Drake led his pack back along Front Street towards Centre Island where they had their haven. The pack was quite literally flying off the lampposts and buildings that they passed; they were so pumped from the fight.
"Wasn't it great?" Spike, a blue mohawked Brujah demanded of the black trench coat clad man walking next to him.
"Yes," Salem nodded, grinning at him. "Meer fought well. I picked up a few tricks."
"Damn, she was rad!" Spike crowed. "That old fart didn't stand a chance against our Meer!"
Salem watched with amusement as Spike lashed out with his fists at Dennis, a slow-witted Malkavian who promptly fought back. Salem had enjoyed the fight the same as the others, but it had had special interest for him. It wasn't common knowledge, but his true blood Sire was Meer and he was eager for the woman to do well. His acknowledged Sire, Maggie, was of Clan Nosferatu and he loved her dearly, but Meer had always had a place in his heart for the Gift she had given him.
However painfully.
Salem walked a little faster and caught up to Drake who was walking silently alone.
"Thinking big thoughts, Kemo Sabe?" Salem inquired, cocking an eyebrow at his packleader.
"Yeah, actually," Drake nodded, not playing along with Salem for once. "Salem, what did you get out of tonight's fight?"
"A sore neck from the rampant use of Celerity?" Salem quipped with a grin.
"Seriously, asshole," Drake growled, smacking his arm.
"Ow!" Salem rubbed his arm, although the blow hadn't hurt very much. "Ok, seriously. Well, we have a new Archbishop, which should tighten things up around here a bit. Probably take some time though."
"Agreed," Drake nodded. "What else?"
Salem screwed up his face and thought. "There will be a new packleader for Meer's pack, I gather. She won't be able to handle her pack and her new duties."
"Agreed again," Drake said. "Any thoughts on who that would be?"
"Mmm, Christine probably," Salem said slowly. "She's been second in command since Gabriel the Tzimisce was killed."
"You're probably right," Drake looked around to make sure the rest of the pack was still following. They were, of course. "What else did you learn?"
Salem thought back. "Oh! We'll have to have a new Bishop."
"Right," Drake said gloomily. "That's the one I'm worried about."
"Why?" Salem inquired. "How does it affect you?"
Drake stared at him. "Sometimes I forget how young you really are, Salem. You don't know how a Bishop is chosen?"
"Nope," Salem shook his head. "Same way as Archbishop? But there's no one to call Monomacy on now that Meer's been promoted."
"Exactly." Drake made his way to the front of the ferry for the trip. "Anyone in the area who wants the Bishop status is going to have to fight for it."
"With whom though?"
"With everyone else who wants the Bishop status."
Salem stared at him. "That's going to be one hell of a mess. I can think of at least three packleaders who'd want it. Not to mention a number of underlings."
"Underlings won't stand a chance," Drake replied. "Only packleaders will be considered. You have to work your way up in the ranks."
"Golly gee, I can't be Bishop?" Salem heaved a mock sorrowful sigh. "I'm bitterly disappointed."
"Yeah, I'll just bet," Drake laughed. "Out of curiosity though, whom do you see in contention?"
Salem held up a hand and started ticking off fingers. "Shelley. Vince. You."
"Shelley and I, yes," Drake nodded. "I'm going to fight for it. Except for Meer, I'm the oldest in the city. Vince, no."
"Why not?" Salem looked curiously at him. "He's ambitious."
"He's also Tremere antitribu." When this earned a blank look, Drake explained. "Tremere can never rise above packleader status. It's a rule and it's never broken. He'd get munched fast by the higher-ups if he tried for Bishop."
"Weird," Salem shook his head. "Ok, so you and Shelley. You can whup her. Anyone else?"
"Yes, actually, quite a few," Drake said gloomily. "Christine will go for it if she's made packleader. I wouldn't be surprised if Brujah-Boy goes for it. Jesse and Ysabel possibly, although if they do, I think they'll concentrate on each other first which would give me time to get rid of the others."
"Whoa," Salem held up a hand, his eyes wide. "'Get rid of'? Is this a fight to the death?"
