Chapter 44 – Down in a Hole
We walked out of the Last Round, and crossed the street into desolation.
We walked past a crumbling brick warehouse with iron bars over broken windows that was directly across the street. Recalling the earlier conversation in the bar, I asked Mazoline, "So is that really Damsel's domain?"
Mazoline rolled her amber eyes, a smirk appearing on her smooth pink lips that highlighted her high, patrician cheeks. "Yes, she is the proud owner of this run-down, derelict warehouse," Mazoline declared in a voice positively dripping with sarcasm. "She claims exclusive feeding rights over the poor bums that sleep in the alleys around it," she said as we walked into the alley behind it. "Honestly, if there wasn't a pandemic, I'd feed from one just on general principle," she commented as we passed by a bum huddled in a corner. "But, since there's no way to test the blood to see if it's clean..."
She gave me an assessing look, eyeing me up and down, and I couldn't help but want to offer her a solution. I do know how to test the blood. It's the most basic blood magic power.
"Absolutely not! It's one thing to trade the secrets of Necromancy – but to give out any knowledge you've gained from our clan is to deny yourself any chance of joining the clan, to mark yourself and her for death!"
Okay, first of all, there's a serious public health issue here – the Kindred of LA, of the world, need a way to test their blood before drinking it. Second of all – Strauss will try to kill me if I choose the Anarchs, so if I'm going to go that direction, I may as well go all in. The truth was, though, that it was Mazoline's smile, the flirtatious way she was looking me over that made me want to spill the secret. Still... I've told her so much already... I don't want to seem too easy... So I coyly said, "I might know a way...It's really basic blood magic, but..."
"But what?" she said as she turned to me, hands on hips, a bit of a scowl on her face crushing my feelings. "You're still going to play hard to get? Not ready to openly trust us? I get that you want to keep some secrets and powers to yourself – but we need this right now. People are dying, Kindred are terrified... and you could help stop all of that. Even after you destroy the plaguebearers, this disease will still be around. We aren't going to stop this by defeating some evil Kindred – we're going to stop it with good sanitary practices. So, do you want to save the Kindred and people of this city, or are you going to selfishly keep this knowledge to yourself?"
Well, geeze, when you put it like that... She'd laid the Presence on thick, and it worked. With a sigh, I told her, "Fine, fine. I was thinking the same thing – it's a public health issue, it's just logical. Just... I've given up a lot, so please, just try and teach me a thing or two, okay?"
She gave me a radiant smile, like a glowing elven beauty – though in her skintight black leather, she was clearly a dark elf, but that only made her rare approval all the more electrifying. "Not a problem, Lucius. Hell, I already owe you for connecting me to my old ghoul and the spirit world. I wouldn't ask for more if it wasn't so important – for our community, for the Masquerade, for humanity! Seriously, you want some private tutoring in any of my disciplines – Presence, Celerity, Auspex – just say the word."
Oooh... that's actually a really nice offer. Plus, I'd probably enjoy some private tutoring from her...
"Oh my god, Lucius. I know you're desperate to find someone to replace me as your domineering schoolteacher, but really, she isn't that type and probably isn't that into you. Try looking at her aura instead of her tits or her smile. Or better yet, learn more Auspex and read her thoughts – I promise you they aren't what you think they are. Still... the offer to teach you her clan Disciplines is nothing to scoff at. Plus, you do both have points about the public health aspect of this whole situation. I suppose Strauss could be convinced of the necessity. Besides, basic blood tasting is the worst-kept secret of blood magic."
I stopped listening to the woman in my head and responded to the woman in front of me. "Uh, thank you. It means a lot. Honestly, you impressed the hell out of me with that performance on the bike. I could really use Celerity – you're right, it's better than any power I have."
She laughed melodiously, raising her head, delight spilling out in waves. "Oh course," she said, getting her laughter under control. "I should have known. Unfortunately," she told me, her eyes going wide in sympathy, "Celerity is almost impossible to learn if you aren't of the right clan."
Oh... disappointing. And misleading. "Then why'd you offer to teach me if it's impossible?"
"I said almost impossible," she replied over her shoulder as she turned around and sauntered off. I followed quickly on her heels. "I could teach you, but realistically you won't get the basics for a couple years – and that's if you prove to be a natural at it. I don't suppose you were at all athletic or graceful in life?"
It was my turn to laugh uproariously, then reply, "Far from it. Awkward nerd would have been an accurate description. So I guess that means my dreams of superhuman speed are dashed."
She tossed a sympathetic pout over her shoulder as we moved deeper into the alleys. "Unfortunately, yes, at least for a few years. So sorry – both for your troubles now, and what I'm sure was an awful adolescence. Feel free to tell me all about it... later." Turning forward, she stepped up the pace.
I moved to step up next to her. "Your sympathy is overwhelming, but honestly, after all I've been through, I really need the services of a professional therapist. Not that I could openly talk about what I've been through with a human shrink..."
"Mm, yes, unfortunate that those most in need of therapy are unable to seek it due to the Masquerade. Well, there are Kindred psychotherapists, but they tend to all be Malkavian, which... well, let's just say their advice is less than reliable. Fortunately for you, I'm a licensed psychiatrist – my practice has been open longer than you've been alive, I believe. I'm actually the only well-adjusted therapist for Kindred in LA."
I looked over at her, surprised and impressed. "Really? That's... huh, I might actually need your services. I've had a pretty rough unlife."
"Right. Because that's not just a scam to get your secrets out of you."
I thought about that, and decided to diplomatically ask, "Do you have a lot of Kindred clients? I can't imagine there are all that many willing to trust you with their inner hopes and fears."
She slowly shook her head, a genuine sadness in her eyes. "No. It's a sad state of affairs, being so paranoid that one can't even seek therapy. That's a sort of complex in itself, isn't it? But truly, I've done my best to stay out of the politics in this city, focusing on esoteric investigation, my psychological practice, and humanitarian work. I was hoping that by being a neutral party, I could attract more clients and try to heal the severe suffering and paranoia in this city. But, as you've seen from the Kindred in LA, I haven't exactly succeeded in that goal."
I chuckled. "No, you haven't. You really need to to give the Kindred of the Sabbat a session or two."
She snorted derisively. "I don't waste my time on lost causes. Personally, I'd rather try to deconstruct LaCroix's Napoleon complex, but that's never going to happen."
I laughed at her. "Yeah, that uptight control freak needs a couple of therapists."
Mazoline rolled her eyes again. "The Voerman twins need a couple of therapists. Too bad only one of them ever spoke to me, because examining both of them would have been very informative."
Yeah, I bet. Which is probably why only one of them ever spoke to you. I can't imagine Therese would trust anyone with her secrets, so... "Yeah, plus I can't imagine you got anything but lies and nonsense out of Jeanette. Therese would have taken it seriously and been much more interesting to talk to, but you want to talk about being too paranoid for therapy..."
She flashed me a rueful sidelong look. "It actually was Therese who came into my practice. Seems like you don't know the twins as well as you thought you did."
I actually stopped dead in the alley, staring at her aura to see if she was messing with me. I know I know them better than you do... Still, she was telling the truth. "Huh. I mean, I just figured..."
Mazoline stopped, turned, and interrupted me. "That Therese could never trust anyone enough to discuss her issues? You aren't wrong – that's how she is most of the time, and why she stopped coming to see me, but... She was going through a very rough time in the 70s. She was not adjusting to the changing times, the shifting values at all. Jeanette was really the only one of the pair going out or socializing at all. Therese... she was completely isolating herself, furious at the world for falling into what she considered... what did she call it? 'Utter degeneracy,' I believe was the term. Anyway, my practice was new – I was embraced in the 70s. I'd run into Jeanette at one of the Hollywood clubs. She found the idea of a Kindred therapist to be utterly hilarious, and said her sad uptight sister needed to see me worse than any other Kindred, and was the only Kindred desperate enough to speak to me. That last part was true enough – Therese was actually my first client, and helping her regain her confidence gained me enough fame to launch my career. By the 80s, Therese had come into herself, was able to accept the direction of society, and regained the confidence to live her unlife once more."
Now I was really and truly intrigued – and more than a little upset on Therese's behalf. "You know, they both need therapy, but Jeanette definitely needs it a whole lot more than Therese does, in my opinion. Therese has her issues, but she's got some handle on them, abides by a code of conduct. Jeanette's just... pure desire and chaos and violence, unbound by anything."
