Hello again loyal readers, and thank you for being patient with me after all this time. Somehow I managed to be even more busy during quarantine than I was before, so my planned flood of writing became a mere trickle. Life goes that way sometimes - our attempts at plans and control only amuse the gods.
A special thanks for my loyal fans - To kadythethief, for being my biggest fangirl. To some guy in an ambulance for getting my obscure pokitical references. To answer your question, the game takes place in 2003, I believe. To Dezcon, for sticking with my story despite initial reservations. To 2lazytologin, for being incredibly enthusiastic every time I post an update - sorry for taking so long. To Sam the Binge Reader - no sex, it was all just feeding, which is supposedly just as pleasurable. I've avoided including erotica in Bitter Escape, as I am going for a darker, more serious tone. Not that I would never include it, but I will only put it in if my loyal fans ask for it. To JimmyHall24, for being my newest reader!
Without further rambling, let us join Lucius as he flees from the scene of his most recent crime...
Chapter 42 - Plans and Recollections
As I ran at top speed through the sewers, my earlier joy at my success gave way to hunger and exhaustion. I'd been running for about fifteen minutes, and I assumed I was well ahead of any pursuers. I began to slow down, my sprint becoming a mere run, then a jog, and finally I was walking, looking around for a ladder leading up to the street.
"Freeze, motherfucker!" screamed a cop who stepped around a corner just ahead of me, gun now pointed right at my face. I froze, more from shock than anything else. How the hell... they must have sent units ahead in cars and sent them down manholes. Shit. The officer's face was screwed up into a mixture of hatred and contempt. "You know, I'm tempted to shoot you right in your face. Say you resisted. What do you think of that, cop-killer? You gonna make a move? Or just stand there, frozen in terror, like a little bitch?"
I decided to do both, staying completely still while making a move. Staring the man right in the eyes, I repeated his command back to him, telling him to, "Freeze." He went rigid, eyes bulging in terror, his arm shaking as he tried desperately to pull the trigger. I smiled wickedly as I approached him, stepping to the left, out of the way of his gun barrel. I circled around the cop as I approached him. He tried to keep looking at me, but couldn't even move his head – only his eyes, which he strained far to the right as he tried to keep me in sight. As I moved behind him, out of sight, he began to whimper in terror. Licking my lips, I drove my fangs right into his neck.
His sweet lifeblood flooded into me, sating that desperate thirst, filling me with orgasmic pleasure, that rush of power and life. His life flew through my mind. His childhood was filled with too many action movies, and he came to think he was living in Die Hard, wanted desperately to be in a firefight, to be a hero. When he heard about the manhunt for me, he'd rushed ahead, jumping down a manhole before backup arrived so he could be the one to catch me. I pulled my fangs from him as the pleasure nearly reached a climax, as his life was nearly extinguished by my hunger. The officer fell against me, helpless and weak, the endless hours at the gym doing him no good – muscles can't work without blood. I licked the puncture wounds closed, then let him fall to the floor. Taking out my silenced handgun, I put a bullet in the man's head.
I stood there for a few moments, the elation of pleasure and power wrestling with the fear of being caught. Visualizing a light within a dark void, I found calm and began thinking carefully. I can't just keep running. Soon there are going to be cops all over the sewers, ahead and behind. Shit. Still... this guy rushed ahead of the other cops. If I can get topside and hide away from the manhole covers, avoid the patrols... a lot of ifs, but that's all I have to work with. I can't stay here. I quickly sprinted away from the body, putting distance between myself and the murder. After running for a bit, I slowed down, again searching for a ladder. I soon found one and moved over to it. Standing at its base, I looked up and used Auspex. I saw an aura through the concrete – but only one. I gathered my resolve, figuring that if it was one cop, I could handle him. I climbed up and opened the manhole cover, popping my head out.
I was in a dingy alley covered in trash, filled with dumpsters and boxes and metal trashcans that the trash never seemed to reach. I crawled out quickly once I confirmed I wasn't in immediate danger, closing the manhole behind me. Then I heard the sharp intake of breath, and I turned sharply, looking for the person was with me in the alley. I found him – huddled under a blanket that had been draped between two dumpsters, creating a makeshift shelter. He peered out through a narrow gap in the makeshift tent. The man pulled his eye away from the blanket, but it was too late – he'd been seen. I rushed over, pulling my gun and pulling up one flap of the blanket, forcing my way into this man's home.
The man had his back against the wall. He crouched on the balls of his heels, ready to flee. He looked at me with fear and immediately put his hands in the air. He wore dirty jeans, a green army jacket covered in grime, and a red baseball cap. His face was covered in stubble and grime, expression a grimace of fear, teeth varying from yellow to black. His grey eyes, bulging from his head, were alert and wide. "I won't say a word," he told me in a gravelly voice. "The cops, they'll just arrest me. You – you're why the cops are flipping out, aren't you? They're pissed, swarming like a kicked anthill. I was trying to hide here, let 'em move past. Look, come on in. Get outta sight. I can help you – just, please, don't kill me, man"
His plea moved me. I remembered that this was a human being I was dealing with – the way I'd been ready to casually kill him shocked me. I suddenly realized I was exposed, holding a gun out. Hide!It took me only a moment to take him up on one offer – I moved into his home quickly. A small hole in the 'roof' let in light from a nearby streetlamp, though not much. Still, it was more than enough to see by. His home was full of bags, many stuffed full of clothing or food. My mind worked furiously, deciding whether I could afford to let this man live. He'd seen my face – he would probably give me up for a reward. You can't trust him – kill him to be safe! But, on the other hand, I had more immediate problems – cops would presumably be here soon, as I had no doubt they were putting officers at every manhole within a mile. I had to disguise myself or run – now. I made a quick decision. "Alright," I told the bum, "help me hide from the cops and I'll reward you. Betray me, you die. Deal?"
"Deal," he replied, and I put my gun away, causing my companion to relax a little for the first time since we'd met. He immediately began digging in one of his shopping bags. "Ya gotta take off that hat and jacket," he said, pulling out various clothing items. I hesitated – I didn't like having my overcoat arsenal out of reach. Still, those were the two most identifiable clothing items on me. I set my hat down, then peeled off my overcoat,.
The bum handed me a pair of stained jeans and a grey hoodie. I pulled the jeans on over my dress pants, and put the hoodie on over my suit jacket. I took my knife and tire iron from my overcoat and stuffed them into my jacket pockets, under the sweatshirt – neither of those items would be too suspicious, while the guns would be. The hoodie bulged a little, but not too obviously. The bum gave me a black jacket with brown patches on the elbows. Putting it on, I looked at my reflection in a nearby puddle, and realized that I just looked fat with all the layers, none of the bulges standing out. "A good enough disguise," I told the bum, "though it could use, I don't know, a little more to-" I was cut off as the man held out a simple wool cap and fingerless gloves. Putting both on, I had to admit I certainly looked the part.
"Here," the man aid, handing me one of his shopping bags. "Put your clothes in here. We should probably ditch 'em" I put my clothing away, but I was hoping to avoid having to throw them away – I'd hate to lose my overcoat and everything in it. I stuffed my discarded clothing deep into the bag, making sure it was surrounded by rags and couldn't be seen.
The bum reached down, grabbing something from the base of the dumpster before extending two handfuls of some dark substance. "Rub this on yourself, especially your face and hands." I eyed this strange substance askance. "It's just dirt," he told me, reassuring me. Seeing the logic, I again complied. The bum held his chin, thinking, then handed me a forty-ounce bottle of beer. "Pour a little on yourself. It smells strong – it'll be the only thing the cops smell. They'll write you off as a drunk bum right away – not a threat, not worth lookin' at. Drink some too, so it's on your breath. And you better buy me another one – or two." Unscrewing the cap, I took a whiff and had to agree – it smelled like fermented filth. I took a swig, the taste nearly making me vomit – and not just because I can't stomach anything but blood or water. I spit the vile liquid out, though only some reached the ground, and some ended up running down my hoodie. Pouring a little one me, the final detail completed my perfect disguise.