"Probably," Drake nodded. "It usually has been in the past. Or at least a fight to the maim."
Salem laughed. "A fight to the maim, huh? Cute. Ok, so you maim everyone else and you become Bishop. Right?"
"That's the idea."
"It's a mighty good one."
"I thought so."
Drake and Salem exchanged grins as the ferry docked and they, with the rest of the pack bouncing along behind them, headed for the haven.
The large pack waited on tenterhooks for Meer, their up-until-tonight packleader, to speak. They had been yelling themselves hoarse at her triumph and there had been a gluttony of feeding all the way back to their home turf. Meer had been quiet most of the way, her second-in-command Christine walking beside her just as silently. When they reached the communal haven the pack had quickly settled down onto the couches and chairs within and turned eager faces towards Meer.
The Lasombra Archbishop studied her pack. She had been their leader and Bishop for nearly a hundred years now and it was going to be strange not running with them anymore. Oh, it didn't mean she couldn't run with them if she chose, but her duties would not allow it to become a regular occurrence. She needed to choose a new leader or she needed to let them fight it out amongst themselves. Meer didn't really want that; she loved the people in her pack, they were her family. Looking them over again, she finally held up a hand for silence.
"My packmates, although I have wanted this position I regret leaving you," she began. "It was time for a change and I felt I was the one best able to bring it about."
"And you were right," Christine put in with a smile. "Things are going to be better around here."
"Yes," Meer nodded with a grim smile. "Right now, though, this pack has no leader and I would not have any of you fight it out. There's going to be enough fighting soon. I, therefore, will appoint a packleader for you."
The pack leaned forward, awaiting her decision, although most suspected whom she would choose.
"Christine, Clan Brujah, you are hereby appointed packleader of the Blood Ravens," Meer turned and sent out a shadow tendril to encircle Christine's head gently before rising into the air and assuming the shape of a raven before dissolving back into shadow. "Lead them well and protect your turf against all encroachers."
"I accept this duty and will serve under you willingly," Christine replied ritually. "May the Blood Ravens never grow less."
"I object to this!"
Christine and Meer whirled to see a slim, dangerous looking member of their pack striding towards them.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Windsor?" Christine demanded.
"I'm objecting to this farce," Windsor the Lasombra snorted. "I've been a member of this pack longer than she has and I believe I have just as much right if not more to lead it."
There was a small chorus of "yeah!"s from other packmembers.
Meer studied him. "I have chosen Christine."
"Then I challenge Christine to the leadership of the pack." Windsor licked his lips and bared his fangs.
"Anytime you're willing, Shadow-Boy," Christine hissed at him, crouching into an offensive stance.
"No!" Meer stepped between them and both vampires backed away from her presence. "There will be no infighting. There are troubled times ahead and this pack should remain as one." Windsor began to protest and Meer cut him off with a glance. "If you feel that you can not remain under Christine's leadership, then get out."
Windsor's eyes widened. "I..."
Meer quelled him again. "I give you the area of Toronto between Coxwell and Islington, bordered as usual by Shelley and Drake. You will not challenge for Bishop and you will remain there until the position of Bishop is chosen. Only after that may you challenge for more hunting grounds. Do you understand?"
Windsor swallowed and nodded. "Yes, Archbishop. I understand."
Christine glared at him. "You have ten minutes to get lost, asshole."
Windsor looked back and two other packmembers, another Lasombra named Frieda and a Toreador named Jenni, stepped forward. Gathering a few items from their former sleeping places, the three left the haven.
Meer spoke a few quiet words to Christine then left herself. Christine, new packleader of the Blood Ravens, turned to survey her pack. They were diminished more now than they had ever been. Four Ravnos that had run with them for several years had left the moment Meer had announced that she planned to challenge the Arch Bishop. Gabriel the Tzimisce priest had been killed in a Camarilla raid in Scarborough not long before and now with Windsor and his cronies' defection, Christine's pack was down to six, including herself. Jeff, fellow Brujah, Colleen a flaky Malkavian, and three Panders, Stuart, Aaron and Nick, the latter having taken over priest duties. It was a far cry from the fourteen they had been before. Perhaps when they enlarged their pack for the fights, some good packmembers might result. Christine sat down heavily and the pack clustered closer. Jeff, her lover and best friend, plopped down onto her lap.
