, feigning the impression that he was unimpressed. "What are you, stupid? Get out of here before we tear you to pieces. There are a dozen of us, and only one of you." Thorne looked them all over again, measuring the strengths and weaknesses that he figured them to have. He shook his head absently, having again come to the same conclusion he had every other time he had pondered this situation. He was not in any serious danger.
Before Linus knew what had happened, Thorne was upon him. A quick stroke with a hatchet took the Panders' head from its shoulders. Before the decapitated body hit the floor, Thorne had produced a combat shotgun from under his cloak, and had shot through one of the neonate's hearts. The phosphorous in the shells guaranteed that the young vampire would never heal the wound – he was extinguished.
Becca, being the most experienced of the remaining vampires, was predictably the first to react. She raised her MAC-10 and fired a salvo at the imposter. Unfazed, Thorne looked down as the bullets entered his body, then rushed forward and drove his fist through her skull, destroying her in a heartbeat. He had the MAC-10 out of her hand in the blink of an eye, and fired at all of the neonates, sending most of them to the floor. He realized that he needed to decrease their effective numbers as quickly as possible, so that they would not be able to overbear him. Thorne's body was a blur of motion as he ran across the room, right into the midst of the newly created Sabbat vampires. He drove a stake into one's heart before she could raise a hand to defend herself. He then turned around to face three others, who were all firing shotguns at him. He lifted Becca's broken body in front of him, using her corpse as a human shield as he ran over to the three that stood opposing him. As Thorne approached them, he felt a knife plunge into his side, thrown by one of the police officers. He threw Becca's body at two of the young Sabbat opposing him, and then took the knife out from between his ribs and drove it into the third neonate's chest, sending him into torpor. With a slight grin betraying his enjoyment of the scuffle, Thorne drew his hatchet again. He severed the impaled vampire's head and took the stake out of the corpse with his free hand. By then the other two Sabbat vampires had freed themselves from under Becca's body. The second policeman fired at the Sabbat's executioner at point-blank range with his shotgun, but did not even manage to knock Thorne back. The large kindred brought the hatchet around in a wide arc, taking off the third young neonate's head, and on the backswing impaled the policeman with the stake. Across the room, four Sabbat vampires recovered from their initial fear and fired at him with assault rifles as Thorne took the heads from their comrades. The large kindred hardly noticed the small arms fire exploding around him as he turned to the ones that were still standing.
"Alright, who's next?" Thorne challenged arrogantly, looking into the eyes of half a dozen terrified Sabbat vampires. Those that had been firing their weapons, futilely hoping to destroy their executioner, dropped the rifles and ran for the door, hoping they would be able to force their way out into the night. For a brief moment, no more time than it took to blink, Thorne felt pity for his victims. However, it was a sentiment that did not last long. He launched himself at the gathered Sabbat who were pathetically banging at the door, desperately clinging to hopes of survival. He flayed the flesh from their bones as he dashed into the center of the group of neonates. It took little more than a minute for Thorne to eradicate his enemies. Once the screams of terror and pain had died out, Thorne lined the bodies up on the floor. He examined each of them, draining any blood that remained in any of the bodies. Though he had appeared to the neonates to be limitless in his power, Thorne knew that his strength would last only as long as his supply of blood did. He would feed upon his enemies, gaining their energy in order to increase his own. He made certain that he did not diablerize any of his victims, however. For the time being he had no interest in taking their essence. That was an act for another day.
Once he had finished feeding, Thorne spread gasoline on the bodies, and splashed it around the building. Earlier, he had placed drums of accelerants around the building, knowing that he would have to dispose of the evidence quickly once he had finished the battle. The Camarilla would have a chance to prove themselves now. Thorne had left the two Sabbat packs almost completely intact, taking only the weakest member of each one. The weakened Camarilla should present itself as a well-balanced opponent.
After he had set the building ablaze, Thorne went outside, got into his car, and picked up the phone. He quickly dialed a number, and a voice answered before the phone had rang once. "Yes sir?" came the question.
"You are following them, I assume?" Thorne asked.
"Yes sir," came the affirmative reply. "When they finally stop somewhere, I'll let you know."
"Excellent," Thorne replied evenly. He had hoped to dominate either Linus or Becca to find out where the theater was that the Sabbat had established as a secondary base. When Linus had started with all of his questions, Thorne had been forced to launch his attack sooner than he would have liked. Once battle had been joined, he could not pull any punches. If he had not fought all out, then his opponents might have been able to overwhelm him through sheer strength of numbers. He would now simply utilize his back-up plan, which consisted of one of his retainers following the Sabbat until they reached their new home. Then he would be able to continue setting his plans in motion. Until the Sabbat stopped, though, he would be busy. He would have to make sure that the warehouse burned completely, before the authorities could arrive to extinguish the flames. The Masquerade existed for a reason – to keep mortals from discovering the vampires and hunting them down. He had lived through one Inquisition, and was in no hurry to ever do it again.