Handing back the bottle of beer, I carefully considered this man who'd come to my aid most fortuitously. He took a long swig of the alcohol, and I could see from his aura he was nervous – but not very. He was mostly resigned. "Thanks," I told the man. "You're pretty quick on your feet – and pretty calm, considering."
Finishing his swig, he wiped his mouth and shrugged. "Gotta keep a level head to survive on the streets. I learned to keep my head back in 'Nam. Old army skills keep me alive in this fucking concrete jungle. Anyway, I figure if you're gonna kill me, not much I can do. Just gotta make myself useful and pray. Now, we ought get outside, stand around real obvious-like. Cops get suspicious if you try and hide."
"Weren't you trying to hide in here until the cops were gone?" I asked.
"Yeah, but that was before I realized I was in the heart of the storm. They're gonna find us – we just gotta hope they let us go. C'mon." With that, he stepped out of his makeshift tent.
I wasn't exactly reassured, but I was a lot calmer than I'd been when I first emerged into this alley. I stepped out into that alley, bright in comparison to the tent or sewers but dim by any other standard. Standing awkwardly with the man, I decided to relax with nicotine. I dug into the bag, searching for my coat, searching through the pockets. I almost pulled out the fancy Turkish cigarettes, then realized that could stand out. I took out my old pack of Mavericks, instead. Pulling one out, I offered another to my companion, who accepted with a grateful grunt. I lit us both up and allowed the comforting ritual to relax me. Right as I began to feel a little secure, flashing lights began reflecting off the alley walls.
I tensed, ready to use Purge and kill if need be. "Relax," the man whispered. "I mean, seem nervous, but not like you're ready to fight. Bums, we keep our heads down, don't buck."
A cop stood at the end of the alley, shining a blindingly bright flashlight right at us, pulling a gun a the instant he saw us. "Freeze! Hands up!"
We both complied immediately. I had a cigarette in one hand, plastic bag in the other. A second bright, glaring flashlight beam shot at us, blinding us, forcing us to squint and look away. I forced myself to breathe slowly, to appear alive and keep from panicking, from feeling caught and desperate. Sure, they were just humans, but if my face had been seen, if it was entered as wanted into the police system, if they realized and raised the alarm... Kill them all and run! Get out of here, now! I cut off my morbid thoughts and my Beast with the light and void. I kept my calm as footsteps echoed down the alley.
As the footsteps got closer, a voice, different from the first, said, "Oh, hey, it's Old Bill. I know this bum, he was in 'Nam, like me. How are you doing, Bill?"
"Alright, I guess," my companion, Bill, replied. "Just sipping on a forty with my new pal, counting the money we made today, thinking about going to the corner store to get a another forty and another pack of cigarettes. We've got just enough change between the two of us, I think, so I figure it should be a good night. How are you doing tonight? Is that you, Jim?"
It was still impossible to see who we were talking to, the two high-powered flashlights completely blinding even my supernatural senses. "Yeah, it's me, Jim," the nicer cop said. "Tran, turn off the light, we don't have to blind 'em."
The closer light went off, allowing our eyes to look forward and adjust, revealing an older face, in his 50s, clean-shaven and maybe good-looking once, but now covered in wrinkles, hard, grizzled. The other light, however, remained on, and instead, focused squarely on me. "Who are you?" asked Tran, the cop who'd first seen us and pulled a gun on us.
"Uh, I'm Louie," I replied, lame and unprepared.
"Got any ID, Louie? You live around here?"
I replied slowly, making my voice nervous – it wasn't hard. "Um, no ID, sorry. I, uh, I live here and there. I live around here, now. The part of town I was staying before... it got dangerous."
Jim stepped in, telling me, "It's not exactly safe around here right now."
"It's not safe anywhere," I replied, glad to have one friendly judge. "Still, some places are worse than others."
"Fair enough," Jim replied. "Look, you two need to clear out, we've got to-"
"Clear out?" Tran demanded, incredulously. I still couldn't see him with his flashlight shining at me. "We need to take these two in, question them, see if they've seen anything!"
My heart jumped into my chest and I prepared to kill and flee. "Look," Jim told Tran, "they're just two bums. If this perp had come through, they'd be dead or running. We take 'em in now, we might miss this psycho crawling out of the sewers. Hell, we ought to have our guns trained on the manhole already." Jim's flashlight came back on, swinging around to point at the manhole I'd crawled out of, gun coming out of his holster to point at it as well. "Look, chief made it clear – all units on this case, catch this bastard at all costs. Yeah, we could bust these two for drunk in public and whatever drugs they might have, but I promise chief won't be impressed by that – he'll be pissed. Right now, we got bigger problems to deal with."
Tran was silent, thinking for a bit. "We should still question them," he insisted – but he was basically conceding. Relief passed through me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. I tried to resume normal respiration.
"Go ahead, then" Jim replied.
Tran shone his flashlight away from me, finally, and over to Bill, asking him "You see anything strange or unusual, like someone coming out of the sewers?"
To Bill's immense credit and my immense relief, Bill didn't miss a beat replying. "No sir, nothing strange like that. I stay away from anyone that comes out of the sewers – some bums go down there, and they're all... loony. Psycho. And disgusting, even by my standards. Anyway, nah, would've noticed something like that."
Tran shifted the light over to me. Yet again caught flat-footed, I just shrugged. "Yeah, like Bill said, haven't seen anything,"
Tran still wasn't convinced. "You trust them?"
Jim said, "Louie I don't know, but Bill I do. He doesn't lie outright. Sure, he'll exaggerate, but he's honest – for a bum."
Tran thought for a bit longer. "Fine. Get the hell out of here, you two. We've got a fugitive we're trying to apprehend in this alley. You're in the way."
"Yes sir, good luck tonight," Bill said, grabbing his blanket, bedroll, and bags in one rapid motion, walking away quickly a moment later. I followed on his heels, glad to be escaping the law by the skin of my fangs.
Once we were out of the alley, the tension left me, and I relaxed by smoking the half-burnt cigarette I'd had in my hand during the whole encounter. Bill smoked and drank his forty as we walked down the street, chugging the beer until it was gone, then tossing the bottle into another nearby alley. We were walking along the sidewalk openly, making no move to hide ourselves, clearly visible in the streetlights. I became uneasy again, and quietly asked, "Shouldn't we stick to the alleys or something?"
"Nah," Bill replied. "Sneaking around would just make us look sketchy. Cops'll be in the alleys, no avoiding them, really. Just gotta walk along all normal-like and hope they don't hassle us. There's a corner store a few blocks away, not far. The owner's cool with me – he'll let us hang out in the back if we buy enough stuff. We can lay low there, if you spend some money. Since I'm helping you, least you can do is buy me some food, some cigarettes, and some more beer."
"Yeah, sure," I agreed, a simple enough bribe. I looked over my grizzled companion, his face done up in a gap-toothed smile that even reached his grey eyes, crows feet radiating out the sides of his eyes. The smile left his face after a moment, and his face took on a hard, chiseled expression – wary, hunted, yet unafraid, bold even. His eyes went back to covertly searching the shadows around him, scanning by instinct. I realized that I was doing the same thing. There was something bestial, some primal survival instinct alive in Bill that was absent in most humans. I asked him, "You're pretty nonchalant about all this. How are you so calm in the face of possible arrest?"
Bill chuckled and shrugged. "Look, homeless people have to live with the threat of jail all the time – cops can and will arrest the homeless for anything. Most of the time, you just roll the dice. They usually have something better to do than hassle you, you just gotta move along when they tell you to and don't drink too openly. Hell, jail isn't that bad. I only get busted for petty shit, so I do a few weeks here, a couple months there. When the weather gets cold, jail's an upgrade for me – soft bed, roof over my head, three square meals a day, you don't quite freeze in the winter... almost reminds me of boot camp. That was the last time my life made any goddamn sense. Anyway, it gets old after a bit, but I'm never in there that long. I've been through worse." Bill's attitude blew my mind – I'd stayed out of trouble my whole life. Jail had been this terrifying, almost mythical hell to me, but this guy treated it like it was nothing more than a free, shitty motel.