"So what now, oh illustrious pack leader?" he inquired.
"Now we figure out exactly what we're going to do," Christine replied, absently tickling his stomach. "You're Templar so start thinking about our course of action when we're attacked."
"By Windsor?" Aaron snorted a laugh. "That little punk can't even stand up to me and I'm Pander!"
"Windsor is the least of our problems, Aaron," Christine shook her head. "We need to worry about Shelley. And possibly Ysabel and Jesse."
"Bishop status," Jeff breathed, his eyes widening. "Oh, Caine's Teeth, I forgot about that. You gonna run?"
"Of course," Christine shrugged. "The packleader of the Blood Ravens has always been Bishop."
"You've got stiff competition," Nick warned, picking up the Vaulderie bowl to prepare the Ritual. "Shelley, Jesse and Ysabel will definitely go for it."
"And Drake," Jeff reminded her. "He's gonna be stiffest I think."
Christine sighed and looked up at the ceiling. "Ok, let's figure out who in the city we have to worry about. Give me the pack names rather than the packleaders though. We'll be up against the whole pack."
"All right, then," Nick mused, thinking. "Caine's Thunder. Stealth. Dogs of War. Shadow Dragons."
"Higher Learning and the Ratpack are out of the running, I suspect," Aaron said thoughtfully. "Nos and Malks don't tend to get involved in higher politics."
"Yeah, and besides, those two are having far too much fun playing in Scarborough," Christine laughed. "Ok, scratch them off. Who else? Alleyn's Moondancers?"
"Considering you can never find the Gangrel bitch when you want her, I doubt highly she'll be running for Bishop," Jeff snorted. "She and her little friends of the earth spend more time playing in the trees than anything else."
"Ok, scratch her off too." Christine thought for a moment. "Vince's Dark Dweomer is out. But he might support me. What about Miyamoto's Pride?"
There was laughter from the whole pack at this. The Miyamoto's Pride packleader, the Toreador Genevieve, was more concerned with her social debauchery and standing to want to take on more responsibility. Caine forbid that duty should cut into her schedule!
"All right, all right," Christine smiled. "Brujah-Boy's Pack Rage will go for it."
"That's a stupid name," Jeff grumbled. "Pack and him. Doesn't he have a real name?"
"Yeah, but who remembers it?" Christine shrugged. "The idiot is the stereotypical Clan member we all try to be different from. He's such an ass. Only ever let Meer into his turf."
"He's gonna have to let you in now," Jeff pointed out.
"No, he'll have to let the new Bishop in," Christine corrected him.
"Which will be you."
"I hope so." She looked around. "I'm certainly going to fight for it. Are you all with me?"
Her pack chorused their approval and support.
Shelley ranged through the streets of downtown Toronto, her small pack spread out behind her. She was brooding, something that the forever young Tzimisce was prone to do anyway. This time, though, she was brooding about something other than herself. This time, her future was at stake and she was determined to make the most of this golden opportunity to advance.
She was going to be Bishop, damn it, if it killed her.
"Yo, Shell!"
A rangy older man loped up to her.
"What?" Shelley slanted him a glance.
"You want some food?" the man jerked a thumb behind them. "Rob found a daycare."
"No," Shelley said shortly. "I'll eat later."
"Sure," the man nodded agreeably and turned to go back to the buffet.
"Hey, Kieran?" Shelley called and the man looked back inquiringly. "Thanks."
Kieran stopped his forward movement and turned around, coming back up to her.
"All right," he said flatly. "What gives?"
"Pardon?"
"What's eating you, Shell? You never say thank you. And you love appetizers."
Shelley turned an impassive face on him. "Times change."
"You don't."
Shelley's impassive face turned cold. "You challenging my word, Kieran?"