Mazoline was slightly taken aback at my comment, then slowly looked me over, reassessing me, making me feel self conscious. "Seems you do know the twins pretty well. Honestly, I'm surprised to find any man who isn't all praise for Jeanette and condemnation of Therese for being an uptight prude. Ugh, don't even get me started over gender roles and the utter hypocrisy of the patriarchy – which, unfortunately, both twins have internalized in very unhealthy ways. But you're quite right – Therese at least acknowledges her issues, and tries to find a way to cope with them. Though, I won't lie, she's still in utter denial about some of her fundamental urges, and represses them to a very unhealthy degree. Almost as unhealthy as the acting out and emotional immaturity of her sister – almost. Not that I would do something as unprofessional as trying to diagnose someone I haven't properly analyzed, but..." She looked at me, genuinely curious. "What actually happened between the two of them recently?"
I swallowed and got very nervous. She's probably great with Auspex and I really don't want to go blabbing Therese's secrets. "Therese and I had enough of Jeanette's lies and double-dealing and lies. I was especially pissed after she tried to have me killed. So... in the end, I managed to help Therese gain the upper hand in her struggle with her sister. More through moral support than any actual physical intervention – I think Jeanette couldn't psychologically handle the fact that I hadn't been seduced into supporting her. Anyway... Jeanette isn't dead, but she's out of the picture until Therese says otherwise. Which will probably happen half past never." That was the version of events I was telling everyone, one that was technically true so I could say it with a straight face and aura, one that would keep Therese out of trouble. Why it was so important to me to keep her secrets and help her, was a complicated issue that went beyond just the drop of blood she'd fed me. Though, thinking back to that drop, I couldn't help but thirst for more – it tasted sweeter and more amazing than anything I had ever tasted.
"Hm..." Mazoline intoned, thinking, but no longer staring intently at me, instead staring off, thinking. "Interesting. It might actually be healthy for her, in a bizarre, fucked-up sort of way. So much of each of the sister's personalities are reactions against the other. Now that Therese has no one to act as a foil against, she'll finally have to come to terms with her hunger, her Beast, her sexuality... well, she could try to keep them repressed, but without Jeanette's excessive behavior to constantly offend her, she may not wish to any longer. It could work as a mirror image of the way that Jeanette, in the 70s, grew bored with her indulgent lifestyle when Therese wasn't around to be offended or upset by it. Hopefully Therese uses her time alone in a more productive way than Jeanette did – she engaged in increasingly excessive acts of hedonsim and bloodlust, almost becoming a study in the futility of trying to find satisfaction in mindless self indulgence."
That's... actually really interesting. The two sisters are foils to each other in more ways than you could know, Mazoline. Still, I hope you're right – I really do hope Therese manages to be happier and more balanced, now that she's the only personality. Though I find the idea that she'd ever be sexual in any way to be... rather unlikely. But then my mind started conjuring up fantasies, of her as a dom, a strict teacher getting off on power and holding my leash, and I... quickly changed the subject before I got myself too excited. "So, uh... I'm not learning Celerity any time soon. I already know Auspex, so why not teach me Presence? I mean, I know Dominate... that's close, right?"
Mazoline looked back at me and smiled. "Sure, that should be doable – though, honestly, it's easier to learn a Discipline you already know. In any case – I'd like to know how to drink safely before I start teaching you anything. C'mon – we've been standing around long enough." Mazoline turned and quickly walked off, leaving me to yet again play catch up.
I took a moment to look around, and realized that we'd moved into an increasingly miserable part of LA. We were still following a warren of alleys, winding through increasingly decrepit buildings. There were bums here and there, some in groups, huddled around trashcan fires or passing around bottles of beer, others sitting or standing alone. I looked like one of them, had learned what it was like to live like one of them. I felt truly sorry for them, living these lives of desperation, with no future, no real hope. But part of me was a predator, and while I wasn't hungry, my companion was, so I was looking for a lone bum, a lone victim in an obscure corner.
I approached her and offered my nicest smile, but all I got in return was a scowl on a leathery wrinkled face. "Get away from me! Leave me alone!" she screeched in a gravelly voice that clearly was a product of years of chain-smoking.
I put up my hands defensively, and decided to offer her the one thing I knew she might want. I pulled out a pack, took a cig for myself, then offered her one, telling her, "Hey, don't worry, not gonna hurt you. Here, want a cig?"
She took it, peering at me suspiciously from sunken eyes, her hair a rat's nest that had been washed in the last century perhaps. Even as she lit it, she said, "I do. But I don't believe you! You're after my aluminum cans, aren't you? Well, you're not going to get them! Just get away!"
Mazoline was suppressing a giggle, then she stepped in. "Now, Mary, we've spoken about this. While the cans are worth something at the recycling center, they aren't valuable enough for anyone to realistically attempt to steal them."
Her eyes went wide at the sight of my companion. "Miss Maz? Whatcha doin' out here, in the alleys and filth?"
Mazoline moved up close to the filthy vagrant, Mary, her smooth elfin beauty contrasting sharply with the harsh, wrinkled, haggard face of the woman in front of her. Mazoline radiated sympathy. "I'm here to make sure all of you out in the streets are okay. I've heard there's a cure being developed for the pandemic, and I want to make sure you get it if you need it. So I need a sample of your blood, so I can test it." Fear gripped the woman's face and aura, but Mazoline stepped in, her voice soothing. "Don't worry – I won't tell anyone if you're sick. I won't let them send you off to the camp. Come on Mary, you know me..."
The woman slowly relaxed, a deep fear uncoiling inside her. "A-alright, but... don't tell anyone, okay?"
"I won't, I promise," Mazoline told her, giving her a wide smile that lit up my heart, even though she wasn't facing me. Mazoline blinked, then looked to the side, thinking. "Um, hold on, I need a syringe..."
I have a few Strauss gave me... "Hold on," I told her, then started digging through my plastic bags of junk, looking for my overcoat, my inventory. I pulled out the coat after a bit of searching, and then proceeded to search through it. I dug through the pockets, and finally produced a syringe. Mazoline eyed me askance, but took it without question.
"Alright, dear. This will be quick, so just hold still..." She smoothly and quickly had the needle in a vein, and blood withdrawn in no time flat. "Thank you, Mary. I'll let you know what the test results say. You stay safe, okay?"
Mary nodded, looking up at Mazoline with absolute adoration. "You too, miss Maz. Now ain't no time for a pretty young lady like you to be out here."
Mazoline shot her a reassuring smile. "That's why I brought him along. Don't worry, I'm heading back to the shelter now. I'll see you there tomorrow night, I hope. Bye."
We walked away from the crazy homeless woman. I had my overcoat in my hands, along with all my other clothes in plastic shopping bags. Realizing that I didn't need my hands burdened any longer, I tossed the bags and the ruined suit inside into a nearby trashcan fire, then slipped my overcoat on. When we were well away from any and all people, I couldn't help but comment, "I thought you said you don't waste your time on lost causes. Psychoanalyzing Mary seems pretty hopeless"
Mazoline slowly shook her head, a deep sadness in her eyes. "She is, but I can't help but try, to hope there's something still in there I can save. When I said that, it was a joke, in more ways than one. I'm pretty much the queen of lost causes. In my youth I fought to restore our democracy from the ugly corporate imperialist machine that's hijacked it, which, you know, has only taken over more and more since the 60s. Then I tried to fix the world by fixing people's mental health. Ha! Now I fight to heal mental health of the Kindred of LA – which is going so well. Oh, and I try to do anything for the homeless of this city – guess how that's working out? And then this fucking pandemic, on top of everything else... I've been bleeding my heart out since before you were born, and it all just seems to get worse and worse each night." She looked up at me, a single bloody tear streaming down her face, a deep and terrible despair etched into her face, in her amber eyes. "But I've got to keep trying, because no one else is stepping up to care for the lost and forgotten, now are they?"
My heart caught in my chest at the sight of her so sad, so desperate and filled with despair. I didn't know what to say – because she was right. I'd decided a long time ago that I just wasn't going to worry about the world, about politics and ideals, or go around trying to save the poor or the whales or any of it. It all just seemed so... hopeless and pointless. I'd decided I would focus on my life, the people and world around me. Which, in the end, had led to a life that was simple, safe, predictable... and empty. But staring into her eyes, so raw with compassion and pain, I... Horrible as it is, it only confirms that my decision was correct. How can one live with such pain, struggling and caring about such hopeless causes? I mean, you practically have to believe in miracles to think you could possibly make a difference in such a cold, selfish world. Or... maybe that attitude is exactly why the world is so fucked up. In that moment, I actually opened up and was honest with her. "What you do, Mazoline... it's admirable. I don't know how you do it – keep caring, keep putting your heart out like that. I... I stopped a long time ago. Long before I died, I let my heart die."
She looked at me, with the pain of the world in her eyes. She stared into me, stared through me, and I felt like she was looking into my soul. She asked, "Did you ever really let your heart live? Was there ever a time when you cared about the lost and forgotten, the poor and the helpless? Or were you, like so many, taught by your family and society to disregard them, to blame them for their poverty? You were told the poor were that way because they're lazy or stupid. You were taught to believe it wasn't your problem, your issue, and just put them out of your mind so you could focus on your life, weren't you?"