Before I could say anything in response, Bill pointed to the right, around a corner we had just reached. "There it is, at the end of the block. C'mon, let's get in there before the cops harass us." He walked off briskly, and I followed rapidly, the two of us quickly making it into the fluorescent-lit sanctuary within the dark surrounding slums.
The place was garish, bright light bouncing off white floors and shelves, almost blinding me as soon as I walked in out of the darkness. It seemed clean, though, which was nice. An old man with wisps of white hair along the sides of his head sat behind the counter, behind a solid wall of plastic with metal grating inside. The only opening in the armor was a small hole in the bottom for transactions. The man seemed to have a permanent scowl on his leathery, wrinkled face, though it softened a little at the sight of Bill. "Hey old-timer," he said amiably. That was before he looked at me, causing his scowl to return in full force. "Who's this loser? I told you not to bring your bum friends around to harass my customers and steal from me."
Bill ignored the commentary and replied to the question. "He's Louie. He's alright. He's got cash to buy stuff."
"He better," the old man spat. He stared me right in the eyes. "You steal, I shoot first, then call the cops."
I nodded, putting the most serious expression on my face I could muster. "I'll pay for everything I take, I swear." I mean it, too. I've got lots of cash right now. Real hardass, this guy.
"You better," the old man growled. "I got my eye on you." Bill had already walked over to the closed glass doors with beer inside, and I moved quickly to follow him.
Standing next to Bill as he pulled out a pair of forty-ounce bottles of malt beer, I whispered to him, "Your friend is a jerk."
Bill shrugged. "Yeah, he is. You try running a corner store in Skid Row, see how nice you end up." Oh, shit, I'm in the middle of Skid Row? No wonder everything is one giant slum! Skid Row is a part of downtown LA that's famous for all the wrong reasons. Just to the east of the skyscrapers and fancy restaurants is a small part of downtown that's utterly rundown, full of the homeless, the desperate, entire tent cities of them in some places. My parents had always told me to stay away from here, that I'd be robbed or killed. Looking at my new companion, examining what I understood about his life, I realized how small-minded their proscriptions had been. Still, I'm sure my parents had only wanted to keep my safe. "Still," Bill continued, "Dennis likes me since we were both in 'Nam. That, and because I never even think of stealing. Oh, by the way, can I get some cash for myself? It'll be weird if you pay for everything."
Nodding, I reached under my jeans, pulling my wallet from my suit pants pocket. Rifling through it, I pulled out two twenties and handed them to Bill, whose eyes had widened. He immediately grabbed them from my hand. I pulled a few bills out and put them in my jeans pocket, figuring it would look odd pulling my wallet out of my pants, as would pulling out a wallet full of money. As I did this, Bill walked over to the counter, buying the forty-ounces, a couple sandwiches, and a few packs of cigarettes with his new money. Looking behind the counter, I saw the only thing I really wanted in this store.
Bill finished buying his items, and I stepped up to the counter. Dennis squinted at me suspiciously when he saw that I didn't have anything in my hands. He stared right into my plastic bag, before turning his grey, baleful eyes on me, asking me, "What do you want?"
Pointing behind the man, I said, "I need a cell phone, Cheapest one you have."
He looked back briefly before grabbing a small black flip-phone in plastic casing. Narrowing his eyes at me again, the man told me, "It's sixty dollars, comes with forty minutes already loaded onto it." When I pulled out three twenties to pay, the old man's eyes narrowed even further. "Where'd you get bills that big from, bum?"
Bill stepped in with a quick explanation. "Louie and I found some work. Well, I found it, but Louie came along. It's just manual labor, helping at a construction site. That's why we need a phone – so they can call us if they need more help."
The old man stared me over, unbearably suspicious, his mouth twisted into a sour expression. Eventually, though, he relented, saying, "Well, he still looks like one of the bad ones to me. But I trust you, Bill. So I'll believe you." He turned back to me. "I just wanted to make sure it's honest money. I hate thieves." He took the money, and I took the phone.
Bill asked Dennis, "Can we hang around out back? While we set up the phone, make some calls?"
Dennis nodded, pushing a button that popped a nearby door open. "Go through the storage room. There's cameras in there, and I'll have my eye on your friend. He can dig through the trash out back if he wants some free shit."
I gave the man a tight smile. "Thanks. Your generosity is astounding." The storekeeper gave a sour chuckle before turning to a bank of screens, all camera feeds – except one, which was showing the news.
As I followed Bill through the door, the old man turned up the volume on the TV, and I heard the newscaster announce, "Thankfully, staff didn't hesitate to evacuate the entire Hotel as soon as they heard gunfire, so no one was hurt in the shootout – except, of course, for the police officers caught in what is being described as some kind of mob war. As far as we can tell, the two sides in this fight – what police suspect may have been the Russian mafia, and some other, unknown criminal organization – all but slaughtered one another. There is only one survivor, the one seen in the incredible footage of his escape from the scene of the crime. He is the only remaining suspect and possible source of answers. The suspect was last seen wearing a long grey coat and a black fedora. Unfortunately, the only footage available is distant and grainy, with no clear shot of the suspect's face. We have no further details or description. Police are offering up to ten thousand dollars for any information about the incident or the fugitive, and-"
The sound of the TV cut off as I stepped through the doorway and let the doors close behind me. I walked through a darkened room piled high with boxes. Relief flooded through me as I realized I'd escaped yet again without the police putting my face on the news, and that countless innocent lives hadn't been slaughtered in the blaze. That was too close. I need to stop attracting this kind of attention. Obfuscate would help so much... Wasn't Therese supposed to help teach me that? That's right, later tonight I'm supposed to meet with her. First things first, I need to get somewhere safe. Bill and I exited the out the back door into a small space, open only to the sky, enclosed by brick on three sides and a tall wooden fence with a padlocked gate on the fourth. The space was lit by a single floodlight over the door, and contained only trash cans, boxes, and a dumpster.
I started extricating my new cell phone from its packaging while Bill unwrapped his sandwich. It was a basic Nokia flip-phone, so to text I would have to press each number a few times. Ugh. These are annoying. It's almost impossible to text with these. When I was alive, I had a pretty nice phone – Blackberry is top of the line, with a full built in keyboard! Of course, everyone's raving about that brand new phone by Apple... what was it called? Something dumb and gimmicky. Oh, yeah, the iPhone. Like their music player, the ipod. Ah, whatever. I can get a nice phone later. As Bill started eating, I booted up my phone and entered the code on the box to activate my minutes. Bill watched me out of the corner of his eye as he ate, and something about the way he looked at me caused my ever-present paranoia to kick in. He heard that broadcast clearly. He knows about the reward. Kill him before he betrays you... I tried a more humane tactic – I spoke to Bill. "Bill, I appreciate everything you've done for me. I'll make sure you get even more money than you have already. So, please, don't take it the wrong way when I tell you that I'll find you and kill you if ever even think about turning me in."
Bill, who'd just lit a cigarette and took his first puff, began coughing. His coughs turned to laughter, which subsided. "Look, Louie, first rule of being homeless- avoid the cops at all costs, don't tell them anything. You thinkin' I'll sell you out for that reward money? Maybe go brown-nosing to old Jim?" Bill spit, derisively. "The cops don't give a shit about the homeless. We aren't human to them, they treat animals better. We aren't allowed to be anywhere. We're constantly searched and harassed. We can be arrested for anything or nothing. They let us die in the streets. Sure, I act nice and share bullshit street gossip with Jim and other cops to get them off my back. He's not my friend. And let's be honest – since I helped you, I'd be ratting on myself. If they even believed me – nobody believes anything the homeless say, we're all written off as crazy. The cops might just arrest me for being a nuisance."
I weighed his words. They all made sense, except, "You didn't sound all that scared of jail when you were talking about it earlier."
Bill shook his head, looking down. "It was different... before the pandemic."
