3. Bullets, Bodies and Blood, Oh My!
All at once, people were screaming and shrieking and running all over the place. Armed men stood outside the shattered windows and opened up on the crowd even as the echoes of the explosion dissipated. Outside I could see thick black smoke and I could smell the blood being spilled as the attackers mowed down the patrons. My nostrils flared and the Beast strained to get out. I tried to find Sandrine amid the panicking crowd but couldn't see her. Every vampiric instinct was pushing me to get amongst it and bust some heads but without a weapon, I'd be walking into a meatgrinder. Even as I thought that comforting thought, a man in biker's leathers opened up a with a heavy-calibre handgun and suddenly I was on the floor, blood pouring out of the bullet wound in my head. Discretion being the better part of valour, I decided to play dead while I assessed the damage. From behind the bar, I heard the comforting sound of a twelve-gauge shotgun being racked as Pandora moved to defend her establishment. The shotgun boomed twice before another shot rang out and I heard Pandora go down. By some minor miracle, the shotgun clattered to the floor by my side and I managed to get my hand around it. Faintly I could hear Pandora's harsh respiration and knew she was still alive.
As I sat up, I realised my vision didn't seem nearly as sharp as it was moments ago and the pain in my head cranked up a notch. I touched the fingers of my left hand to where the pain was emanating and realised the bastard had shot out my eye. Which sounds worse than it actually was. I concentrated and felt the wound begin to close up. At least I wouldn't bleed out in the next few minutes. Healing the eye totally would likely require draining one of the uninvited guests dry. I opened the tube of the shotgun and found three more shells. Bracing myself against the side of the bar, I popped up and unloaded on the nearest gunman, the attackers now moving into the club proper. A thought way back in my mind was struggling to form itself but for the moment, the pain, constant gunfire and screams of the dying made thinking difficult. Sabbat? the voice in my head sent out. Not now, damn it! I sent back. I gunned down the first attacker, racked the slide and was about to take out the guy who was stalking towards my position when the same bastard who'd shot me the first time, raised his hand cannon and hit me again. The bullet took me high in chest and shattered my collar bone. The pain combined with the loss of more of my vitae plus the scent of spilled human blood thick in my nose broke my hold over the Beast and it went berserk.
The next few moments are a blur. When I came back to myself, I was standing amid a pile of corpses and found the unnaturally pale body of a man clutched in my arms. Apparently after the Beast had cut loose, I'd beaten the attackers to death with my bare hands before grabbing the last guy and sucking the life out him. I blinked and both eyes responded. I opened my arms and the unwilling blood donor slithered to the floor with a thump. There was still a dull ache in my shoulder and I felt the bones knitting together. I stood upright and surveyed the carnage. Bodies of patrons were everywhere and the scent of blood was almost overpowering. Behind the bar, Pandora was on her feet, weaving slightly as she moved. She'd taken a round to the stomach and, normally, an injury like that would mean a slow and agonising death without medical attention. Being a ghoul though, her body would likely be using the vamp blood to heal the worst of the damage. She'd need a fresh dose to finish the job though.
That thought led me to Pandora's vampire master...the Prince. Who I'd lost sight of the moment the festivities broke out. I crossed to Pandora, stepping over the bullet-riddled clubbers and trying not slip in the blood. Pandora looked about to collapse so I got an arm around her and guided her to a nearby table. I shoved a body out of the chair and sat her down. She nodded gratefully. In the distance I could hear approaching police sirens and the differently-toned call of ambulances. "We can't be here when the cops arrive," I said.
Pandora started to rise and winced in pain. "I need to find Sandrine...if she's...gone.." The implications of the Prince's death would affect the entire city and likely spark all-out war between the Camarilla, Anarchs and Sabbat. "Sandine!" I yelled. Nothing. Oh, this was very bad. I tried to remember where on the dance-floor she had been when the fun started. Close to the window wall. Oh Jesus. "Sandrine!" I shouted again. I heard a door open and close and looked up to see Sandrine. She was a mess. Her dress was shredded and she was sticky with blood. Not hers though. I'd been around long enough to know the scents of each clan. "Morgan?" she asked, "Are you alright?"
"Well, let's see. I was shot in the eye, then took a round that shattered my collar bone, then I lost control of the Beast and pretty much slaughtered your unwelcome guests. How are you?" Sandrine looked a bit stunned.
"I was knocked down by the initial blast, a lot of kine sheltered me from the worst of it," she looked around sadly, "When I realised what was happening, I used my Fortitude discipline to protect myself while I fought off the immediate threats. One of them fled to the bathroom where I just came from...dealing with him."
"Master...I need blood," Pandora said, sounding like a lost little girl. Sandrine crossed to her and comforted the younger woman. I turned away as Sandrine opened a vein and Pandora fed from her. The whole thing looked way too intimate to gawk at. I occupied myself inventorying the bad guys' firepower. The guy who'd shot me was armed with a Desert Eagle. Bugger me, and I thought the .45 I had at home was big. I picked it up, ejected the half-empty mag and patted down the body until I found two spare mags and a switchblade. The guy was about my height and my clothes were awash with my own blood. I quickly stripped off my old denim jacket, glad I'd left my leather one in the suitcase and also pulled off my T-shirt. The dead guy's shirt and jacket were a little large on me but I was too glad to be wearing relatively clean clothes to care.