I had no answer to that, because she was right – I'd never really cared. My conservative parents, for all their religious mania, had disregarded all the bible verses about helping the poor, and taught me to disregard the poor as deserving of their plight, to mock the mentally ill as being weak, and to focus my whole attention on not becoming one of the filthy outcasts. When I'd realized their utter hypocrisy, instead of growing a conscience, I just abandoned my faith while internalizing their apathetic attitudes. I looked aside and down, ashamed. What could I do, though? It takes all one's effort just to stay out of the gutter – you reach down to rescue anyone, and you get pulled down with them. I recalled Jenny, the way she'd nearly destroyed me with her wild chaos. I recalled her friends, punk and grunge kids living on the edge, my first real experience with poverty, and the way I'd nearly lost everything in fits of irrational generosity that had nearly drained all my inheritance, everything I had after my parents had died.
I felt something – a hand, touching my cheek, almost making me jerk instinctively back. Mazoline's skin was soft yet corpse cold, but still comforting, and I let her guide my face back up to face hers. She'd wiped the bloody tear away, and I saw only raw compassion radiating out at me. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. Well, maybe a little, maybe just enough to wake you up to the biases that might have been programmed into you, but you aren't a bad person for following what you'd been told your whole life. In fact, you honestly care a whole lot more than most Kindred, and I truly respect you for it."
I didn't know what to say about that. I certainly didn't think of myself as particularly morally upstanding. Intelligent, sure. A devious survivor, absolutely. After everything I'd been through I was pretty tough at this point. Was I a monster? No, I'd held on to my Humanity. But honestly, I'd been mostly looking out for myself. I'd killed plenty of people, and at a certain point it had stopped really bothering me. Sherry's spirit still haunted me from when I'd lost control and drained her dry. Though... maybe the fact I care at all is what makes her words have some truth to them. Still...I almost felt like I had to try harder to be decent and care, to make her faith in me more than just empty words. All I could say was, "Thanks, Mazoline. It means a lot, but... I don't know if I deserve that. I mean, I did just burn down an entire hotel to seize domain."
Mazoline gave me more sympathy than I felt I deserved. "You didn't plan to do that. You weren't wrong, about that mob being a threat to everyone. If you want to be honest, most Kindred would never have committed such an act – but they'd have avoided it out of pure cowardice. If they'd pulled off such a feat, they'd be doing nothing but bragging, there would be no remorse. If you're feeling guilty about the innocent victims – the EMTs, the police, the bystanders – you could always try to do something for them."
"Like what?" I asked, utterly flabbergasted about how I could even fix the damage I'd caused.
Mazoline looked at me, earnest hope in her eyes. "If you really care, if you really want to make amends, you could do a charity event for the victims of the gunfight and the fire. You know, with the club you just gained Domain over."
That took me aback. "Um... I mean, I like the idea, but... I wouldn't know the first thing about how to do that."
Mazoline gave me a wide smile, genuinely happy to hear I wasn't saying no. "Don't worry about the details. I've been organizing charity events for any and all lost causes for decades. I can talk to certain members of my clan – they'll respect what you're trying to do. Plus, they'll all be interested in being associated with you – you are the juiciest source of gossip right now, and that's before you come to the Baron's meet tomorrow. But... if I go contacting my clanmates to organize something like this, they'll be very upset if you pull out. So, are you serious about this?"
Mazoline looked at me, wide-eyed with hope. I probably should have thought it through, thought about the implications and politics – but honestly, all I could think about in that moment was making her happy, proving her right for thinking I was a good person, and maybe assuaging my guilt and her despair. "Yes, of course. I want to do something to make up for what I've done. I really appreciate you helping me – honestly, I'd have never have thought of this on my own, I'd have just had to live with the guilt. So, thank you."
Maozline's elfin face lit up, her pink lips spreading into a wide smile that made her look bright and overjoyed. She leaned into me and gave me a kiss – nothing sexual, a quick, chaste peck on my lips, but it lit up every nerve in my dead body and made me feel alive again for an electrifying moment. She pulled back and beamed at me. "No, thank you. For still caring, for still having some compassion in that dead heart of yours. For helping – and not just for helping the victims, or the Anarch cause, but for helping the homeless, too. C'mon. As fun as it would be to hang out and talk all night, we came out to Skid Row for a reason."
She turned around and sauntered off, swinging her hips wide as she walked away, and I followed, entranced. I quickly caught up to her, staring at her beautiful face from beside her. She was radiating genuine joy, in her face and in her aura, and I was absolutely overjoyed that I could bring her joy.
"Oh god, you're so desperately lonely you're starting to fall in love with anyone that will show you any attention or affection, aren't you?"
I really don't appreciate your disdainful dismissal of all my feelings. She really appreciates me for who I am. I think... I don't think it's all an act, her aura matches her words and expressions. Besides, who else do I have to talk to about my life, my feelings? Or do you expect me to be utterly cold and dead in every way?
"Hmph. I think that talking to her about your life might actually be helpful – she's genuine about trying to be a Kindred therapist, foolish as the notion is. She is, in fact, genuinely appreciative of your fledgling guilt and morality. I'm simply saying that she'd make a better therapist than lover. If you plan on swapping blood with another Kindred, try to aim a little higher than Mazoline. Make it someone of more importance than the poor lover of lost puppies, yes?"
After Mazoline's heartfelt compassion, I found Serena's cold, calculating ways to be distasteful. This isn't the middle ages, where we marry to secure alliances. I mean, it's not like she and I are even doing anything – it was just one kiss – but I like her, and I'd like to see where this goes. Like I said before – who says I have to do what you want? I pushed Serena away again, and focused on Mazoline as we reached the end of the alley, approaching the street. I really wanted to do something to piss Serena off and make Mazoline happy, so I asked Mazoline, "So, you still want to know how to test the blood?"
She turned back to me, beaming at me. "I thought you'd never offer." she said, stepping close to me, so close her tight leather jumpsuit touched my overcoat. She held up the syringe, and told me to, "Show me all your dirty Tremere secrets," as she handed it over.
I took the syringe, stiff with nerves, my blood almost feeling like it was racing around with excitement. I held the syringe, and struggled to think about anything, to remember what I was supposed to show her – all I wanted to do was stare at her, get closer to her. But, I pulled my mind back to the task at hand. "I, uh, heh... it's really not that complicated. Uh... you just take a drop of blood, and uh, you taste it. You know, without swallowing it. You just, uh, hold it on your tongue, and you learn things about the blood, about the person it came from. When you're done tasting, you just scrape the blood off your tongue, maybe pour some water on there to rinse it off."
Mazoline smiled widely, an incredulous look in her eyes. "That's it? It's that simple?"
I laughed. "Yeah, it's that simple. The clan makes such a big deal about it, and this is something anyone can do. Although, it helps to have Auspex active, obviously."
Mazoline leaned in close, her nose almost touching mine. "Show me," she whispered.
I moved to do as she'd asked immediately, moving the syringe over my mouth, extending my tongue, depressing the plunger, pushing out a single drop. It hit my tongue – and I immediately tasted rancid horror, death and decay. I lurched back, gagging. I reached down and pulled out my knife, scraping the blood off my tongue. I really wished I had some water to rinse it off, but with none available, I just scraped the top layer of skin off my tongue, desperate to be rid of the taste.
Mazoline looked over to me, sadness in her eyes. "I don't suppose you're reacting that way just because you're a snob about drinking the blood of the homeless, are you?"
I regained control of myself and looked over at her, sympathetic and sad. "She's sick. I can immediately tell. You can, too – try it. It's perfectly safe – though I wish we had some water to wash away the taste."
Without a word, she grabbed the syringe and placed a drop on her outstretched tongue. She shuddered, immediately reacting as I had, scraping her tongue clean even as she fought to keep from gagging. She was coughing, wheezing, and in a moment I was next to her, holding her, asking, "You okay?"
Mazoline looked up, blood welling up in her eyes, and she told me, "No. Not because of the taste – I mean, it was awful, but... knowing that Mary is sick, that she's as good as dead, makes me sick to my stomach. I promised her there was a cure, and there isn't any. She's going to die, isn't she?"
I wanted to reassure Mazoline, to let her know that there was some hope. "I mean... Strauss is working on one. If we can find these plaguebearers, get some blood samples before killing them, then maybe there's a chance."