I furrowed my brows, remembering the biological death sweeping through the city, wondering how it had affected Bill's life. Wasn't the homeless population one of the main vectors by which the plague had been spreading? That would be the place to look for a plaguebearer – which is something both Strauss and the Anarchs want me to do, making it one of the politically safer things for me to be doing at the moment. "What changed?" I asked, looking right at him with what compassion I could still summon.
"Well," Bill said with a sigh, meeting my gaze with a world of pain in his eyes, "things have been bad lately. I'm sure you know about how everyone's getting sick." I nodded, starting to feel real concern, now for all the people who were getting sick, dying, and I suddenly did care, and want to do something about it, perhaps to make up for the massacre I'd just caused. "Well, it's a lot worse for us homeless. They treat us like we're all sick, dehumanize us even more than before. They've also gotten real paranoid about the pandemic in jail – don't want an outbreak in crowded cell blocks. So they're testing everyone who comes into jail, and shipping anyone sick off to some FEMA quarantine camp. Only, rumor is, that since so many homeless come in sick, now they're just shipping all the homeless off to quarantine, to save money on tests. I don't know anything about the camp – no one's ever come back. I just know that it's way outside LA, and it's probably a shithole. I figure if you aren't sick when you get there, you'll be sick within a day. I've seen too many people die from this disease – I'm not trying to go there and add to the rising body count."
I nodded slowly, processing everything, my face done up in a mask of sympathy. That's deeply unfair – the homeless can go to jail for anything or nothing, and then they just all get shipped off somewhere they're guaranteed to get sick, maybe die. And no one cares – they're just bums, if they're dead then hey, they're off the streets! That's one way to solve the homeless problem... ugh. That's too Cold and Ugly for even me to stomach. "That's really rough. It's messed up, the way they're just throwing you all in the camp. It's like an automatic death sentence."
"Yeah," Bill replied, "and here I thought we got rid of all the death camps after the second world war." He turned to me and gave me a gap-toothed smile. "Thanks for giving a shit. Most don't. Hell, it seems like nobody does sometimes, like any day now the government might start gassing us like we're roaches. I dunno if you remember a few years back ,when the cops were rounding us all up? That was another time it felt like they were about to start gassing us all."
I nodded, vaguely recalling reading about that whole mess in the papers. "Yeah, there was a big scandal about it, the police were like... using you guys for sweatshop labor – and using the women for something far worse. It was a huge deal. The police chief had to resign and everything." I decided to dig for more info. "So, how bad is this disease among the homeless? Is it true you guys are getting sick far more than any other group, or is that just an unfounded rumor? How long have you all been getting sick? How are you dealing with it? Uh, I'm just curious, if you don't mind."
Bill tossed his burnt cigarette butt onto the asphalt, then replied, "We got sick before anyone else. No one noticed or cared then. It was only once the disease started spreading to respectable people – you know, actual human beings with rights – that anyone started to give a shit. Mostly we deal just by avoiding anyone too sick – and avoiding the southeast part of skid row."
This could be a lead..."Why avoid that part of town? It crowded with homeless or something?"
Bill shook his head, "Not anyone living there any more. That's where homeless people first started getting sick. Now, the streets and alleys are empty. But... and this is the weird part... even though it's empty, anyone homeless who does wander down there – maybe figuring there's lots of empty alleys to sleep in, and its safe since its empty – they all come back sick. And not just sick... they're usually sick and crazy, scared out of their minds, jumping at shadows, swearing there's some monster lurking in the darkness. And some – some don't come back at all. They just disappear, never seen or heard from again. Now look, if you don't mind, I don't want to talk about it any more." With that, Bill started chugging his beer.
I smiled, realizing I might have finally figured out where to go looking for the next Plaguebearer. I turned my attention back to the phone, which I'd finished setting up. Who should I call? I pulled out my hand-written list of numbers. First things first – I need to get out of here, get somewhere safe. The Last Round is right where the respectable part of downtown turns into Skid Row. They're closest, and I need to talk to Nines, anyway. I dialed Nines' number.
It rang – and went to voicemail. Damn. I really need to talk to him – and to get out of here. I called again. It rang four times before it was answered – he almost ignored me. "Who is this? How did you get this number?" Nines demanded, clearly irritated and paranoid.
"It's me, Lu!" I replied. "I had to change numbers. For a number of reasons I can't talk about now. We need to meet."
Silence from the other end for a bit, causing desperate panic to begin rising up inside me. Finally, Nines replied, "Yeah, we do. You were supposed to get in touch with us awhile ago – it's been dark for hours, now."
Was I? Shit, I was supposed to talk to them before talking to LaCroix. Oh god, my web of intrigue and double-dealing is starting to become more complicated than even I can keep track of. "Uh, look, you're right, and I can explain when I get there. And I'm not far from you, but... I'm in a little bit of a jam. I, uh, might have a few issues with the law right now, and there's a lot of cops around, and I kind of need you to send someone to come pick me up."
A chuckle, then, "Seems like we're always pulling your ass out of the fire, Lu. What exactly did you get yourself into, this time? Know what, doesn't matter. We'll talk when you get here. Where are you?"
After a brief consultation with Bill, I gave Nines the intersection the corner store was located at. More silence, then Nines told me, "Alright, you're in luck, Lu. Mazoline is heading out that way, she's got to deal with some business at a homeless shelter she runs near there. I'll have her grab you on her way back. Don't go anywhere and disappear on us, yeah?"
I realized that he was pretty eager to get a hold of me – that was either very good or very bad for me. Well, either way, it's what I've got to go face. I can't stay here. "Thanks, Nines. This is that last time I'll be calling you for a rescue, I swear."
That got a single chuckle. "We'll see. Mazoline will call you when she gets there. See you soon, Lu."
I hung up and let out a bunch of tension with a sigh. Okay. Rescue is incoming. I'm actually going to safely get away with this latest insanity. I decided to celebrate a little. I pulled out the fancy Turkish cigarettes I'd recovered from Boris' corpse and lit one, inhaling the spicy-sweet aroma, enjoying the familiar burn. As I smoked, I thought about who else I should contact while I had some time to kill. I should probably let Strauss know I'm alive and I lost my tail. Back to the balancing act between factions...
I dialed the number Strauss had given me. Strauss answered, inquiring, "To whom am I speaking?"
"It's Lucius," I answered. "I"m calling to let you know that I lost my tail – and maybe gained some domain."
"Indeed," Strauss replied evenly. "You also caused immense chaos and devastation, and came to the very edge of violating the Masquerade." Oh, right, I told him what I was planning on doing. He knows the Hotel was my handywork. "Are you safe?"Strauss asked.
"Yes, I'm safe," I told Strauss, glad to deliver some good news. "I managed to get away without being identified, and I'm off the streets, waiting to be picked up and taken to safety."
Strauss spoke with cautious hesitation in his voice. "What... precisely do you define as safety? And who is bringing you there?"
Ah... I guess I need to tell him where I'm headed to. He wanted me to go see that Anarchs, anyway. "I'm close to the Last Round, and I'm going there. Nines sent someone, a Toreador named Mazoline to get me."
"I'm familiar with her," Strauss informed me. "Lucius, I must ask – why did you see fit to light an entire hotel on fire? Is there any sort of reasonable justification for such recklessness?"
His rebuke was a harsh dose of cold water on my relief at escaping. "Uh... yeah, of course there was. I, uh, discovered that the entire Russian Mob was under the control of Jezebel!" I looked over at Bill, who I caught eyeing me askance for a moment, then scrupulously made a point to look and move away while chugging his beer, trying very hard not to be a part of my conversation. "She'd been with all of them, her girls were up there – they were dead men anyway, and I needed to make sure the situation was contained before the disease spread further."
Silence was my reply as Strauss considered my words. "Hm... an interesting development. Normally, the destruction of an entire hotel in the midst of the central Camarilla downtown domain would be unforgivable. However... this Pandemic is a most exceptional situation, a crisis justifying extraordinary measures. I have not yet informed the Prince of your involvement in this... devastation. No doubt he is currently scrambling to determine who committed this act of destruction in the neighborhood of his central domain. With what you have just told me, I will be able to explain the situation, calm his fears, and perhaps justify your actions. You were wise to contact me."