IV
Julian Luna sat in the kitchen of his mansion, pondering what he might be forced to do when the war was over. Assuming the Camarilla won, he would probably be in for a bitter struggle to secure a firm hold on the position of prince. He realized that Matt was probably not yet ambitious enough to seek Julian's power, but it was likely Cameron or Patrick may try to use the Telemon primogen as a pawn. It would be through Matt that the prince would battle the heads of the Tremere and Brujah clans. He looked around at the decor of the kitchen, and realized that it was rather outdated. This was the only room in the house that it was safe to say was never really used by anyone. He decided that he would look into remodeling for the kitchen when the problems all passed by.
The phone rang a few feet away from him, and he picked it up instantly, not wanting to wait for the evening's bad news.
"I wish to speak to Julian Luna," came Thorne's voice from the other end of the line.
"This is him," Julian answered. "Who is this?"
"The prince answers his own phone?" Thorne asked, ignoring Julian's question. "Oh well, I guess you are running out of people to do stuff like that for you."
"Who is this?" Julian demanded.
"This is the man who recently saw the Sabbat run en masse across the city to their new haven," Thorne replied. "There are only fourteen of them now."
"What?" Julian asked, not believing a word of it. He was certain that it was a Sabbat trick to get him out into the open. Still, however, he felt the need to keep listening.
"Only fourteen remain," Thorne repeated. "The Bishop and his Templars are dead," Thorne added, "thanks to clan Telemon. They're a little banged up right now. They won't be able to help you. Are you up to the task, Julian Luna?"
"Where are they?" Julian asked. He realized that even if it was a Sabbat trap, the one thing he had been waiting for was a stand-up fight with his enemy. They had been using hit and run tactics for weeks, and he had not been able to find their haven and force a confrontation. He hoped that he would be able to end the war that night, one way or another.
"There is an abandoned movie theater within a five-block radius of the San Francisco Shopping Center," Thorne teased. "If you find the theater, you find our enemy."
"Our enemy?" Julian asked.
"You don't think you're the only person the Sabbat has ever angered, do you?" Thorne asked.
"I guess not," Julian answered. With that, the line went dead, and Julian was left to make his preparations.
From the rooftop across from the abandoned theater, Thorne watched the Sabbat and smiled. He was especially proud of the reference to the Sabbat being his enemy. Hopefully, once the Sabbat was gone, Julian would assume that his mysterious informer was gone as well. That would allow Thorne to stay in the city and watch what happened. He especially wanted to see what Rayce was up to. The old Brujah had been embracing childer that no one knew about, and that was an exceptional source of interest.
Back in the Luna Mansion, Julian was nearing euphoria as he hung up the phone once again and walked out of the kitchen. "Cash!" he yelled. Within seconds, the Gangrel was at Julian's side, weapon drawn, in case one of the Sabbat had managed to get into the mansion.
"What is it, Julian?" Cash asked as soon as he realized there was no immediate threat.
"I just had someone call me claiming that the Sabbat have taken a loss to their numbers, and he gave me their supposed location," Julian said with a smile. "Call Cameron and Patrick. We're going to go on the offensive for a change."
"Julian, this should be Matt's call," Cash reminded the prince.
"I just called Matt," Julian replied. "The Telemon killed the Bishop tonight, along with all of his Templars. They can't do any more, though. They're all drained and are missing a few of their people. This is up to us. We have to kill them now before they can replenish their numbers."
"No problem," Cash said with a smile as he ran to call the primogen of the Tremere and Brujah.
As Julian gathered his weapons, he saw movement from the corner of his eye. He dropped to one knee and pointed his .45 at the figure in the doorway, immediately lowering the gun when he recognized Lillie. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "I guess I'm a little jumpy."
"It's true, isn't it?" Lillie asked. "You found the Sabbat."
"We hope so," Julian said intently. He started to load phosphorous shells into his combat shotgun as Lillie continued to speak.
"I want to go with you," she said.
"Out of the question," Julian replied emphatically. "You know they would never trust you out there," he added, referring to the other primogen. Even if Lillie did not join the Sabbat in the battle, Julian doubted that any of the primogen would miss the opportunity to kill Lillie and blame it on their enemies. Given her current status, there would be few questions asked.