It was a long shot, a desperate hope, and I recalled feeding such a line to Paul before, promising him that we could save Hannah. Yeah... that didn't exactly work out as I'd promised. Why do I always just tell people what I think they want to hear? Mazoline gave me a sad smile that told me she wasn't buying it at all. "Well then, I guess we had better get back to looking for whoever is responsible for this. Thank you, Lucius – for offering me hope, slim as it is. And for teaching me this ability – it means a lot, it really does. I just wish my first lesson wasn't so bitter – but then, that's how most lessons about life generally taste, isn't it?"
Mazoline turned from me and walked away, and I followed in her shadow, wishing there was something I could do to help her.
"Oh, please, childe. A mad bum has become sick and may die. Such things were all too common in my time – they always have been and always will be. Only in the modern age is society even able to organize any energy or effort to fight such things on a large scale – and this is the very society the Camarilla has helped build. Not with her bleeding heart love, but with logic and hierarchy and structure and power. This poor soul will always have her heart broken over some tragedy – is this truly how you would spend eternity?"
I was torn. Part of me wanted to care – but part of me struggled to, and part of me said the pain wasn't worth it. Still, I replied to Serena, You're quite the cynic.
"Hmph. I'm a realist. I'm not utterly unconcerned with the plight of the poor and sick. It's why I encourage you to fix this Pandemic, and it's why I've looked the other way on your teaching her the not-so-secret knowledge of blood tasting – hopefully she will teach others, and our kind can keep from spreading this illness. But what good does such deep compassion do? It cripples her. Find someone else, for God's sake, Lucius!"
Nah. I like her.
"Ugh. This is why I cannot stand Toreador."
Your... clanism is duly noted, Serena.
We walked through streets filled with masses of the homeless, sleeping in old tents, in dumpsters, in sleeping bags. Their tents and masses spilled out into the streets, into the sad, broken monument to our civilization's lost and forgotten known as Skid row. We walked along the streets, and the homeless looked up at Mazoline like she was a savior, an angel. I guess she would be famous among this community. Many extended their hands to her wordlessly, like they were blessing her or hoping for a blessing. Mazoline wore a facial expression like that of a suffering saint. It was an almost biblical scene.
We continued in this way, through Skid row, the valley of homelessness nestled in the midst of the prosperity of downtown, the Fashion and Arts district just a couple blocks away. As we moved even deeper into desolation, we approached the so-called Los Angeles River, which was really a barren concrete basin surrounded by asphalt roads and train tracks, a stretch of urban desolation with a straight drain of water in the middle, separating Downtown from the run-down gangland of East LA. Within sight of that industrial blight, the entire population of homeless disappeared. Not instantly, but over the course of two blocks, the streets went from clogged with desperate vagrants to utterly empty. It felt eerie, desolate, cryptlike. Mazoline commented, "I always dreamed of finding a way to solve the homelessness problem on Skid Row, but not like this."
I didn't think anything could be more disconcerting than a crowd of unwashed miserables reaching out for desperate hope, but their absence felt like death, like extinction. I had been through a lot in my unlife, and it took a lot to unnerve me, but I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, like some disaster was on the verge of happening. I tried to dispel the gloom, in my heart and Mazoline's. "This is good, though. Bill said that this was the part of skid row where no one goes. That means we're close. Now... we just need some sort of direction, some idea of where to go. Hm... there's really no one to talk to. Maybe we'll find someone in an alley?"
Mazoline looked around at the dark empty streets, eyes and aura filled with sadness and a touch of fear and anger. "Probably not – but we might find something. Come on."
Mazoline quickly turned towards a nearby alley, and I followed, not really sure what she meant by that comment. The alleys were dark and abandoned. No light filtered back here, and with the sky overcast, it was practically pitch dark. If I hadn't been undead and able to see with Auspex, I'd have probably run out of there quickly. I can see why no one comes here. I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up – you can just feel something's off here. We wandered deeper into the dark alleys, moving aimlessly.
Right as I was about to suggest summoning Paul and Hannah again, we came on something other than bare concrete and asphalt – we found someone's sleeping bag. It was disheveled, sort of looking like someone had left it in a hurry – or been dragged out of it. I moved over to look for clues, but Mazoline beat me to it. However, she didn't start digging through it or looking around – instead, she just sat in the lotus position next to the bag, then placed her hand on it, closing her eyes.
"Uh... what are you doing?" I asked, genuinely curious.
Mazoline sighed, clearly annoyed, but then collected herself with an unnecessary breath. "It's the Spirit's Touch." When I looked at her with blank incomprehension, she explained, "It's an Auspex ability. A more advanced one than you know, clearly. I can explain it to you, if you want. After all, you've shared so much with me, and all I've done in return is cry about the fact one of my flock is dying. Plus, learning more of a discipline you already know is a whole lot easier than trying to learn a new one."
My eyes went wide, and I was genuinely excited. I'd forgotten about the knowledge she'd promised me, caught up as I'd been in her emotional roller-coaster. I gave her a deep, grateful smile. "Well, I'd really appreciate the lesson. Auspex has, honestly, been what I've been using almost nonstop since my Embrace – you can never be too perceptive, or know too much, right?"
Mazoline gave me a sad smile. "Unfortunately, you certainly can. There are definitely things I wish I'd never come to understand..." She shook her head, pulling herself out of her melancholy. Giving me a smile, she gestured to the ground. "Ah, forget it. Please, sit." I did so, wondering where this was going. "Alright. Now. Spirit's touch allows you to resonate with an object, and understand its... psychic signature, I suppose you could call it. You can feel the feelings that were put into it, experience visions connected to the object. Now, some items work better than others – a random trash can wouldn't have the same kind of emotional resonance as, say, a favorite teddy bear of a young child. The more meaning it had to someone, the more energy is in it, and the more you can learn from it. You can see things about the owner – including flashes of the last time they touched the object, which might give us a clue as to where this person went off to."
I nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "Okay, I think I get it. So, now... how, exactly, do I do it?"
Mazoline told me to, "First, activate Auspex." I did so. "Now, you have to physically touch the object." She laid her hands on the sleeping bag, and I followed suit, mirroring her actions as I sat directly across from her. "Finally, you need to enter a deep meditative trance. I have some suggestions, but mostly you want to be utterly separated from everything around you, in a disconnected state, focused entirely on the object in front of you. Uh... I assume I don't have to teach you basic meditative technique?"
I nodded my head emphatically, glad to finally have someone I could show off my mad meditation skills to. "I'd already learned the basics before I met my sire, and she taught me how to strictly discipline my mind, and enter trance states. I might be able to pick this up pretty quickly. Um... whenever you're ready."
Mazoline gave me a wide smile, then turned her eyes downward to the filthy bag in front of us. While I'd much rather stare at her, I turned my eyes to the the same focus point, and began using the light and void to separate myself from all thoughts, all emotions, all sensory input. I focused only on the object before me, seeing only it, smelling only it, feeling only it. For awhile I sat there, becoming more and more deeply involved in this dirty collection of rags, until it was all I saw, felt, or smelled. I would've gagged, but as it was I already smelled like the sewers, so...
It took nearly ten minutes, but right as I began to doubt if this would work, I had a flash of a vision. Just someone's face – a man, disheveled brown hair, face covered in dark stubble, face bright and pudgy, nose red – he honestly looked like a drunk, and a moment later I saw a flash of a whiskey bottle in his hand.
I was so surprised and excited that I immediately lost the trance state. I practically jumped, exclaiming, "I saw him! I saw the man who slept here!"
Mazoline was less than enthused. Surprised and annoyed. "Ah. I'd sort of thought you'd... take longer than that. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's impressive that you caught any sort of vision at all... but I'd already seen him. I was, ah, sort of trying to get some more information... like what his last moments looked like, what attacked him, where it came from. I was getting close, but, see, it requires intense concentration. So, while I'm happy for you and all..."
I was immediately embarrassed. "Oh. Right. Sorry for getting excited like a kid, I just..."
Mazoline leaned over, touching my shoulder with her hand. "No, no, it's okay. It's impressive, actually. I sort of thought you'd stay there for awhile, not seeing anything at all, honestly. Just... why don't you practice again. Stay in the trance, see what else you can see, yeah?"
Right... so stay quiet and don't bother her while she tries to do something actually useful with this ability. Still, it couldn't hurt to practice again. I might actually get the hang of this. So I settled myself down, and entered the trance yet again, focusing on the object right in front of me. This time, when the vision of the man appeared, I managed to hold onto my evenness of mind – barely, but I did. The vision of the man remained, but with occasional snatches of him doing this or that – sleeping, drinking, hiding sometimes, a lot of crying... I started to get a sense of his life, such as it was through the haze of the alcohol, desperation, and pain. I began to feel a mixture of pity and boredom – I felt bad for the poor guy, but cycles of depression and alcoholic oblivion weren't exactly stimulating. I mostly stayed in the trance out of a desire to practice this new talent, maybe get a little bit of useful information. I couldn't say exactly how long it took – about twenty minutes, ten in the trance, if I had to guess – but then I saw something different than the flashes of life. This was a single coherent vision, like a video rather than a photo reel. The man suddenly wakes up in the dark, hearing a growl. He looks around. Out of the shadows comes something from a nightmare – reaching out from the dark, were long claws with leathery skin covered in cuts and sores. Soon, a horrible face, twisted and misshapen into monstrous gremlin-like form, and a distended mouth opening to reveal countless crooked yellow and brown fangs...