Relief filled me yet again. That's my whole unlife, barely managing to keep my ass covered on all sides... "Thanks, Strauss. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"The Tremere clan pyramid offers many benefits to its younger members, including guidance and protection." Yeah... but at a cost. "A question, neonate. Do you still intend to claim The Confession as your domain?"
Yeah... that was kind of the whole point of the bloodbath. "Yes, absolutely."
"Excellent. Doing so will establish you as a peer among the worthies of this city. Now, this will require you to decide which faction you are declaring for. I presume it will be for the Camarilla?"
Uh... shit... I do have to make this decision. But I shouldn't let Strauss know there's any indecision on my part. "Y- yeah, of course."
A moment of silence – did he detect my hesitation? "Of course. However, it is best that you not burn your bridges with the Anarchs. Indeed... if you were to be accepted within the ranks of the Barons, allowed to attend and vote upon their councils, it could be most advantageous."
Interesting...advantageous in what way to your schemes, Strauss? But this could work out very well for me. Gotta tread carefully... I nervously asked, "Okay, so... what should I tell the Anarchs? You and I made a plan for what I was going to tell them when we last met at the Chantry. Should we change that?" I can barely remember the details of the scheme of Strauss' I agreed to.
After another interminable silence, Strauss replied. "Yes, we will be changing the plan. Lucius... you may tell the Anarchs everything. Absolutely everything that went on at the Primogen meeting – including the fact that you have been chosen as the Camarilla's agent to recover the Sarcophagus."
That stunned me for a moment. "Uh... I mean, won't LaCroix be upset about that? He was pretty clear that I was supposed to keep this whole business quiet."
Another pause, then, in a reproving tone, Strauss told me, "Lucius, you cannot truly believe LaCroix would still trust you with such a sensitive task after the recklessness you just displayed."
No, I guess I didn't think of that angle. Well, good. Fuck that Sarcophagus. I didn't want to have anything to do with it, anyway. Still, I was a little indignant. "I mean, it's not like I planned for things to turn out the way they did, I just... had to get creative at several points."
"Which is another way of saying you failed to adequately plan ahead, and were thus forced to improvise. Essentially, you are saying that disaster was averted largely through luck."
Well damn. Strauss can be brutal when he wants to be. "Alright, point made. I'll try to plan better in the future. Not, that I'm planning on doing anything that violent or loud anytime soon – I'm going to be keeping my head down for a bit. So you know what? It's fine, LaCroix can find someone else to handle this work. I'm a little too hot right now, anyway. And I can just tell Nines about the original plan, since that info will be out of date by the time he hears it. Clever... devious, even."
Strauss replied, his voice sounding distant, like he was lost in thought. "Yes... also, I am, at this point, fairly certain that the Nosferatu will allow the knowledge of what took place in our meeting to leak to Nines and his Anarchs gang. Best you be fully transparent if you want to leave the Last Round intact."
Oh, shit... man, having the Nosferatu mad at you sucks! Those guys can just start leaking secrets to anyone, be listening any time... hello again, paranoia! "So, what, should I tell Nines that I'm turning the job down?"
Strauss replied, amused yet chiding. "Is that the best move you can think of to make with this new piece you hold? I cannot tell you how to play the Jyhad, Lucius. However, if I may make some suggestions..."
I mean, what I going to do, argue? I'm clearly in over my head. "Yeah, please, by all means."
"I suggest you tell the Anarchs you intend to betray the Camarilla, to 'pull the rug' out from our feet, if you will. Of course you must tell them you will refuse to act as our agent. Fully share every lurid detail of our conclave. Indeed, offer to share the full account with all of the Anarch Barons at the next meeting, one night hence. It will earn their trust, and encourage them to allow you to come to the secret meeting. Once there, perhaps they can even be persuaded to accept you as one of their Barons. For the only requirement to be a Baron is that one be of sufficient skill and means to claim and hold domain – and you now have domain to claim. That is the surest path to power and recognition, Lucius, if that is what you seek."
I slowly processed everything, trying to grasp the strategic dimensions of his play. "Yes, power and recognition is what I want. It's what can keep me alive, finally allow my life to become stable." And it gives me the option of actually joining the Anarchs if I want to.
"Excellent. Of course, you wouldn't even consider actually betraying the Camarilla and joining the Anarchs, now would you, Lucius?" he slyly asked.
Damn... I must have sounded too eager. "Of course not, Strauss. They can't offer me the sort of knowledge and protection you can, as you pointed out."
"Of course. Do try to remember that should you be tempted to turn the appearance of betrayal into something more... corporeal. Not that such a betrayal would ruin my plans. It would simply require... significant readjustment." Hm... is he bluffing? Could he really take me joining the Anarchs in stride? "In any case... it would be best if you resolved the entire plaguebearer business before the Baron's meeting – it will make the assembled Barons far more inclined to vote to admit you to their ranks. Not to mention the simple fact that it is vital this matter be tackled immediately – the CDC are becoming a major threat to the Masquerade. Which means it is vital you immediately locate another Plaguebearer once you are safely in the company of the Anarchs."
"Yeah," I agreed, looking over to Bill, who was most of the way through his beer. "I may have a lead on that, actually. Once the heat dies down and I explain myself to the Anarchs, I'll get right on that."
"Excellent. Remember, I need you to take a sample of this plaguebearer's blood. With it and Jezebel's blood, I will be able to locate the ultimate source of the plague, allowing you to destroy it. Lucius, by doing this, you will be solving a major problem for the Kindred of this city. It will earn you respect from all – myself included. It will ensure acceptance in both Anarch and Camarilla circles. It is your fastest path upwards."
He has a point. This is the best way forward – and this pandemic needs to be stopped now, before who knows how many die. Not to mention, there's something ominous and awful about this plague, and the cultlike attitude of Jezebel. There are darker forces at work there, I think... "Well then, I'll get right to it, Strauss."
"Excellent, Neonate. One final thing-" Suddenly, there was a loud click, followed by a deep pulsing tone, which then became steady and high-pitched, before cutting off.
"What the hell was that?" I demanded, bewildered.
A pause, and then a very quiet answer. "That, neonate, is a feature I have installed in my telephone system to detect if our conversation is being listened upon. We are now being tapped."
It took a bit for that to really sink in, for my paranoia to really start kicking into high gear. "I mean... it can't be, I just got this phone. Unless... it's because of your line?"
With a dismissive clicking of his tongue, Strauss assured me that, "It is most certainly not because of this line – the number was reserved only for this call, has never been used before, and will never work again."
Wow... I thought I was paranoid. Maybe I need to be more paranoid. Shit, how could they have me tapped? And who? "I mean, I've only called one number before yours."
"Well then, it is logical to deduce that it is the number you dialed before mine that has led to your phone being tapped. It is also logical to deduce that that conversation was tapped. I suggest you obtain another number if possible – and if not, avoid conversations which discuss sensitive topics. However, as for our call, it is no longer private, and thus no longer worth having. Good evening."
With that, Strauss hung up.
I stood there for a minute, smoking and thinking, brooding. That's just great. So my whole conversation with Nines was tapped, too? I mean, I didn't really say much except that I was in trouble and needed to be picked up. It was the call with Strauss that contained all the juicy plotting – and actually, his plans work out perfectly for me. The real question is, who tapped my phone? Who tapped Nines' phone – unless it was Nines and the Anarchs who tapped me. It could be LaCroix...
"Or," Serena spoke derisively into my mind, "It could be the Nosferatu – you know, the clan that's famous for spying, listening in on conversations, and being incredible with technology. You know, the clan who currently has a grudge against you. Just a thought."
Right. I was getting to that. Leaving the best option for the end. I just have to examine all the possibilities, you taught me that.
"Yes... of course. I also taught you how to think on your feet. You used to be such a tongue-tied anxious mess. How you've grown. Now, your current phone isn't useless – just don't call any Kindred or discuss anything major." With those words, I felt her presence recede from my mind.