"Would you trust me?" the Toreador asked, looking at her former lover with hurt eyes.
"It doesn't matter, Lillie, because you're not going." Julian hoped that his curt reply would sink into Lillie's head, and the discussion could end.
"I could prove my loyalty to you," Lillie offered, still seeking permission. "You owe me that much."
"Look, Lillie," Julian said, crossing the room to the Toreador primogen. "I don't think you were involved with the Sabbat. It will just take time to let this pass. Accept that."
"Fine," Lillie said, obviously frustrated by the situation.
As Lillie stood there, Sasha and Jenni walked into the room. "What do you two want?" Julian asked, unwilling to hide his sudden irritation at the arrival of the two women.
"We heard you're going to get the Sabbat," Sasha said. "When do we go?"
"You're not going," Julian said flatly.
"The hell I'm not," Sasha shot back. "I'm the third oldest Brujah left in this city. I'm one of the only ones left that's even seen combat. Without Matt to cover your ass, you're going to need everyone you can get."
Sasha's choice of words betrayed the pro-Telemon propaganda that had probably been getting tossed around in the Brujah clan recently, but Julian ignored it for the time being. "You should stay behind and watch over things," Julian replied.
"You mean watch over me, don't you?" Lillie asked angrily. "What, are you afraid I'll sneak out after you and warn the Sabbat that you're on your way."
Julian rubbed his temples, certain that he was getting a headache. The last thing he needed was Sasha and Lillie teaming up against him. "You volunteered to watch over Jenni," Julian said to Sasha. "If you're killed out there, she will have no one to watch her. You know what that will mean, don't you?" He would not say in front of the child that she would be extinguished if Sasha was not around to protect her, but he hoped that Sasha at least understood the situation fully.
"I'm going too," Jenni said eagerly, hoping that she had solved the problem.
"What?!" Julian replied incredulously. "Not a chance in hell."
"They did this to me," Jenni spat angrily. "They made me this abomination. I want blood!"
Julian looked at the little girl, trying to understand the pain that the Sabbat had caused her. Perhaps she was already starting to realize the difficulty she would have over the years, as her mind grew up and her body did not. "Alright," Julian relented. "Sasha, you keep an eye on her, though. No unnecessary risks, do you understand?"
"Sure Uncle Julian," Sasha said with a smile. The young Brujah then ran off with her ward to her room so that she could get her .357 Magnum.
"You're not really going to let her get involved in this fighting, are you?" Lillie asked.
"She has even more reason to hate the Sabbat than I do," Julian said, referring to Jenni. "She can go along. I trust Sasha to watch over her. Besides, both of them are going to get into fights as the years go on. I might as well make sure the earlier ones are when I'm there to help keep them both safe." He kept to himself the hope that Jenni would perhaps be killed in the battle. That would solve all of his problems as far as the abomination was concerned.
"There's something wrong with that child, Julian," Lillie responded. "I just wish I could just figure out what it is."
"Besides the fact that she's possibly a Sabbat spy and still is trusted more than you are?" Julian asked. As soon as he said the words, he realized that he had pushed Lillie too far. Lillie stormed out of the room furiously, leaving Julian to do one last check of his weapons.
V
The Camarilla kindred arrived at the abandoned movie theater in three groups. Julian had Sonny, Rayce, Sasha, and Jenni with him. Patrick had Cash, Bottle Rocket, and Rica. Cameron took the rest. As usual, Carter was perched above the action, waiting for anyone to poke his head out a window so that he could pick them off.
Patrick took his group to a service entrance on the side, and moved in quietly. Julian led his group around to the back, and Cameron had the Brujah waiting out front for all of the vampires that attempted to escape. On a signal from Julian, they all attacked in unison. Gunfire erupted from the theater as Julian's group entered, and then shots came from the side of the building as Patrick's group found Action Jackson and Marie. The two Sabbat were cut down before they could even offer any resistance. Patrick then went off on his own, leaving Cash to keep Bottle Rocket and Rica to the plan. The Tremere primogen sought out the one thing that had made him come along on what may have been a suicide mission. He wanted the Tremere antitribu that was rumored to be in the Sabbat.
Julian fired endlessly, forcing the Sabbat to flee toward the front of the building. Rayce moved off on his own, trying to get close enough to one of the Sabbat to stake them. Sonny stood right next to the prince, while Sasha waited for a good target to shoot at. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jenni take off back out of the theater, but let her go. She figured the child would probably be safer outside, anyway.