I felt a spike of fear, either at the image or the memory of the man's fear, but I was jolted out of the vision, back to the here and now. I looked around suddenly, trying to see if the horrible monster was still lurking in the shadows. I looked around, then looked back at Mazoline, only to see her eyes were open. I figured it was safe to speak. "Mazoline. I saw him! The plaguebearer, the one who took the drunk who slept here – it's definitely a Nosferatu."
Mazoline gave me a patronizing smile. "Very good work, Lucius. You've picked up on this really quickly. I don't suppose you saw which way the ugly killer took our poor victim?"
I tried to recall, but as soon as I'd seen the monstrous face peer out of the darkness, felt the victim's fear, I'd lost my concentration. I gave her a rueful smile. "Nah. I didn't get that far into the vision."
Mazoline gave me a kind look and a giggle. "That's okay. It was a very unpleasant and disturbing scene – I would've lost my concentration if I hadn't been doing this for years. The plaguebearer went that way." she said, pointing behind me. Mazoline quickly jumped up from sitting cross-legged to standing upright, then gracefully walked around the rags and me. I scrambled up, trying to catch up to her, not nearly as graceful as Mazoline. I was up and running after her as she walked around a corner in the alley. I went around the corner after her. Mazoline had stopped moving forward resolutely, and was instead wandering around, moving up to a door, then a dumpster, touching each, closing her eyes.
I followed her around like a lost puppy, not exactly sure what to do. I figured she was using Spirit's Touch, but I also figured that Mazoline was better at it than I, and she didn't seem to be having much success, so I doubted I could be of much use. These items aren't exactly all that emotionally meaningful, so it can't be easy. If she can't pull it off, I wouldn't have a chance. When we reached the end of the alley and made it out into the street, Mazoline stopped, her mouth twisting up into a sort of cute combination of a scowl and a pout.
Dead end, huh? Well, what now? We stood there, silent and lost. In the deafening silence, I heard a whisper. Pushing Auspex, I focused on heightening my senses, trying to desperately hear where this sound was coming from. I realized, a moment later, that it was coming from right next to me. I turned quickly, fearing the presence of the very monster we were trying to reach. But there was nothing, hard as I stared, hard as I pressed my awareness to see the unseen presence. Though... I almost saw the faintest outline of a person, barely there, just an Aural outline, but...
"What is it?" Mazoline asked, making me jump in surprise.
I turned to her, seeing her stare over my shoulder. "I, uh... I thought I heard a whispering voice, and maybe the faintest outline of someone..."
"Hm..." Her auburn eyes narrowed, and she stared intently at the spot I'd been examining earlier. I turned back, and tried to see what strange presence was stalking us.
"Ugh. So perceptive, yet so blind. Have you forgotten about your wraithly companions so quickly?"
My eyes widened in shock, as I realized that Serena was right – I'd totally forgotten about them! I entered the morbid meditative state, even as I grabbed Paul and Hannah's fingerbones. Suddenly, the faint outline became thicker – not quite a full aura, but certainly the ghost of one, clearly visible. Within the aural outline, was Paul – he was barely visible, but I could make out his features enough to identify him. What the... I could never see him before, only hear him!
"Hm... it wouldn't at all be that you've just improved your ability in Auspex, and thus your ability to perceive the unseen in general, now could it? Stop your navel-gazing contemplation and talk to him!"
Coming to, I said, "Paul! I can see you – actually see you! Was that you whispering at me?"
Mazoline eyed me askance, saying, "I can't see anything..."
"Oh, I, uh – grab his fingerbone, enter the morbid meditative state. I just thought that it might be Paul trying to reach us, and it totally is."
I shut up and listened, and finally could hear Paul's words. "-been trying to tell you, there's a bunch of Spectres going into the alley a block down."
It took me a minute to process what he'd said. "Wait, which way?" I asked.
He pointed to his right. I turned and stared in that direction. I couldn't see anything other than empty, deserted streets, barely lit, filled with brick and boarded windows, and two alleys in the middle of the block beyond. "They're heading into the one across the street, over there. We're about to go fight them – the Anarchs Shadows, Hannah, and I. But I wanted you to know – it might lead you two to the plaguebearer you're searching for."
I peered carefully towards the indicated alley, but it was all just empty darkness to me. "I can hear them," Mazoline added, "but I can't see anything except the slightest aural outline of Paul..."
I turned to her, looking at her narrowed eyes, her face scrunched up in intense, searching concentration that I found positively adorable. I placed my hand on her shoulder, pulling her from her reverie. I gave her a kind, reassuring smile. "It's okay. I only just gained the ability to see them – probably thanks to you. But I am a lot more used to seeing across the veil. I'm sure once you do more necromancy, spend more time talking to the dead, you'll be able to see them clearly."
Mazoline crossed her arms, a little petulant, as she looked aside, but then she gave me a sidelong look and a rueful smile. "Hmph. I guess you're right. It's just strange to me – usually I'm far more perceptive of the unseen than most anyone in this city. No sense in getting jealous – I should really be grateful to you." She looked down for a moment, a little embarrassed, then looked me right in the eye. "Honestly, you've opened my eyes to quite a bit. I probably would never have found this plaguebearer, or even started looking, without you. Thank you." She gave me a wide smile, her smooth pink lips parting to reveal perfect teeth, her dimples pressing out her wide cheekbones, her amber eyes lighting up with joy. I was practically stunned by her beauty and her gratitude.
I struggled to formulate a response. "I, uh, er, no problem. Just, uh, glad I could help."
Mazoline giggled, laughing at my nervousness, but in an way that made it seem like she found it endearing. " C'mon – we've got a plaguebearer to chase down. Lead the way, spirit seer."
Ooohh... I like that title. I was so pleased and embarrassed I could barely think – I turned away quickly, though I knew I was being irrational. It's not like I would blush if I wasn't actively making my blood circulate, and she could see my aura from the front or back, but it was an instinctual thing. I quickly led the way down the block and into the alley.
It wasn't until I was right in the alley that I started to notice something was off. I couldn't exactly see any spirits – I couldn't see anyone but Paul and Hannah, and even then only if I focused on them and held their fingerbones. But I noticed quite a lot of slight wisps of aura, heard a mess of barely audible whispering. I stopped just inside the alley, as I felt everything get colder, and I knew, in some intuitive way, that I had just stepped into a mass of spirits.
Mazoline had stopped right behind me, so close I could feel her leather-clad body shiver. "I might not be able to see the spirits like you," she said, "but I can feel that they're all around us back here."
I turned looked at her over my shoulder, seeing anxiety and curiosity written on her elfin face as she looked around. "Yeah," I told her, "we're literally inside a mass of ghosts." As her eyes widened at that revelation, I told her, "It's best not to think about that too hard. We're close, I think."
Maozline shook herself out of her reverie, and started walking forward, with me at her side, down this truly dark, unlit alley. If not for Aupsex, we both would have been unable to see anything back here. It was eerie, and we stayed close to each other, practically walking on top of each other. This back alley was dead empty – no dumpsters, no debris, it was... eerie, feeling like nothingness. There was only one thing back here – a manhole cover.
We both stopped over it, staring at it for a moment. Mazoline was the first to reach down, closing her eyes and touching it with her hand. It was only about twenty seconds later, and she all but jolted back upright, shuddering. Shaking her head, she told me, "That's it. He's down there."
I looked over to her with concern, her eyes wide in her shadowed face. "You okay? What did you see?"
She looked over to me, dark, bloody tears welling up in her eyes. "So many victims... he's taken so many in here... some faces I knew, Lucius, I..."
I put a hand on her shoulder, steadying her, telling her, "Hey, hey, it's okay. We're going to stop him, yeah? C'mon, I've got you. I'm pretty formidable, I bet you are too. This is just one Kindred, right? He doesn't have a chance. We'll make sure there's justice for his victims."
Mazoline's normally elfin, kind, sad face, twisted into an angry version of itself, her beautiful mouth done up into a snarl, her fangs now exposed. "Justice. Yes, because when do the poor, forgotten, or lost ever get justice? Well, they will tonight. Let's go down there. I'm ready."