"Hell, no," Kieran held up his hands. "Are you kidding me? You'd turn my face into an amusement park."
"You'd be wise to remember that," Shelley growled.
Kieran shrugged but continued walking beside her. After a moment, Shelley stopped in her tracks and rounded on him.
"Why are you following me?"
"You're my packleader," Kieran replied. "And your second in command got killed three weeks ago and you haven't replaced him yet. And I'm the oldest in the pack."
"So?" Shelley's tone was dangerous.
"So," Kieran let the word draw out. "You need a lieutenant."
"And why precisely should that be you?"
Kieran patted her head, a dangerous move. "I'm the oldest and the most qualified."
Shelley grabbed his arm, brutally twisting it up behind his back. Kieran arched backwards but made no sound. Shelley stroked a hand over his shoulder and fused his arm in that position before letting go. "Touch me again like that, dog, and I'll do more than this."
Kieran nodded, his face screwed up in pain. "You still need a lieutenant."
"Maybe," Shelley said moodily. "It still might not be you."
"Look who you have to choose from though," Kieran mentioned, as persuasive as he could be under the circumstances. "A Malkavian, a Nos and a Pander."
"Not to mention a Gangrel with a penchance for getting his body mangled," Shelley gave a half smile.
"Well, true," Kieran winced. "If I promise never to pat you again, will you fix me?"
"No, and asking just earned you an extra night with it." Shelley looked around, somewhat absently. "Kieran, I'm running for Bishop."
"Are you!" Kieran was immensely pleased. "Good! You'll win for sure."
"I'm glad you're so optimistic," Shelley snapped sarcastically. "I'm up against fuckin' Drake, Ysabel and Jesse and those are only the ones I'm certain of!"
"You know you can take out Ysabel and Jesse," Kieran argued. "Especially since they'll probably take each other out before you even get to them."
"And Drake?"
"Ok, he's a little tougher." Kieran stroked his chin with his one usable hand. "Maybe if we surprised him? Ganged up on him all of us?"
"It's a thought," Shelley mused. "If I can get close to him, I'll incapacitate him in one touch."
"That's the spirit!" Kieran crowed, punching at the air with his fist. "We'll take him out first then the rest will be easy!"
Shelley had to smile. Maybe it would work after all. She was the oldest in the city next to Drake - if she took him out first, then she would practically be a shoe in. Maybe she should gather the pack and see what sort of ideas they had. She would have to strike soon, or not at all. Drake would be thinking along the same lines and would be ready for something. But this soon after the Monomacy Challenge? She might have a chance.
She nodded decisively. Yes, she'd meet with her pack and they would decide the best plan. Maybe she'd even give Kieran back his arm after a few hours for his suggestion.
Nah.
The shadows rolled and swirled around the area and the vampire approaching could see nothing but black mist. Stopping involuntarily before the wall of shadows, the vampire strained to see within.
Nothing.
"Hello?"
"You are late," came a slow, tired, guttural voice from within the darkness.
"The traffic was horrible," the vampire replied. "I'm sorry."
"Don't let it happen again." There was a shifting pause. "News?"
"The Lasombra Meer won and is now Archbishop," the vampire recited thoughtfully. "She chose Christine, a Brujah, to succeed her and the Blood Ravens split up."
"I know all this," the tired voice sounded impatient. "More?"
"Drake is ready to fight, as are Shelley and Christine," the vampire continued. "Jesse and Ysabel ready themselves to attack each other."
"Neither will survive, I've grown tired of their childish antics," the voice murmured. "The other three will be amusing to watch."
Emboldened by what seemed to be approval, the vampire continued. "Spiral and Rat do nothing that I can discover. The others do not seem to be interested."
There was silence and the vampire waited on tenterhooks.
"I have decided who shall be the winner," the voice finally said. "Watch and listen, you may learn something."
"Yes, of course," the vampire commented, disappointed.
"Now go, I do not wish to be disturbed again until you have something important to report."
The vampire turned and left as the shadows darkened to utter blackness.