Patrick ran up to the balcony, and up there came face to face with Sandra. A faintly glowing blue sigil was evident on Sandra's forehead, visible only to the Tremere primogen that slowly advanced on her. This was the mark of all Tremere antitribu, the stamp of all those that turned their backs on the Tremere clan to join the antitribe. It was, in effect, a signed death warrant. Sandra instantly recognized San Francisco' Tremere primogen, and figured that she was faced with a kindred whose training, if not years, exceeded her own. She unconsciously moved her left hand over her forehead, well aware of the magical mark that had already identified her status as a deserter of her clan.
"I assume you know who I am, and why I have come looking for you," Patrick said calmly, hoping his confident demeanor would serve to further unnerve his opponent. He could already see that Sandra was uneasy. In some ways, her fear of the Tremere would be greater than that of those of the other clans. She knew full well what the warlocks were capable of doing, and she was aware of the lack of morality that the clan as a whole possessed. She knew that she had incurred the wrath of her clanmates by deserting her brethren. The clan's elders would have assumed that at some point she had betrayed the secrets of the Tremere blood magic. That would have earned her the sentence of final death. Patrick could only imagine the terrors that Sandra was expecting to have unleashed upon her.
"You must know that I am not some neonate you can push around," Sandra replied, her words implying far more confidence than her voice did. "I am a member of the Sabbat. I fight for a living while you sit in your library and read. I have already killed three members of our clan. What makes you think you'll be any different?"
"Two of them were young," Patrick answered, "not yet even presented to a city's prince. The other was stabbed in the back after he had already defeated two of your old packmates." Patrick took a slight step forward, and noted that Sandra almost immediately took an equally small step backward. He grinned. "I am no childe," Patrick added. "And it does not seem as if my back is turned towards you. Why don't you show me some of this might you claim to have?"
"Are you so willing to throw your life away?" Sandra asked, still not moving to make an attack. It was all too obvious to Patrick that his opponent was trying to bluff her way out of the confrontation.
Patrick Collins did not respond, instead only directing a sneer toward the woman standing before him. He began to mumble the words to a ritual that he would use to incapacitate his opponent. He wanted to be able to take his time with her, to punish the rebel, to make an example of her. Sandra recognized the words, however, and knew what would happen to her if Patrick were to be allowed to finish. In a flash of movement she drew a Browning 9mm and started fired at the Tremere primogen. Patrick fell back with the impact of the bullets, but never lost his concentration. As soon as he was presented with his enemy's firearm, he abandoned the words of his ritual and instead focused his blood in order to utilize one of the abilities his blood magic granted him. Sandra was only able to fire three shots before the trigger stopped responding to her finger's pressure. She looked at the gun quickly and saw that the safety had been engaged. No sooner had she discovered this than the clip fell out of the weapon, and the round in the chamber popped out, leaving the pistol useless. It suddenly began to wriggle slightly in her hand, and she realized immediately that Patrick had animated the weapon. He had actually caused the gun to come to life and resist her commands. The Sabbat Tremere was impressed by her opponent's skill, but was certainly not intimidated.
Sandra concentrated on a power of her own, and a moment later a large, campfire-sized blaze erupted beneath Patrick's feet. He looked at the flames in terror and channeled his blood into his limbs, moving with supernatural speed in the opposite direction from his foe. He slammed against the wall and looked down at his legs, shrieking with panic when he realized that his pants had caught fire. He rolled around on the ground, trying to put out the flames that licked at his flesh. He could smell his skin burning, and had all but lost control when the fire died out, smothered as Patrick rolled around on the floor. Sandra looked at her enemy with an expression of amusement. Patrick used the moments that he had been provided with to regain his senses. He realized immediately that Sandra was a far more formidable threat than he had thought. Apparently, she had feigned fear in order to lure him in, to cause him to lower his expectations of her ability. That had left him vulnerable. He would not make the same mistake again.
The Tremere primogen concentrated on sending blood to his legs, to heal some of the damage that had been done. He knew that the burns would not be done away with so easily, but he was also aware that he could only heal the injury so much. It would be days before he had fully recovered from Sandra's vicious attack. As he healed the burns, he also felt that his shoulder and head had been injured. No doubt, he realized, a result of his panic-driven dash across the room. He had hit the wall hard enough to fracture his skull and separate his shoulder. Had he been mortal, he would not even be walking. As kindred, however, he was only moments away from being able to launch himself into combat once again.