I didn't need any more prompting than that. I pulled out my tire iron and went through the familiar motions, and soon had the cover off. I led the way, descending into the dark pit first. Mazoline descended gingerly, her aura radiating anxiety and disgust. She hesitated before jumping off the ladder – she clearly didn't want to step foot down here. When she finally made herself step down, her heeled boots hit the filthy water with a disgusting squelch. Even in the darkness, with Auspex I could see Mazoline's face twist in disgust, staring down at her feet in disbelief. Huh. Funny. This doesn't bother me at all... "Hey. It's not that great, but... you'll get used to it."
Mazoline looked over at me, disbelief and a little disgust in her aura, though she tried to hide it on her face. "I hope I never get used to this. Have you spent a lot of time in the sewers?"
I wilted under her judgment. "Uh, I mean, not by choice, but it is a great way to get away when there are no other options. I wouldn't have escaped the cops after the Empire Arms, otherwise..."
She shuddered. "I suppose so. I just would never have thought of it. I've honestly never been down in the sewers, ever, and I'm pretty sure I've been undead longer than you've been alive."
"Uh..." I struggled to formulate a response. Why did I ever start coming down here? Like, why in the hell did this ever occur to me, let along become normal? I thought back, desperate to justify myself and seem like maybe not such a freak. "Oh, I remember. Right when I was a new fledgling, I had to do something for Therese – drive a ghost out of a hotel she'd bought. The only way there was through the sewers. That was my first experience with sewers – or spirits."
"Hm." Mazoline thought for a moment, then shivered. "Well, whatever. Let's just get this over with." She turned and walked away, from me and the conversation, and I followed.
"Well, funny how quickly her endless compassion evaporated. That's most Toreador for you – full of love until things get ugly, unable to handle the gritty aspects of life. Get used to having to justify yourself to her – there will be plenty of that if you get more deeply involved."
That actually gave me pause – this was a little unsettling. Still, I'm pretty sure most Kindred – hell most people – would judge me for crawling around in the sewers like this. I know Therese would.
"Don't jump to conclusions. I think she'd find it disgusting, but would at least appreciate the practical side of it. Just be thankful you aren't so squeamish you can consider it as an option. Now pay attention to your surroundings – danger could be anywhere."
I focused on the task at hand, looking for any signs of anything unusual. As we wandered, we quickly hit a brick wall – literally, the path forward was bricked up. "Um, that's not normal."
Mazoline looked at the obstacle, annoyed. "Ah. I wouldn't know. Well, I guess I'm glad you've had as much experience in this filth as you have. So, you think our plaguebearer did this?"
I nodded, glad to have my strange habits appreciated. "Probably. They've probably got this whole section sealed off. C'mon, let's try another way." I led the way now, as we turned around and traced our steps back. In the darkness, I could see the writhing outlines of spectral shapes. I almost didn't want to see them, almost turned off Auspex, but I knew I had to keep an eye out for the Nosferatu we were hunting. I decided to lean into the spectral vision, grabbing the fingerbones and trying to see or hear Paul or Hannah, but I couldn't detect either. So I just led Mazoline around the dark, dank tunnels, searching blindly. Still, there weren't that many paths to go down – most every way I went led to bricks or steel bars, except for one strange open drainage pit in the middle of the sewer tunnels, and a narrow pipe that led out of the horrifying cesspit that the sewers drained into. Even I had more hygienic sense than to go swimming in raw sewage – I figured Mazoline would never look at me the same after that. I climbed down into it, looked around, figured out where I was, and returned back to her to report what I'd found.
We kept wandering around. After a bit, I realized something, something that had been bothering me, but I hadn't consciously noticed until now. "It's quiet down here. Like dead quiet."
"I mean, yeah, it's the sewers."
"No," I responded, "it's not usually this quiet. There's usually rats, bugs... here, there's nothing. It's eerie."
Mazoline stopped and contemplated, listening carefully. "I'm sort of glad, but... you're right. Ugh. I guess it means we're in the right place, though. I'm going to take it as an encouraging sign."
I smiled back at her. "Right. I like your optimism. Let's keep looking. We're going to find this monster's lair any minute now."
It wasn't long before my words were proved correct. We came back to the drainage hole, and it occurred to me that, "The only place we haven't been yet is on the other side of that." Mazoline eyed it with distaste, then ran along the side of the pipe in a blur, quickly reaching the other side. She turned and tossed a smirk over her shoulder, all but daring me to catch up. I took a moment, forced blood into my muscles, then ran along the side as best I could. I almost slipped and fell in the sewage – but I managed to stumble forward and barely made it to the far edge of the hole. I slammed into it hard, and held on for dear life, struggling to pull myself up, pushing more blood into my muscles to boost my strength. Mazoline came over to help me, but I managed to scramble up on my own despite the deluge drenching and pushing me back down. I pulled myself upright, dripping nasty water. Mazoline tried not to look too disgusted, but I could see it in her aura. "Let's... just keep going," I said, and we continued without another word.
We went around a corner and reached a makeshift barricade, pallets and debris piled high. "Okay," Mazoline said. "I don't know much about the sewers, but that's definitely not normal. I think we're almost there." She vaulted over the obstacle effortlessly, yet again leaving me to struggle to catch up. On the other side was a wide open space, with an opening to the left. Mazoline was standing in front of the opening, staring agape. I ran over to her to see what had stopped her dead in her tracks.
What I saw can only be described as a dark temple. There were two rows of pillars, each with a burning lantern on it, leading to a terrible raised altar on the far wall, lit by a trashcan fire. On that wall, was a man, crucified, his entrails hanging out. Between the pillars were hooks, on which were suspended various victims. Some were suspended by shackles on their wrists, others had the hooks running through their bodies, usually their abdomens. The worst part, though – these victims were all alive, even the crucified man. They were moaning, shouting, begging for help, telling us to run – it was a horrifying cacophony of agony. Even I, whose heart was cold and who had been through so very much, struggled to take it all in. Mazoline's poor bleeding heart must have been breaking. Me walking up to her seemed to break the spell she was under, because she declared, "We have to help them!" then ran in at a blur.
"Maz! Hold on, goddamnit!" This wasn't how I'd planned on going in. I took a moment, reaching into my overcoat, pulling out my submachine gun and my knife, at least trying to be ready before running after her. She'd run up to one of the victims, and was trying to lift them up, get them off the hook. I looked around, scanning with Auspex. I noticed a couple of things – one, this place was full of spectral auras, barely visible, but there. Second, there was some entity, wraithly yet not, more visible than the other spirits, hovering in the air above the altar area, looking decidedly like a hooded grim reaper – the aura was a plethora of rapidly shifting colors, as well. Still, it was transparent, wraithly, clearly in the world of the dead, so I stopped staring, looking for the threat in the physical world. That's when I noticed that there were living humans hiding behind a couple of the pillars.
Pointing my gun straight ahead, I rounded one of the pillars, only to see an aura in the shape of a person, with nothing inside it. Curious, I popped off a couple of shots. The person suddenly appeared, falling back and to the ground. "Ah!" He exclaimed, bleeding out. He was miserable figure, covered in rags and boils, clearly sick. "Fuck – how'd you see me?"
"I'll be asking the questions," I replied. He didn't seem too fazed by the bullets. Is he a ghoul? It would make sense. Also, if this monster is ghouling their victims, it would explain how they're surviving being hung on hooks or disemboweled. "Where's your master? I intend to speak to him"
"My master is one with the shadows, a great servant of darkness, unseen, unknowable until he wishes to make himself known!" The ghoul exclaimed.
Great. Really helpful. Looking the fanatical servant in the eyes, I demanded that they, "Tell me where your master is."
Apparently, Dominate doesn't work that way, because while his eyes went blank and he obeyed, he did so literally, telling me, "Where your master is." He snapped out of the trance, and then looked at me with a mad amusement in his eyes. "Even if you could command me, I don't know. He's here, though, somewhere in this dark temple to death. He will show himself to you soon, no doubt!"
"Gerald?" Mazoline asked, approaching us. "Is that you? What happened to you?"
Apparently, Mazoline know this mad wretch. "Mazoline! Have you given up on your dreams of saving us, and come to accept the darkness of the world?"
Mazoline zipped over, staring down at Gerald in horror. "No! Gerald, we'd spoken about this – it's just your depression, your sense of hopelessness isn't real! You... you've been brainwashed, poisoned, addicted... you've got to snap out of it! Please, help me save these people – they don't deserve this!"
I could feel her Presence coming on strong, and for a moment Gerald reached out to her, his eyes wide with adoration – but then his face twisted into a cruel smirk. "Who says who deserves what? Countless innocents are slaughtered each day. What is there to hope for? Hope is a sad delusion, and all pain comes from it. To abandon hope, to accept the darkness – this is what ends all pain, and lets us live in this world of darkness, embracing its end! Accept the joy and liberation of oblivion! This is why these people are made to suffer – so they can be free of the suffering, and learn the joy of living in hell!"