It's always strange, the way she pops in and out. Wish I understood more about how all that works. Ah well. So, Serena said the phone isn't completely useless... Who else do I want to call? I looked down at my list of contacts. Two names stood out. The names of women who'd tasted my blood.
Heather... and Venus.
I'd promised both of them I'd call. Venus, after the job was done, Heather... I just said later. I'm connected to both of them now. I haven't even really stopped and thought about that whole situation. They're both going to be bound to me – they're both going to be mine. Having Venus drink my blood was a calculated act for power and domain, just as she's a calculating and ruthless woman. Feeding my blood to Heather... it was an act of pure mercy and humanity, and she seems like a really innocent girl. Ah, how far I've fallen since my Embrace. Well, it's been a rough unlife, an all-out war for survival at times. Nonetheless, I'm glad there's some piece of that kind, naive old me still... alive. I want to talk to both of them. Plus, I can warn them to stay inside tonight. Yeah... I should check on Venus first. Make sure she's okay after everything that happened.
I tossed my cig and dialed her number. Venus answered on the fourth ring, an uncharacteristic tremor in her voice. "Hello? Who is this?"
"It's me, Venus. It's Lucius."
I heard Venus gasp, then exclaim, "Holy shit, Lucius, is it really you? How in the fuck are you still alive?"
I laughed. "So, I see you've been watching the news."
Venus sputtered, incredulous. "Watching – watching the – the news? No, I was not watching the fucking news. The Empire Arms Hotel burned the fuck down about two blocks away from my fucking club, so I got front row seat to that fucking show!"
She was screaming, breathing hard. Yeah, I guess this all might be a little unsettling for her. "Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with that. I didn't plan for things to go that way, but stuff just kind of got... out of hand Please, just breathe slowly. You're okay, right?"
Venus did take a couple of deep breaths, regaining her usual demeanor of confidence. "Yes. Yes, of course. I'm fine. I'm not stupid – I watched from a block away. The cops had the area cordoned off, anyway – and I wasn't one of those idiots shoving to get right up front."
I was filled with guilt, as I began to think about innocent bystanders that might have gotten hurt. I thought just because they evacuated the building, that this was all okay somehow. Like it wasn't a massacre if only the mobsters were killed, like they aren't people. And it wasn't just the mobsters – the whores... the cops I killed... the people in the helicopter... and the firemen and emergency rescue people the helicopter and hotel fell on... and any nearby bystanders... Oh God, how many people did I kill tonight? Pulling myself from my reverie with a nearly inaudible gasp of horror, I asked, "Uh... did you see anyone in the front get hurt?"
Venus paused for a bit. "Hm... feeling a bit of guilt, are we?"
I almost denied it, but it was true. And our relationship had begun with me confessing my sins... "Yeah, definitely. I heard they evacuated everyone out of the hotel – no innocents were hurt. I didn't think about that helicopter falling down – that wasn't part of the plan."
I heard Venus sigh, sounding relieved. "Well. Good, I'm glad that bothers you – if it didn't, I was going to have to rethink our little partnership. I'm a bad girl, and I like bad guys – but I'm not a psycho, and I stay the fuck away from psychos. Still... you seem much more like the level-headed type, a cold-blooded killer... maybe with a heart of gold buried deep inside there?"
I chuckled, amused. She's not entirely off the mark... but while Venus loves my darker, cold-blooded killer side, it's Heather who is the product of what's left of my heart. I simply replied, "You've got me all figured out. So... how many were hurt? Were killed?"
"No one in the crowd was hurt at all," Venus informed me, relief flooding through me, some piece of my humanity remaining intact because of it. "The firemen and EMTs, though... I mean, flaming pieces of hotel and helicopter rained down on them. I think most of them were in their vehicles, but... Still, it's not like there weren't a bunch of other EMTs and ambulances right fucking there. They were probably fine. I'm not sure, though. I didn't stick around after the copter went down. Nobody did – it was a panic, a fucking stampede. I felt real smart, being away from the crowd at the front. I got out of there and back to The Confession, running as fast as I could – in heels! Hell – I don't know how, but I actually managed to sprint in heels! I don't know if it was like, the adrenaline, or the high from the coke, and whatever the hell you did to it, or maybe all of it together, but... I had the agility, the strength, the fucking grace to sprint back to the Confession before everyone, in three-inch sexy as fuck stiletto heels!"
I thought that one over. My blood... she used it for the first time, instinctively. Good. She's a natural. I told her, "Not a lot of women could pull that off. The drugs, the whatever the hell I did to the coke, definitely helped – but still, what you did takes skill. I'm impressed. So, what did you do when you got back to the club?"
"I ran into my office, grabbed all my coke, my whole personal stash. Then, I bolted to the bathroom. I whipped out my hand mirror, cut out some of the biggest lines you've ever seen, and snorted something like... a gram, right to my face. I flush everything else, cleaned my mirror and my face. I redid my makeup. I looked perfect. I felt like a fucking goddess. I walk out, buzzing, floating, exquisitely confident - right when the cops came into the club."
I was conflicted – her drug use annoyed me, as did the way it put her at risk... but I couldn't help but be impressed with how well she'd handled it. Her tale had me on the edge of my seat. "Holy shit. Good thing you ran back as fast as you did – that came right down to the wire. So what did the cops do when they came into our club?"
"Our club. That's going to take some getting used to," Venus muttered. "When they came into our club," she said, drawing out the response, "The cops told everyone to stay put. They started searching everywhere and everyone. I think the female officer who patted me down had a little too much fun with it – but I didn't mind, and I told her as much. The cops didn't even care about the drugs they did find – it was all small, personal stashes anyway. I mean, the cops took whatever they found and stared down whoever they found it on. Probably would have done more if they'd found my stash – but there was nothing left to find. They were really looking for guns – anyone they found with any guns were taken aside and questioned. Anyway, after my sexy lesbian frisking, I took a couple of the boys around the place, gave them the tour. They needed to search the whole club, and needed me to open the doors. I was cool, calm, collected... I was also flying higher than the birds. I handled myself like a fucking badass – smooth as silk the whole time. I showed the boys in blue around and flirted the whole time. Only one hiccup – your room. The cops thought your little goth demon summoning thing was... weird. That was, until I told them it was for an underground BDSM porn shoot – and that I'm the star. Even gave one of the cops my number, in case he wanted to be in it. Uh, I hope that's okay with you – you aren't possessive like that, are you?"
I laughed. I can't help but be impressed with her, Yes, she's ridiculously wild and hedonistic – in fact, I'm pretty sure she's wired right now. Still, somehow she makes it all work. She handles her business well, and I don't mind her flirting her way out of that mess at all. "I can be possessive, but not like that. We're both free to flirt and date around, Venus." I definitely heard a sigh of relief from her end. "Besides, it could be useful, you knowing a cop, being able to get inside info – and it got them off your case, away from our club. Good work, Venus."
I could hear her practically purring with pleasure at my praise and my attitude. "You're not the only smooth operator. Hell, I seem to run my shit smoother than you do yours. Still, I'll admit, as out of control as your work got... you definitely got the job done. Oh, hell, I'll just come out and say it – you did better than I dreamed possible. I thought maybe just Boris or his bodyguard would be offed and you'd like, escape out the window or some shit. Realistically, I figured you'd get gunned down and maybe take most of the mob with you. Yeah, I'll be honest, I didn't give you high odds of surviving." If I was mortal, my odds would have been zero. "But instead you...You survived. And you burned down the fucking hotel. The whole mob is gone now. There's nobody left to avenge Boris – if there are any Russians out there, they'll be running, with no clue who did this. I'm finally free of them, completely and absolutely free..."
Venus went quiet, basking in her newfound freedom. Enjoy it while it lasts... you're about to be tied down again, and in many ways you already are. I bet you're already getting cravings for more of my blood... Still, no need to spoil her happiness. May as well let her feel free for the moment. "Not to mention, all Boris' records went up in flames – that's how the fire started originally, me lighting up his computer and files. Now there's nothing connecting our club to his criminal empire – that entire empire, and all its records, just went up in smoke."