Sandra looked at Patrick with subdued awe. She had never seen a kindred recover so quickly from the kind of burns he had just taken, as well as the terror that was associated with the sight of the open flames. The fact that he was still moving, indeed even planning to continue the fight, disconcerted her somewhat. She began to realize that she might be overmatched, and started to utilize another of her blood magic's powers. She focused her blood in her torso, and concentrated it. Every drop of the Sabbat vampire's blood became more potent, increasing her physical prowess to a level beyond that which any vampire of her generation could achieve. Effectively, Sandra had become as powerful as a vampire hundreds of years older than she was. Once her capacity to increase her strength and coordination had been augmented, she began to direct her blood toward that purpose.
Patrick noticed his foe's concentration on a blood magic power, and could only guess at what she was doing. He knew that he was extremely vulnerable. He was already injured, and had burned a great deal of blood. He grabbed a bracelet from his wrist, and stripped off half a dozen dark red charms that were attached. He squeezed them all and dropped them into his mouth. Sandra noticed the move, and understood its purpose. At some earlier point in time, Patrick had used a ritual to store some of his own blood in the bracelet's charms. Once they had been prepared, he could use them at any time he needed them. Once again, Patrick was able to defend himself, though he knew that the blood he had imbibed would not last too long in an extended battle. He would have to finish Sandra quickly. To achieve that end, he drew his Spanish broadsword.
The finely polished weapon reflected the flames of Sandra's dying fire, casting an eerie glow along the wall. Sandra simply smiled as Patrick advanced. The Tremere primogen wondered how she could still be confident. Sandra appeared to have no weapon, no equalizer to utilize against the sword. He advanced cautiously, and thrust the steel blade at his opponent's chest, hoping to impale her heart and send her into torpor. The move failed. In a blur of motion, Sandra drew a mahogany stake from underneath her jacket and parried the attack. She then swung the wooden weapon in a backhand motion, striking Patrick across the face. The Tremere primogen heard his jaw crush under the force of the impact, but did not bother to use his blood to mend the bones. He would simply have to fight through the pain. He did not have enough blood left to heal injuries and continue his battle. He would kill Sandra first, and then tend to his wounds.
Patrick swung his sword in a wide arc, planning to simply set Sandra back on her heels for a brief moment. He achieved his desired result, and once again went on the attack. Every thrust of his weapon was parried quickly, and with every passing moment he could feel the momentum of the duel shifting against him. With every second Sandra was getting stronger and faster, and Patrick knew that it was because she had been utilizing her blood to temporarily magnify her physical abilities. The primogen hoped that Sandra was beginning to run as low on blood as he himself was, as he would not be able to continue the battle much longer.
Sandra continued to press her foe, feeling that she was gaining the edge. Patrick moved more and more slowly in comparison to her, and the Sabbat vampire knew that she was only moments from getting through Patrick's defenses and impaling him on her stake. All she had to do was not overextend herself. As long as she was careful, she would get her opportunity. She struck at Patrick's sword fiercely, knowing that there was always the slight chance that she would be able to disarm her opponent. Against her own expectations, she actually achieved this unlikely goal, sending the ornate sword sliding across the floor. Sandra saw the opening that she had been waiting for, and in a flash she thrust her stake at Patrick's chest, looking to impale his heart.
When the final attack finally came at him, Patrick did not even bother to dodge. As soon as the stake struck his chest, it splintered into a thousand useless pieces. Sandra cursed herself for not having expected the Tremere primogen to prepare himself with that particular defensive ritual. In a moment of revelation, Sandra understood what her enemy had been doing. He had never been in any danger of being impaled by the stake, but he had resisted nonetheless. It had only been to cause her to use her blood toward an unachievable goal. She had expended an nonrenewable resource foolishly, and knew that she might be led to pay the ultimate price. Still, she knew, there was one chance left. Sandra knew all too well that Patrick had to also be low on blood. He was just as vulnerable as she was. A thin smile crossed the lips of the Tremere primogen as he enjoyed his immediate victory, but in his arrogance Patrick ignored the greater picture. The battle itself was not over, he had simply outsmarted his opponent in one facet of their struggle. Before he could react, Sandra recovered from her shock and grabbed a hold of the primogen's throat. She knew that it was impossible to choke an enemy that did not need to breathe, but strangling him was not her plan. Once she had achieved physical contact, she made use of another of her blood magic abilities.
Patrick grabbed a hold of Sandra just as he felt himself get stronger. Sandra's skin burned him on contact, however, and he realized that she had prepared a defensive ritual of her own. He also noted his increased strength. Patrick knew that Sandra had tapped into his own supply of blood, and was now using it for him. He was involuntarily diverting his own blood to his arms and legs, increasing his own physical power. He knew that in moments he would run out of blood, and would be sent into torpor, a sleep from which Sandra would never allow him to awaken. There was only one option left open, and he hesitated to make use of it. Patrick would have to once again grab a hold of his foe. He knew he would be burned, but he also knew that physical contact would be necessary to activate the power that he wished to utilize. Patrick closed his eyes and grabbed a hold of Sandra's face, then used his increased strength to push himself free of her grasp. Both kindred fell away from each other and crashed to the floor.