Another gunman had what looked like an M4 assault rifle. I snagged that as well as a few spare mags. "Rock and roll," I muttered. I turned to see Pandora looking much better, the colour having returned to her face. She'd retrieved her shotgun and walked towards me. Out front, the first cop cars had pulled up. "Ah hell," I said. Sandrine looked perfectly calm which probably meant she had a solution.
"You two head out the back entrance and wait for me in the staff car park. I'll deal with the local constabulary," she ordered. She must have used a touch of her Dominate ability because I didn't even bother to protest. Pandora led me out the back where we waited.
While we waited for Sandrine to, presumably, warp the minds of the police, I asked Pandora if she knew of any reason why somebody would go to so much trouble to shoot her place up.
"Behind on your rent?" I asked as I leaned back against the wall.
"I own this place lock stock and barrel. Actually the Camarilla does," she answered, chewing on her lower lip. "Those guys weren't working for the Sabbat or Anarchs. At least I didn't recognise any of them."
"A thought was trying to make itself heard before but I was too messed up to think properly at the time..." I trailed off and let my mind wander. My eyes went unfocused as various possibilities came and went. Gang violence? No, these guys were too well equipped to be gangbangers. The Anarchs or Sabbat trying something? Possibly but I doubted they'd send only humans without any vamp backup. Something to keep in mind though.
I heard footsteps approaching from inside the club and stepped into the shadows, Pandora following me. I removed the fifty cal from my waistband and racked the slide. If whoever it was wasn't Sandrine coming back, they were going to get a nice, big surprise. The door opened and Sandrine appeared. I sighed and put the hand-cannon back on safe. "Cops?" I asked.
"I convinced them that there were no survivors and they're busy playing CSI back there," she answered. I looked Sandrine over. The girl was practically naked, the dress now nothing more than a few scraps of bloodied material that clung to her body, her pale skin daubed with drying blood. I removed my borrowed jacket and passed it to her. She accepted it gratefully and slipped into it. On her small frame, it was more like a trenchcoat. She shoved the sleeves up over her arms and hissed in annoyance as they slid back past her hands.
"So, what now?" I asked. I checked my watch. It wasn't much past ten.
"After I convinced the police to completely ignore my presence, I took a good look at our attackers' faces. They're members of Louis' security team," Sandrine said.
"Guh? Louis your Sheriff?" I said. I could feel my mouth gaping open like a fish. Pandora swore.
"Yes, Louis, my Sheriff," Sandrine said quietly. From where I was standing I could almost feel the rage emanating from her and the look in her hazel eyes bordered on murderous.
"Why?" I asked. The whole point of a Sheriff was to protect the Prince.
"I rather think he's trying to have me killed so he can take my place," Sandrine said, quieter still. Pandora rolled her eyes, "Louis couldn't run a chook raffle," she said. "He must be working with somebody else, somebody's pulling his strings." Sandrine nodded. Sadly, I was in the dark.
"The Sabbat would never ally themselves with those they see as being weak, so that leaves the Anarchs," Sandrine answered and began to walk away. Pandora and I followed.
"Why would the Anarchs help him take over?" I asked.
"My guess is that they want to use Louis and his people to kill me and destabilise the Camarilla so that they can force us out of the city," Sandrine said as we entered a darkened alleyway.
"And Louis doesn't realise he's being played?" I responded. The guy looked like a shaved gorilla but he couldn't possibly be that stupid.
"The head of the local Anarchs is a Toreador by the name of Cyrus," Sandrine explained.
"Ah," I said. We Toreador, over the centuries have acquired a reputation for being able to make people dance like puppets. I don't go in for covert manipulation - I like to do things the direct way. "And you think that Cyrus manipulated Louis into striking at you by letting him think they'd let him keep control of the city?"
"Indeed," Sandrine said and fell silent. We'd come out of the alleyway and were standing on a street corner that, for now was deserted. Sandrine turned to Pandora. "Find a phone and assemble the rest of the clan," Sandrine instructed her. "Tell them to meet us at the safe location. Then find somewhere safe and wait for me to contact you."
"Master, let me come with you.." Pandora stopped talking as Sandrine gently placed a finger on her lips. "Shhh. Assemble the clan and wait for my call. Know that you are special to me and that I'll be with you again soon." Pandora almost swooned under the influence of Sandrine's Presence then pulled away and left us.
"What was that about?" I asked.
"We have no way of knowing how far Louis' betrayal has spread through the Camarilla but I can trust the members of my own bloodline," she replied.
"You're sure?" I asked doubtfully.
"I Embraced each of them myself down through the years and the command of the blood is strong. They can be trusted."
I decided to put my faith in the Ventrue. Her own life was at stake after all and after two centuries, I imagine you learned how to protect yourself from the machinations of idiotic Brujah.