"Mmm... didn't even think of that. See, this is why we work so perfectly together – you handle the little details like that. You've done very well, Lucius... very well, indeed. Are you sure you can't come see me tonight?"
I had to disappoint her. "Unfortunately, yeah, I'm sure. I've gotta lay low."
Venus sighed, but said, "Yes, that's probably for the best. In fact, stay far away from me tonight."
I laughed, "Don't worry. I promise you no one's following me. Still, though, Venus? I need you to stay inside your apartment until morning."
A pause, then, "Do I need to be worried about someone coming after me?" she asked, genuine worry in her voice.
"No, nothing like that." I replied, trying hard to sound nonchalant so she wouldn't worry. "You're fine, you just... You need to get some rest. You've had a long, stressful night. I bet you've been staying up, worried about me, about the cops..."
She was hesitant, her confident facade slipping – or maybe her high was wearing off. "Y- yeah. I might have blown through the rest of my personal stash at home, trying to be ready for anything, waiting for shit to go down any minute, for my door to get kicked in..." Her voice was on edge, on the verge of hysterics, confirming my theory.
"Look... I promise you, you're going to be okay," I reassured her, putting all the sincerity ino my voice I could, trying even harder to mean it. "The cops aren't coming. No one is. So relax. Lock the deadbolt if it makes you feel better, then get some sleep. You really sound like you need to rest – take a sleeping pill or something to wind you down. Knock yourself out until some time tomorrow."
Silence for a bit, then, "Okay... fine. I'm out of coke, anyway, so there goes my party fuel. Might spark a joint and pop a seraquil. May as well crash – it has been a rough night. But... I do have some questions I need you to answer for me. Some things that... don't quite add up. When will I see you, next?"
Hm... when will I see her next? "Tomorrow night, some time. Wait for me to call you, okay?"
A sigh, then, "Alright. I'll lay low until then. You try to do the same, yeah? Stay safe for me?"
I was touched. She's worried about me... cares about me. That's... a pleasant feeling. Almost like I'm still human, still have regular friends, relationships... "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not doing anything else risky or dangerous tonight," I lied. "Thanks for caring. And since I care about you, too – promise me you'll get some sleep now, alright?"
"Alright, fine, dad," Venus replied sarcastically.
I said, "We'll talk tomorrow night. Goodnight, Venus." I hung up.
Well... that's good. Good that I know she's safe, good that she knows I'm safe... Now, to check in on Heather, my charity case, the only proof of that golden heart Venus claims I have. I dialed her number.
Heather answered immediately, uncertainty in her voice. "Hello? Is that you, Lucius?"
"Yep. I take it you missed me?"
Relief filled her voice. "Oh god, I can't even tell you how glad I am you called. Uh, hold on." Huh? What's going on? I heard Heather's voice again, this time more distant, echoing. "Okay, uh, you're on speakerphone. Your oh-so-friendly neighbors are here, and they want to make sure it's really you."
My neighbors? Who...? My question was answered a moment later. "L-l-l-Lucius, is th-th-that really you?"
Ah, Julius, the thin-blood. That's right, they just moved in across the hall from me. "Yeah, it's me. Julius, what are you doing in my place?"
"It is not only him," Rosa replied. "We were all worried by this strange woman who was in your room. You did ask us to keep an eye on your home, after all."
Yeah, I did... and I guess I never really told them she was showing up. Heather replied, indignant but still afraid. "Well, it's like I told both of you – he told me to come here, after I saw him downtown." Her attention turned to me, and her voice turned nervous, eager to please. "Lucius, I cleaned the place up, like you asked. I had to spend some money on cleaning supplies from Tripp's, and it was really hard and gross work, but I don't mind. I actually managed to make this place look like a real home, somewhere you'd actually want to live!" If she actually pulled that off with my cheap, shitty Haven, I'll be impressed. "But right as I finished, all of a sudden there was a loud pounding on the door – then they were screaming, demanding to know who I was, what I was doing there... I just about had a heart attack, Lucius!"
Yeah, I imagine. Poor girl must have been terrified out of her mind. Julius said, "W-w-we just n-n-needed to kn-kn-know who you w-w-were!"
"I told you – and when I told you, you didn't believe me!" Heather replied, indignant and hurt. "You told me to call him – but Lucius, you told me not to call you, right?"
I sighed, starting to get a bit tired of the drama. "That's right, I did – it would have caused problems for me for awhile there – and of course, wouldn't have done anything once I destroyed my old phone." Slowly, paranoia crept into my thoughts – I had a quite serious concern "Hey, uh, you guys didn't kick my door open, did you?"
"Never!" Rosa responded, indignantly. "We would never damage your home like that!"
"I p-p-picked the l-l-lock," Julius added. "And w-w-we got C-Copper watching the door. I l-l-l-learned a thing or t-two being a b-b-bounty hunter."
I nodded slowly, smiling. I'm not so much worried about my security deposit as I am about Nosferatu sneaking in while my door's open. What I said was, "Well, that's fine then. In fact, good work. After all, I did tell you to keep an eye on my home. Plus, I never did tell you about Heather. Uh... Rosa, Julius, Copper, this is Heather. Heather, meet Rosa, Julius, and Copper, my friends and neighbors."
Silence stretched on after my introductions. Yeah, I bet that's all a little awkward. Heather spoke up. "Um, nice to meet both of you – I mean, we met, but you never gave your names, so... hi."
I could feel her wilting under the awkwardness of the situation. Hey, at least she tried. Still, best to interject. Besides, I need to know how much Heather knows now. "Great. Glad you're getting along so well. Um... So how much did you guys tell Heather about... well... you know..." I explained the basics of the Masquerade to them, right?
Apparently I did. "N-n-nothin'" Julius replied, haltingly. "Y-y-you t-t-told us n-n-not to t-t-tell anyone th-th-th-that w-w-w-"
"You told us not to share our secret with anyone that doesn't already know," Rosa finished. "We told her nothing once it was clear that this young girl has no idea what's going on."
Well. Good. I intend to be the one to explain everything to her. I'm the one who brought her into this life... So, how to explain about the Nosferatu without explaining outright? "Okay. Well, look, this is definitely going to sound strange. I need you all to be on the lookout from some... people... who might be trying to prowl around my home. They aren't dangerous," I lied, trying to avoid panic, "but they definitely want to try and spy on me, gather any secrets they can."
"Well," Heather stepped in, finally speaking up, "they'll be really disappointed if they're looking for secrets. I tore this place apart, and I can't find any trace of any of those strange notes I found here earlier. It's a shame, because they were really, really interesting. Wish I'd taken some pictures, or some notes or something..."
Hm... I wonder how much she was able to remember... and how much she could understand.? Ugh, back to the task at hand – warning her about the Nosferatu. "Yeah, I got rid of all that after I thought these very people had ransacked my place. Anyway, all the juicy stuff is gone;" I told the girl, the thin-bloods... and whoever might be listening in. "However, I'd still rather not have them creeping around. Thing is... they're really good at sneaking around. To the point of almost being invisible. So, if you hear a weird noise or a knock at the door but then don't see anyone through the peephole – leave the door locked. Uh... try and quickly squeeze through the doorway and close the door right behind you. Oh, and don't leave the windows open. That should do it."
Silence, then Rosa replied, "I understand. I have... seen these sorts of people before. I will be vigilant."
Alright. Now I have four pairs of eyes watching for Nosferatu snoops and spies. And the Nosferatu know it, because they tapped my line. Well, hopefully this conversation deters them from even trying to spy on me. Now... I want to speak to Heather privately. I want to figure out what she's figured out. I don't care if that's recorded - it's innocent enough. In fact, it proves I've been keeping up the Masquerade, keeping her in the dark. But yeah, time to send the neighbors back home. I said, "Good. Now, if you three could be vigilant from across the hall, I'd like to speak with Heather alone."