Sandra sat up first and glared at her sworn enemy, grinning ear to ear. "You are almost out of blood, aren't you, Patrick Collins?" she asked maliciously. "I can see the growing hunger in your eyes. Soon you're going to pass out, and I'll have your head."
"Not bloody likely," Patrick replied, a strange glint in his eye. Sandra recognized the emergence of the beast in her opponent, but could also detect a cold, calculating intelligence controlling it, holding himself back from the edge of frenzy. It was then that the pain started to set in.
"You betrayed the clan," Patrick said arrogantly as he rose to his feet, standing above the foe he knew he had beaten. "I should take you back to the chantry for proper retribution for your crimes, but I don't have time. Unfortunately, your death will be more merciful than you deserve." As soon as Patrick finished speaking, Sandra felt the slight pain she had noticed moments earlier develop into a burning sensation in her limbs. It increased in intensity, spreading into her torso and concentrating there. She wailed in pain as her skin began to blister. She realized that Patrick was using the blood magic of the Tremere clan to boil the blood that was within her body, but she was helpless to prevent it. Sandra lost control of her own spell, allowing Patrick to once again spend his own blood as he wished. She realized that she had lost. She looked up at Patrick with hatred in her eyes, but then lost all vision as her eyeballs burst from the pressure being applied by the water in her blood that had been converted into steam. She felt her skin start to split apart and blood drip across her flesh, burning her as it went. After no more than a minute of this agony, Sandra collapsed to the floor, utterly destroyed by Patrick's magic.
"Too merciful," Patrick muttered as he looked over the body of his defeated clanmate. Once the urgency of the battle had faded, Patrick was overcome with the hunger. Uncontrollable thirst for blood began to overwhelm every fiber of his being, and he fought desperately to restrain the beast that was overcoming him. Patrick knew he would have to feed immediately, but there was danger in simply going off in his condition. He knew that were he to surrender to his blood lust, he would simply prey upon the first victim he found. Half of the kindred in the theater were his allies, and he could not run the risk of feeding upon one of them. There could be terrible repercussions if he destroyed one of the city's native kindred. Just then he heard some screaming from below, and lost all control. He ran down the stairs, looking to finish off the kindred whose pain he was all too aware of.
The Sabbat had realized that they were outgunned inside the building. While they were more numerous, the Camarilla was using fully automatic weapons while the Sabbat was using pistols and shotguns. They fled out front, only to come face to face with over a dozen Brujah. They needed to be able to offset the advantage that Julian's people possessed, and to do that they needed to get more cover than was afforded to them by the seats inside the theater.
"Kill them all!" Chuck screamed as he was filled with bullets. He may not be able to survive the battle, he realized, but he was intent on taking as many of his enemies as he could to the grave with him.
The Sabbat opened up with everything they had left, but they had little chance. The advantage of superior numbers, which they had enjoyed until only a few hours earlier, was now being used against them. Several Brujah fell, however, as the Sabbat went out in a blaze of glory.
Unseen on the roof of the theater, Jimmy the Greek watched as the Sabbat was cut to pieces. They were his family, and he was bound to them not only by friendship, but also by the Vinculum. However, he was not going to throw his life away by jumping down below to join them. After all, Brujah were not stupid. Instead, he looked for any strays that he might pick off, and went down to the street to exact what vengeance he could.
Back inside, Julian heard a muffled crying coming from behind the concession stand. He looked behind the stand, and saw Caitlin hunched over Mac. Her sire was dead, killed by a phosphorous round from her former lover's shotgun.
"Caitlin?" Julian asked. He knew that she had been brainwashed, and that she had probably shared blood with the Sabbat, but a part of him still held out hope that there could be some reconciliation for the two of them.
Caitlin looked up at Julian with glazed-over eyes. After a moment, incredible clarity emerged, making clear her unmistakable hatred and rage. "You!" she screamed. "I'll kill you!" Caitlin stood and ran over toward Julian, drawing a knife as she came at him.
Julian gave her every possible second to divert her course, but she did not. When she was just a couple of feet away, he pulled the trigger on his shotgun, killing the woman that he had once loved, that he still loved. As Caitlin's body slumped to the ground, she looked up, and in one last act of hatred and defiance spat a mouthful of blood at Julian.