I'd turned away from the conversation by this point, looking around for any sign of an Obfuscated enemy. I turned to the altar. He wouldn't be that obvious... It turns out, he was. There, right in the middle of the altar area, next to a pile of mutilated corpses, was a flickering aura. Barely visible, translucent, but not intermittent and pale like a ghost – this was the aura of an Obfuscated Kindred. I raised my gun – and the Kindred, realizing I'd seen them, appeared in a flash, their aura suddenly becoming solid as they did.
The plaguebearer was Nosferatu, alright – his body covered in sores and tears, open superating wounds covering a mass of muscles. His ears were huge, warped, and pointed, like some kind of dark elf, three open gashes over his bald head, his yellow eyes covered in matted blood that might have been part of his deformity, and might have been evidence of constant blood tears. I could see rows of sharp yellow fangs when he opened his mouth to speak in a gravelly yet wet voice.
"Found your way down here, did you? Following the smell of entrails and rotting flesh? Looking for a free meal, little bloodsucker? There's meat galore in my kingdom!"
Kill him! Strike while you can! As much as he terrified me, as much as my Beast urged me to strike, I wanted to try and get some information out of him. "Nah, I can find my own blood topside. What's your name?"
"Brother Kanker they call me... High lord in the diseased halls of the dead. Look around you! The blood, the bloated bodies, the maggot-ridden mortal shells... these are the signs, the coming of a new age!"
I didn't take my eyes off him, but I did try to take in the scenery. The blood splattered on the walls behind Kanker, the miserable writhing crucified form... this was not at all the signs of anything I wanted to see come into the world. The madman seemed like a real zealot, and reminded me uncomfortably of some of the preachers from religious revivals my parents had taken me to, full of zeal for a new age of god in the world, twisted into the dark form I knew lurked behind all such mad convictions.
Mazoline interjected, rushing up, screaming, "Why are you doing this? The homeless struggle enough – why are you targeting my flock, haven't they suffered enough?" Bloody tears were running down her face, and she seemed truly shocked and confused by this evil.
Turning to her, Kanker snarled like a beast before answering. "They are the weak, sick, hopeless. I bring them a new purpose. They are the vessels of darkness, carrying the diseased truth in their veins." He inhaled, wet and sick, seeming to take an almost sexual delight at his words.
Ooookay... so he's a completely mad true believer. Still, it's much the same as what Jezebel said – he's taking the discarded members of society and using them to spread this disease. But why? I inquired further. "To what end? You say you're a brother – brother of what? Who calls you Brother Kanker?"
His eyes went wide with fanatic devotion. "The Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle. The darkest dawn is almost upon us." Raising his arms, he proclaimed, "Come! Join us in these last nights, spreading out disease upon the Earth, sharing this unholy communion with our human herd!"
Great... so, an apocalyptic death cult. I think I'm not going to get anything else useful out of this fanatic – his mind is clearly broken, and there's only one thing to do with a monster like this – put him down. Still, Mazoline apparently wanted to understand his broken mind, and asked, "Why the hell would you try to spread death and destruction? Why destroy the world? Who put these awful ideas in your mind?"
Grinning and eyeing her like she was a tasty morsel, Kanker replied, "Our Bishop teaches us the way, but the darkness found me before I found him! The doors have been opened, the seals broken, the final steps into – and out of – the abyss are revealed! Can you not see? Above me, the terrible fallen angel of death, locked away in the darkness of the ninth circle of hell, now set free! Demons walk upon the world abandoned by God, and they, the creators of this broken world, this wreckage of paradise, preach the only gospel with any truth – the gospel of destruction, of the triumph of Oblivion!"
For a moment, I looked up, and saw the figure above him, truly saw it – pale, almost skeletal figure, wreathed in darkness, the air seeming to wrap around them and form a cloak of shadows, making the figure seem like a ferryman of myth. Indeed, their hands were skeletal, their eyes gone into deep pits, and they exuded an aura of loss and despair that threatened to kill all hope in any mortal heart.
But my heart was not mortal, and was already dead. I was no frightened human – I was one of the undead, someone who had already been to hell and back several times. And I was not just any member of the Kindred, but a Tremere, a scholar and mystic, a necromancer and blood mage. It's probably just some ghost, some twisted dark spectre attracted to all the torment and death and despair, spewing its madness at this mad Kindred. I'm not afraid. Hell, Paul, Hannah, and the Anarch's shadows will probably be cutting it down any minute now. Just like I'm going to cut down this monster. For once, my Beast agreed with my decision. Yes! Kill him! Show him our power!With a smirk, I declared, "I've heard enough. Maz, back away from us."
Apparently, Kanker couldn't help but lecture me once more. He declared, "Come, join the disciples who have gathered here, floating in their own putrescence! I will show you the mysteries of the Brotherhood, as I feed-" I didn't let him finish. Lashing out with Purge, I stopped his mad rant with bloody vomit. The only reason I let him rant as long as I did was because Mazoline took forever to get the hint and back away.
As Kanker doubled over in pain and nausea, losing blood and having his intestines rip apart, I calmly put away the useless gun, and pulled out a stake. It was a simple thing, to walk around him and shove the wooden stake into his back, right into his heart. Kanker's monstrous form collapsed, and I laughed over how easy it all was. Mazoline looked at me in surprise and admiration. I gave her a somewhat arrogant smile, flippantly shrugging. I then pulled out a syringe, and proceeded to collect some of Kanker's blood.
The syringe filled, I carefully removed the needle and wrapped it in cloth, to make sure it wouldn't break. Mazoline, apparently deciding the battle was over, had rushed back to her victims, trying to rescue them. I saw the human I'd shot trying to slowly crawl away, while the other one was still invisible, hiding behind the pillar. I pulled out my gun again and shot at the hiding figure, sending her sprawling to the ground as she became visible. "Okay, that's it, your master's done, so are you. But you can still live, if you give me some answers. Why don't you tell me about the Bishop, and where he's located?
They looked back at me with wide-eyed fanaticism. "Why would I want to live? There is no escaping death! Death is here, even as we speak!" It was then that I realized that they weren't staring at me, but past me. I turned to look – and what I saw chilled me to the bone.
The dark, translucent figure I'd seen in the world of the dead, the grim-reaper looking angel of death figure – they were now here, in the flesh. They were kneeling over Kanker, reaching for the stake, staring right at me and smiling. Suddenly terrified, I pointed my gun at them, even as I ran towards them, staring them in the eye, commanding them to, "Stop !" They only laughed in response, like my command meant nothing, their will both unshakable and so slippery I couldn't grasp it. I pulled the trigger, and they ignored the bullets like they were nothing. They pulled the stake out, and my heart dropped in dread.
As Kanker crawled to his feet, the dark, otherworldly figure shot at me at superhuman speed, knocking me back causing me to smash into a pillar. The blow was harsh, but I'd been through worse – while they'd moved fast, there wasn't too much force behind it. As they flew at me, and as I flew back from the impact, I unloaded my gun into them. I grunted in pain as I hit the pillar – and then I stabbed them repeatedly. Strangely, while they appeared to be a skeletal, spiritual form, I felt the knife sink into flesh – and like an illusion being dissipated, the deathly form seemed to dissipate, revealing a ragged human beneath it. They still looked skeletal – pale, gaunt, eyes sunken, barely any flesh over their bones – but I could see fear in their now-visible brown eyes, they were dressed in a black hoodie rather than wrapped in a cloak of shadow, and they stumbled back, bleeding and crying.
I raised my gun to shoot them – but a moment later, I had much more serious problem. While I was focused on this person who had appeared to be a deathly spirit only moments before, Kanker punched me with the force of a Mack truck. While the spirit had launched itself at me with incredible speed, it hadn't had this kind of raw power behind it – I felt my jaw break, felt my skull crack, my neck snap, even as my head was smashed about halfway though the pillar behind me.
I looked up, dazed, hoping I could recover or respond, but my head was ringing too hard to conjure any spells. Kanker was raising another fist, and I knew I was doomed – suddenly, gunshots rang out, even as a blur whipped by and knocked Kanker back. Mazoline had finally entered the fight, a handgun in one hand, a long knife, almost a short sword in the other. Kanker snarled and swiped futilely at the blur with his claws. I backed away behind the pillar and focused on healing my wounds with the blood, causing my hunger to grow, causing the Beast to rise up. Feed on them, drain them all dry! No, they're infected, we'd become sick! I moved back around the pillar, my head restored and cleared, spells already ready in my mind, gun pointed out, my knife held up in a defensive fighting position.