Silence as they all processed my words – I'd been blunt, but I had to talk to Heather alone, and I didn't know how much more time I had – either in minutes paid for, or before being kicked out of this dingy alley. Finally, a reply, "Y-y-yeah, n-n-not a p-problem, Lu." Julius said.
Low rustling and walking, the sound of a door closing, and then I was alone with Heather. "Oh my god, thank you so much for dealing with them. God, they were so weird. And like, pale, too – even Rosa, who I think is from Mexico. And the way they stared at me – like they wanted to eat me!" Oh, you have no idea, Heather. "Are they really friends of yours?"
Are they? "Sort of. More charity cases than anything else – but we do go way back, and they are pretty loyal to me, as you can see. I could do worse for a next door neighbor."
I heard confusion in Heather's voice, turning to consternation. "I guess not, but... there's something more to what's going on than what you're saying – than they're saying. You asked them, if they'd told me... what did you say again? Rosa said she didn't share your secret..."
I wonder if she could actually puzzle it out? Is she intelligent enough? Does she have enough skill with problem solving and investigation? I pushed her to go deeper, asking, "So, Heather. You have any theories about what's going on? About this secret?"
"I... okay, so I've been trying to piece everything together. I'm actually a huge mystery novel nerd, so this is really frustrating for me, because I usually can figure out who's the killer like a third of the way into the book. Now, though... the only thing I can come up with is that you're all in some kind of cult." There was a lot of uncertainty in her voice. "But that doesn't explain how you healed me – unless you guys actually have hidden powers of some kind? But that's just crazy – there's always some real explanation for that supernatural stuff."
Hm. Interesting. She has an investigative mind. She just keeps hitting a wall of what she is willing to believe is real. I think I'll test her mystery-solving skills – and her ability to think outside the box. "So, I won't ruin the mystery for you. No spoilers." I heard her giggle. "What I want you to do with your time, until I get back, is try to solve this mystery. Write down everything you've seen or heard so far that seems off, or like it could be a clue. Try to put together the pieces of the puzzle. You have all the clues you need to solve the mystery, I promise."
"Oooh..." Heather cooed into the phone. "That actually sounds really fun. You swear I have all the clues I need?"
I had no idea if she actually did or not, but I figured the secret of Kindred will always seem obvious in hindsight, so I told her, "I swear you do."
Silence from Heather's end, then, "I wish I had your old notebook. I wish I'd copied everything in it down. I feel like all the answers were in there."
Yeah, well, I hid that thoroughly, and I'm very glad right now that I did. I told Heather, "Try to remember – everything, anything you can, even if you only vaguely think you remember – and write it all down. Those are all clues – and big ones, too." Then paranoia kicked in, and I added, "Oh, but don't leave your clue notebook open where it could be seen from a window – anyone could be lurking outside."
Silence, and then in a stunned voice, Heather replied, "My god, you're really paranoid, aren't you? Is that why all but one of the windows is boarded up?"
Not exactly, though that is an added anti-spying bonus. "Figure out why they're boarded up. There's another clue for you. Think on that until I get back."
"Okay. But, wait. When will you be back?"
I honestly have no idea... "Um, I've got a lot on my plate right now. No time soon. But, uh, before the night's over, for sure. Oh, wait, I have to meet... someone an hour before sundown. So... I'll try to be back sooner rather than later, but don't expect me any time soon. Also, don't call me. If my ringtone goes off at the wrong time, I could be in trouble."
"I didn't call even when your weird neighbors were over here, demanding to know who I was and how I knew you, so... Obviously I can follow instructions. Just saying."
Ooh, a little sarcastic streak, eh? She made me chuckle, though. "Fair enough. I like that- keep it up. Stay inside, keep an eye out for anything or anyone that might be skulking around, and try to solve this mystery. I'll see you later tonight."
"Okay. Thank you so much – for calling, for letting me be a part of... whatever this is. Thanks for saving my life! I won't disappoint you – I'll have this solved by the time you get back."
I like that eagerness, that gratitude. It's the basis of a real connection between us. "I think you will. I think you just might be clever enough. Goodbye, Heather." With that, I hung up.
I put my phone away and looked around. Bill had finished his beer and was walking over to me, stumbling slightly, slurring his words. "Hey, look, I just want you to know – I didn't hear nothing. I won't remember anything anyway. Because, see, you're gonna give me more money, and I'm gonna use it to go get plastered. Sound good?"
I agreed. "Yeah. Here you go, Bill. Your discretion is appreciated," I told him as I handed over sixty dollars.
Bill nodded, smiling widely as I handed over the cash. "Yessir, I won't remember a goddamn thing, I promise you that! Now, c'mon – we shouldn't be back here much longer, or it'll piss Dennis off. He calls the cops when he's pissed."
Nodding in agreement, not wanting any chance of any legal attention, I followed Bill back into the store. Dennis scowled at us as we walked past. "Sure as shit took long enough," he grumbled.
I put on a begrudgingly grateful smile. "I had some very important calls to make. Thank you so much for letting us use your... dumpster alley."
Dennis rolled his eyes, then told me to, "Get out." To Bill, he said, "See you 'round, Bill."
Bill and I stepped out into the street, and I walked away from the store door, towards the corner of the intersection where my ride was coming. I lit another nice cigarette, offered Bill one, and we stood there and smoked in silence.
About a minute later, a pitch-black, sleek motorcycle pulled up. It looked to be a Japanese model – light, fast, high-pitched motor, not like one of the heavy American bikes I saw around the Last Round. The driver kicked the kickstand and dismounted in one smooth motion. The driver wore leather pants, a zipped up leather jacket, and a biker helmet. Then, Mazoline took off her helmet, allowing her brown curls to spill out, revealing her elfin nose, her freckled face. She looked over both of us – then did a double take upon seeing Bill, who was staring open-mouthed at her. "What the... what the hell are you doing here, Mazoline?" Bill sputtered.
I looked over to her. "You know this guy?"
She was looking at Bill with concern and ignored our questions. "Bill, you can't be out right now – the police are arresting anyone for no reason. Why aren't you at my shelter?"
Ah. That's how they know each other. Bill shrugged. "I tried to go there. Said they were full, so I moved on."
I could see rage build on Mazoline's face. "Oh, no. No, no, no," she muttered as she pulled out her phone. "We're gonna take care of this right now," she said as she dialed. She told someone on the other end, "Hi, yeah, it's Mazoline again. Yeah, you know how I told you to always make sure there was room for old Bill? Oh, you haven't seen him? That's funny, because he's right here in front of me, and he tells me he was turned away. No, no, don't lie to me – I don't want to hear excuses. Just make sure there's a bed for him when he shows up, he's on his way now. Bye." She hung up, and turned to Bill. "Bill. Please, go right to the shelter. I promise there'll be somewhere safe for you to sleep tonight. Ok?"
"Alright," Bill said, nodding. "But-"
Mazoline cut him off. "I don't have time, Bill. Please, just go." Go Bill did, without another word. As he walked away, she got back on the bike, then turned to me, asking, "You going to get on, or just stand there?"
"Oh, uh, right." Coming to, I sat down on the bike behind her. "Uh, I've got all these bags."
"Yeah, I can see you're really rocking the homeless look. Just put them in one of the saddlebags I've got – and hold on to the handles, not me, when we ride."
I did as she asked, telling her, "Hey whatever you want – I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
She laughed as she put on her helmet. "It's not because I'm a prude or something. It's because we're about to be going very, very fast, and I don't want either of us flying off the bike."
I nervously gripped two handles on the side of the bike, situated for the back passenger. "Uh... ok, but you're not going to go unsafely fast, right?" I'd only been on a motorcycle a few times in my life – they're notoriously dangerous, and it seemed like a stupid, reckless risk to me.
Mazoline laughed again and started the bike. "Oh, I'll be going at speeds that would be impossible to handle... for a mortal. Fortunately, Celerity lets me slow down time and react to dangers that are coming at a few hundred miles per hour. Between that and Auspex letting me see what's coming from five blocks away, you'll live. Just hold on tight."
Hold on tight I did, as Mazoline zipped off into the night.