Julian walked outside, feeling defeated though he had in fact won what was perhaps his greatest victory. Everyone was gathering together in the vans to go back to the mansion before the police could arrive. The bodies of the Sabbat were stacked in first, followed by the dead and injured members of the Camarilla.
Julian suddenly remembered Sasha, and started looking around for his niece. He caught sight of her immediately, carrying Jenni over to one of the vans.
"She says you were right," Sasha commented. "She shouldn't have come." At least I made one right decision lately, Julian thought.
As they all piled in and prepared to leave, they heard Bottle Rocket scream out in fury. They all looked to see Rica coming to the vans carrying Cameron's body.
"We can't leave," Bottle Rocket yelled. "One of them got away. They diablerized Cameron."
Julian looked on in shock as he realized that for the second time in as many years, the primogen of the Brujah had been killed. He would no doubt have to deal with civil war in the Brujah clan as he rebuilt his control over the city. Perfect, he thought. Just when the Brujah get a stable leader, it has to all go to hell. With the sounds of approaching sirens, they were all reminded that they had to be leaving as soon as possible, and raced off back to the Luna Mansion.
As Julian and his minions drove off into the night, Thorne watched with exhilaration. The battle had provided him with several surprises. One of the Sabbat had actually escaped, and Cameron had been destroyed. Most importantly, though, Julian revealed that he had not, in fact, changed at all over the years. After all of the prince's posturing and speeches about the necessity of peace, he was able to gun down his lover without shedding a tear, all because she had become his enemy. The old vampire wondered if anyone else had noticed Julian's callous treatment of one he had proclaimed to feel so much for. Only time would tell.
VI
Julian was the last to arrive at the table for this meeting of the primogen. He had never before arrived late to a meeting that he had called, but this night he allowed himself the privilege. He felt as if a great weight had been removed from him. The city was, once more, under his control. He simply needed to make sure that the primogen understood this fact. With Cameron's death, there would be no pressure coming from the Brujah clan for awhile, although he was sure that Patrick would be turning up the heat from the Tremere.
The first thing that Julian noticed was that the seat of the Brujah primogen was not vacant. Rayce sat in the chair, wearing a black Armani suit. Given his wardrobe, and with his hair slicked back into a ponytail, the new Brujah primogen looked more like a Tremere or Ventrue than a Brujah. In fact, as Julian thought about it more and more, he could not recall having ever seen Rayce wearing anything that could be described as formal attire. Somehow, though, it seemed to suit him.
Before Julian was even settled in his chair, Rayce spoke up. "I would like you all to know that I am officially the new primogen of the Brujah clan. The path that Cameron was beginning to slowly bring us down will now be realized. Neither the clan nor myself hold any ambition for control of the city," he commented while looking directly into Julian's eyes. "We wish to work with the other clans to mold San Francisco into a very special place."
"What kind of a place is that?" Julian asked suspiciously. Despite Rayce's appearance and courteous demeanor, Julian retained his uneasiness as to the intentions of the Brujah clan.
"A place where we can appreciate the arts," Rayce responded with a sidelong glance at Lillie. "That includes visual and performance arts, as well as music and literature. We want a structured, enlightened populace, which realizes that while there is structure, the true strength of the society would be derived from individual freedom." As he finished, he looked at Cash, who was the other one at the table, beside himself, that would see the importance of personal liberties.
"It sounds like an excellent goal," Julian responded. "I look forward to seeing how you accomplish it."
"I already have a few plans," Rayce replied with a thin smile.
"I would like to say that since the Sabbat threat appears to have been wiped out, I relinquish all powers that were delegated to me during the crisis," Matt said.
Patrick almost cried for the orderly way in which everything was falling back into place. He had been hoping for some inner turmoil, some strife among the primogen that would lead to intrigue. With intrigue would come an opportunity for the Tremere to take power in the city. Even worse, if the Brujah became as organized as Rayce was indicating they would, there would be no source of tension, no chances for radical upheaval. It was beginning to seem as though the Tremere primogen would have to wait a long time before he could become prince of San Francisco.
"I would like to ask for permission to embrace some childer," Cash requested. "My clan is once again almost non-existent. I'm sure some of those that fled will return, but we also suffered a lot of deaths."
"I understand," Julian replied. "You can have up to four childer. Rayce, you may also embrace four new childer if you wish. The Brujah suffered greatly as well in this conflict." Julian gave no other permission, however. He knew that both Matt and Patrick would be highly selective, and would come to him on a case by case basis for permission. Daedalus and the Nosferatu rarely embraced anyone, so that was not an issue that needed to be considered. As for Lillie, he would be damned if he would let her embrace anyone for some time to come. Her childer had caused far too many problems recently.