Right as I came around the pillar, I saw Mazoline's blur suddenly impacted by another dark blur – the pale spirit from earlier, now looking like a pale junkie, but still able to move superhumanly fast. He pinned Mazoline to the ground, laughing at her as she struggled under him, fear in her eyes as he screamed mad blasphemies about consuming her soul for power. Kanker screamed about eating her blood, flesh and soul. I said a single word to distract them all, "Sickening." They all turned towards me – right as I unleashed Purge.
Everyone around me started puking – Kanker, Mazoline, the pale junkie, even the two shot-up ghouls and the poor ghouled victims, including the crucified man. I laughed and kicked the former visage of death off Mazoline, even as I emptied the rest of my clip into him – only a few bullets left, but more than enough to kill any mortal, and hopefully enough to damage whatever this was. My gun now empty, I put it away even as I walked over to Kanker and started slashing viciously. I hacked at his face, his neck – anywhere sensitive. I might have been too effective in my attacks, because suddenly, even as he kept puking, Kanker looked up at me with mad rage, and jumped right at me, knocking me to the ground.
The monster hovered over me, even as he kept puking – he puked his blood right onto my face. Horrified, I tried to turn away and close my eyes and mouth – but even so, I could feel his vitae, going up my nose, where it smelled like death and rot, slipping in my lips, where it tasted a thousand times worse than rat blood, and yet filled me with a terrible pleasure, beyond almost anything I had ever known. I say almost, because only the drop of Therese's blood had been better, and that memory was what kept me from giving in to the pleasure and opening my mouth wide despite my hunger. Horrifying, sickening, and made all the worse by how much I enjoyed it and wanted it, even as it seemed like the most disgusting thing imaginable.
Then it got worse when the puking stopped – holding my hands down, rendering me helpless, Kanker leaned in and fed on me. I felt the pain of the bite – and then the narcotic pleasure of being fed on, the relaxing drug that made me want to give him all my blood. My Beast, however, rebelled, screaming, No! Don't let him take our blood! Stop him! Kill him! I struggled, but my arms were pinned, so I did the only thing I could – I kneed him in the balls, hard, over and over.
Kanker's eyes went wide, and he reared back and screamed at the night – it was all the opening I needed. I stabbed Kanker in the side of his head – then my Beast took over. We're starving! Feed now! My conscious mind didn't stand a chance, after all the damage and lost blood. I bit down on his neck to sate my thirst, my Beast, consequences be damned.
I felt the pleasure of feeding, but even more pronounced, greater than any mortal blood could ever supply. Again, the only comparable pleasure was the single drop of her blood Therese had once fed me. Twisted memories overwhelmed me, of his dark gibbering nights of gore, memories of the suffering of his victims, all wrapped together... The memories and the taste was tainted and disgusting, making me want to vomit it up as soon as I consumed it – only desperate, bestial need forced me to keep it down. Kanker didn't take it quietly. He grabbed at my face, forcing a pus-leaking thumb into my mouth, forcing my fangs off of his neck – only for me to bite down on his thumb, spewing vitae and pus into my mouth, which I sucked down greedily, even as I cut off his other fingers with my knife. Howling in rage, Kanker shoved the thumb of his other hand into my eye, grabbing my head and slamming it into the ground. It was a vicious, knock-down, bestial fight, with both of us frenzying.
His attack was stopped by Mazoline zipping by in a blur, slashing his neck with her long knife at superhuman speeds – once, twice, and then his head was off, rolling on the ground. A moment later, he was burning to ash on top of me, and my Beast screamed in fear as I grappled with my disintegrating foe. Mazoline looked haggard, like she was barely holding it together, but she still reached out a hand to help me.
I almost took it. But the Beast screamed, She's weak. We need blood. Feed on her! I tried so hard to resist – this was wrong, she was my ally, and I liked her, and this would fuck up everything. None of it mattered. In the end, the hunger conquers all, the Beast enslaves all Kindred. Like a monster, I bared my fangs at her extended hand and tried to bite the hand that helped me.
Thankfully, her reflexes were incredibly fast. She pulled her hand back instantaneously, then zipped over to the far wall in a flash. I screamed in impotent rage, clambering up, chasing after her blindly. Maozline pulled a lever that did something, I heard a loud noise behind me, but I only had eyes for Mazoline, snarling and chasing after her. She zipped by me in a flash as soon as the noise was done, and I turned to find out that there was a massive gate that had opened with the pulling of the lever. Mazoline bolted out and away. I howled in impotent rage.
Find a victim! Anyone! I looked around, fangs out, desperate hunger and bestial predation consuming me. The ghouls by the pillars were dead – between the bullets and literally puking out their guts, they hadn't been able to hold it together. The nearby victims on the hooks, the crucified man – all of them must have been barely holding to life, because Purge had taken them over the threshold of death. But, right before me, crawling on the ground, barely alive, was the pale junkie in a black hoodie, the sad mockery of the visage of death I'd seen earlier. I growled, licking my lips, and he turned around, now terrified. He tried to scramble to his feet – I was impressed he could even manage that, after all the damage he'd taken – but it was hopeless. I would consume him, consume every drop of his blood, consume his soul.
I leapt at him like a wolf upon a gazelle, knocking him to the ground, sinking my fangs into his neck. The blood was diseased and I didn't care – I was filled with the hunger, the need, and loved every satisfying taste. I saw this man's sad life – physically and sexually abused by various foster parents, tossed into the street at 18, escaping into drugs, making money through prostitution, arrested, raped by the police and fellow prisoners, becoming utterly hopeless, wasting away, he finally decided to intentionally overdose and end it all. And then... Something had found him in that moment. Something strange, ancient and inhuman had entered into him as he died, seizing him as a vessel. I couldn't understand it, its mind was vast and incomprehensible, and its name was a part of the fabric of reality, though it condensed down into Purah. I saw what it had done with his life afterwards – he had walked the streets, bringing death to those that needed it in his mind, feeding on the fear and faith he'd inspired. He then spoke to and bound the souls of those he'd killed, tormenting the living and the dead. He started a cult among the living and the dead, and went underground with it. It was he who had started the temple,. When Kanker had found them and come to feed, Purah had manifested terrible powers, and the two fought to standstill. Kanker, already mad and in pain, had been swayed by Purah's dark vision, and made a dark pact with him. Soon Purah heard the call of others of his kind, and brought Kanker with him to a terrible cult that was forming between these beings and mad Kindred, the Brotherhood of the Ninth Circle, created for the purpose of unraveling the world.
I fed and consumed all his memories, all his blood, my hunger insatiable, even as I felt something within the vessel writhe and scream. But my Beast had decided it would consume everything, and in my Frenzy I was powerless to stop it. I felt something get pulled into me with the final drops of blood. At first, all I could feel was the immense joy of consuming a soul, of draining a victim dry, the absolute satisfying ecstasy of finally doing what my instincts had always wanted.
As I dropped the corpse and came back to myself, however, I realized that there was a voice, a presence in my mind. "Argh! How dare you! You thought you could consume me, destroy me? I am vast, immortal, and I will make you my vessel!" Suddenly, I lurched, feeling this presence try to take me, control me, use me as a puppet. I fought back with all my willpower, screaming, jerking this way, then that, my Beast screaming in confusion, trying to grab control itself, and to the remaining victims watching, it must have seemed like I had gone mad, writhing wildly, fighting air.
"Argh! It seems you won't be so easy to possess. But... perhaps I can make an alliance with this monster, this Beast. You hunger, yes? I wish to know this dark pleasure. Let us feed on these worthless victims! Let us consume their souls! Let me feed on their faith and fear!"
Yes... more blood!
No, we don't need to kill them, we can free them... But my conscience and decency didn't stand a chance. Like a ravening monster, I moved to those victims I hadn't killed with Purge, lifting them off the hooks, pulling them down, only to consume their blood, their souls. When the victims had been bled, I ran from the dark temple, Purah laughing in my mind that this dark pleasure was glorious, that we would live to experience it again and again. As I fled, I found a the last victim, the one Mazoline had set free, scrambling to get over the barricade. Take them! "Take them!" No, we've had enough, we can't... But my stomach wasn't completely full, and the Beast was more powerful than ever, and so, snarling, ran after them. Seeing me, they screamed and scrambled forwards, but I was after them, my muscles burning with supernatural power, and I leapt on them on the other side of the barricade, sinking my fangs in, taking another innocent life. When they were dead, when my belly was finally full, I was able to wrestle back control of myself – barely. The hateful voice was still screaming at me in my head, that I would never truly be in control, that I was theirs now, that I was the new Plaguebearer, that I could never be a part of human or Kindred society now.
Looking down at the victim, feeling the filth in my blood and the writhing madness in my mind, I fell to my knees and screamed, before putting my hands to my face and crying bitter, bloody tears at my terrible fate.