Zane had gone out of control two years ago, and had needed to be destroyed. Then Travis had gone over to the Sabbat, and had likewise been extinguished. Of course, Lillie could claim that it was her brother, Shane, that had corrupted Travis, but the fact remained that Shane was still at large. He could always return to taint another of Lillie's childer with the allure of the Sabbat.
It was then that Julian decided to finally deal with the issue of the Toreador primogen. "I assume you still speak for the Toreador?" Julian asked Lillie.
"For now," she replied. "Many of my clan have expressed their displeasure at the disgrace I have brought the clan in this city, but none are strong enough to challenge me. I will speak for my clan as long as my prince permits me to do so."
Julian smiled as she spoke. Lillie was ever the diplomat, he thought. She had been able to hold her status within the clan, but left the final decision as to her position in the city up to the discretion of the prince. "Keep yourself and your clan out of trouble, and you will always be welcome at this table," Julian replied.
The prince then sat back and looked everyone over. Despite the hardships that had befallen them all over the past couple of weeks, they had come through intact. He liked to even think that they were all stronger for the experience. In that thought, he mirrored the beliefs of Thorne – only the strongest survived these great conflicts, and the childer they created reflected that strength. The bloodlines would grow stronger.
Epilogue
Rayce walked into Chalkers, the pool hall where Rica and Bottle Rocket hung out with their little coterie. While neither of the kindred had yet sired another of their kind, Rayce knew that it was only a matter of time. After all, everyone in their gang was already a ghoul, a fact which in itself was a threat to the Masquerade. He would have to do something about the situation.
"Hey, the boss-man cometh from on high to play pool with the little people," Bottle Rocket said with a smile.
"What, did you get lost or something?" Rica added, grinning widely.
"I need to talk to you both," Rayce said urgently. He then motioned to the four ghouls that the two Brujah had with them at all times. "Bring them along. It concerns them too."
"Whoa, sounds serious," Bottle Rocket said, half-laughing as he followed the Brujah primogen out of the pool hall.
Rayce led the group around a corner and into an alley. As soon as they were out of sight, he drew a MAC-10 with an attached silencer and mowed down all of the ghouls. Before Bottle Rocket and Rica could react to the attack, they were both lying on the ground, their knees shot out.
"What the hell are you doing?" Bottle Rocket screamed.
"Shut up and listen to me!" Rayce responded intensely. "The creation of ghouls endangers the Masquerade. It should be undertaken with great care. You two did not show any discretion in making them, so I killed them. Such carelessness should never go unpunished. In the days of Eddie Fiori, you would both have been praised for disregarding the Traditions in order to serve your own goals. In the days of Cameron, your sloppiness would have been overlooked because you are both the epitome of what so many think it is to be Brujah." He looked the two over briefly before he finished, trying to decide if they had any idea what fate he had decided for them.
"These are the days of Rayce," the new Brujah primogen continued. "First of all, I have no use for you, you're nothing more than the descendants of Troile. The greatness of Brujah is lost on you. Secondly, since I am now in a position to do something about you both, I have decided to indulge myself." He fired again, emptying the clip into the two Brujah on the ground. They were both completely incapacitated, though still alive. "The only Brujah that will exist in this city are the ones that I approve of. That means my childer, and the last of Cameron's childer that I talked him into embracing. Scum like you are being erased from the local scenery." With one quick motion he drew his katana, and took both heads with one slice of the sword.
He then gathered up the two vampires' bodies and carried them to the car he had 'borrowed' for the occasion. He put the two inside, and then lit the car, leaving the flames to cover up any evidence as to the occupants' true nature. He did not bother moving the bodies of the ghouls, as they would eventually be found and taken down to the morgue, perhaps to be identified by someone who had not forgotten that they still existed.
As he walked down the street, enjoying the night air, Rayce started to wonder what he should do about Sasha. She would most likely cause him a problem. She was as reckless and irresponsible as both Bottle Rocket and Rica, but she had also been a mortal relative of the prince of the city. He could not just kill her. However, she also had something that Bottle Rocket and Rica lacked – a brain. He still held out hope that Sasha would be able to control the rage of her blood and begin to find peace and culture.
Rayce decided that he would watch Sasha, and see what effect Jenni had on her. It was his hope that the child vampire would help Sasha find purpose and responsibility. This would be Sasha's last chance, though. If Jenni did not help, then the prince's niece would have to have an accident. The integrity of the Brujah clan had to be protected, no matter who it was that stood in its way.
Fin
(Until the Next Chapter…)