Chapter 17 = Moving Right Along
September 29, 2004 = Wednesday
After getting back to land, I headed downtown to the Last Round. The building itself was unimpressive. A two story bar with blacked out windows, even on the top floor. I paid the cabbie with the card, and left him, walking up to the unguarded door. The bottom floor had a few people milling about, and not seeing Nines I headed for the stairs to check there. I was about to put my foot on the first step when a redhead in a beatnik outfit stepped out of the store room.
"Sabbat chase you in here, Cammie?" she asked me.
It was her tone more than her words that stopped me. I'd never known beatniks to be violent, but if she were kindred, who knew what she could or would do. I stopped and looked her over, and then decided I was wrong. Though in the dark of the doorway she wore a beret, tight shirt and the Capri pants I'd associate with the lifestyle, there were differences. Her Capri pants were actually skinny jeans that had for some reason been ripped off below the knee. Her shirt was a military patterned camouflage one, and her beret was dark green, again army style. It screamed warrior, so I figured I better tread carefully.
"Why do you ask?" I said, taking my foot off the stair and facing her.
"Heard Nines saved your ass again," she said, leaning up against the door's frame. "You think Lacroix would've stopped counting his money long enough to get your back, jack?"
I mentally rolled my eyes. This must have been what Bertram meant when he said Brujah were troublemakers. "What's the fuck is your problem?"
"Oh, ho, ho," she said, getting a little animated as she straightened up and putting her arms in the air. "You want to know what my problem is? Alright, I'll tell you what my problem is. You ready? YOU are my goddamn problem. Anyone who would lay it down for some cape in an ivory tower deserves what they get."
"What alternative do I have?" I asked her. "Lacroix has me a short lease right now."
"You want an alternative? Being here, that's a step in the right direction," she said, calming down some but still looked as scrappy. "I'm Damsel. Den mother of these mothers and one pissed bitch since Lacroix rolled in."
"Trust me, if I could I would," I told her. "I'd rather be left alone."
"Hey, Cammy," she said, seeming deflate a whole three inches as her tone lost its edge. "I don't apologize often, but," she shook her head and leaned against the wall by the stairs, "It's just with all the shit's been going down lately, and to top of it this plaguebearer getting the CDC's attention…maybe I misjudged you's all I'm saying."
"It's understandable. So, what's a plaguebearer?" I asked Damsel.
"A fool that doesn't care who they feed from," she said and my eyes went up at the thought that I might have gotten sick and not known it. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. We can't get sick, but the kine can, and kindred that feed on them start spreading disease. Enough get sick, it's an epidemic. CDC's in town as we speak!"
"Kine? Normal people I suppose?" I said as I tried to process what she was saying. "So if we feed from them when they're sick, we can pass it on like a carrier?"
"Yeah, but it's only blood-borne diseases, like HIV, hepatitis, stuff like that," she said and I sighed in relief. "It may even be supernatural in origin. Don't know, don't care. But we gotta stop it before someone figures it out."
"Let me guess," I said as I figured it out. "The kindred becomes a carrier. So, how do you get rid of one?"
"Seen Old Yeller? May sound cruel, but it's necessary," she said and I nodded. "If someone puts together two and two as to the true cause of the outbreak of blood borne diseases, guess what happens? So the plaguebearer's got to be found and put down. If the Camarilla really gives a damn, they'll help us out."
"Well, the Anarchs helped me out before. Where do I start?" I asked and I swear she smiled a bit before steeling herself with that scowl that seemed etched into her face.
"One of our boys' ghouls, name's Paul, lives nearby in the Skyline Apartments. Apartment 5A. Been a stranger the past few nights. Looked like death last time he was here. Said he didn't get bit, but maybe you can get more info out of him."
"I'll go check on him," I said. "Night's still young, after all." I started up the stairs, intent on finding Nines. The upstairs had a good dozen small tables littered around it. Two people stood against the walls. One was Nines, the other was a rough looking man smoking a cigar. The look in his eyes was one of pure hatred, and he watched me like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse. I walked over to Nines, making sure to keep an eye on the other man.
"Yo, kid, you made it," Nines said, extending his hand in greeting. I took it, smiling at the older kindred, glad to finally meet someone who genuinely glad to see me for me.
"Glad to be here, Nines," I said then turned my head to watch the kindred in the corner and the hate he was sending my way. "What's with the stink eye in the corner?" Nines looked over his shoulder, then turned back to me.
"That's Jack," he said, chuckling a bit. "He's usually alright with newcomers, but he absolutely hates Lasombra. Think he had a run-in with one once in the Caribbean couple of centuries ago. But don't quote me on that."
"Nice to know we can make friends." I said, then dismissed him so I could concentrate on Nines.
"I figure you have a right to know the score," he said, getting to the heart of the matter. "The Camarilla? Here's the short of it. They operate a lot like a pyramid scheme. There's a bunch of these old timers at the top, with God only knows what plots in mind. But, if they lose their power, they die. So they Sired more to carry out their plans, and looking for a little power, those kindred sired for their own schemes and so on and on and on, it makes my head hurt just thinking about the mess. What it works out to is, only a few people at the top have any real power."
"Sounds like a pyramid scheme alright," I said, letting it sink in. "So what's Lacroix in this scheme?"
"Lacroix? Shit, he's just the man who wheeled and dealed to become king son of a bitch of the other local Camarilla. He's really just one step above the rest of us."
"Aren't you part of the Camarilla?" I asked and Nine face hardened fast.
"Them's fighting words newbie, but I know you don't mean anything bad with it so I won't make an example of ya," he said, smiling a bit to let me know he wasn't serious about the beat down. "See the Camarilla claims all Kindred as members even if we don't want to be, which is, of course, the biggest load of horsehit a man ever heard."
"So what about you?" I asked.
"I learned the way of this world during the depression," he said, and I settled in for a speech. What is it with old timers and speeches. "Bunch of old, rich bastards screwed the country. But did they suffer? No, the little people suffered. You can't trust the people at the top. The world'd be a better place without them.
"All you can do is get a group of people together who aren't assholes, find a place to put your feet up, and make examples of the quote-unquote elite to keep the rest the hell out. Everyone's an equal here, the same thing this country used to be about. That's what Los Angeles has been, an Anarch Free State."
"Anarch Free State?" I asked as I hadn't heard that term before either.
"The Camarilla was kicked out on their ass a long time ago," he said and I wondered why they hadn't kicked them out again. "We, the Anarchs, didn't want to play their politics anymore. Now Lacroix and crew pop in like they never left. Uh-Uh, no goddamn way! Their laws don't apply to us."
"Amen to that," I said, glad that there might be a group where I didn't have to fear losing my head. "I just want to go home to my friends, back to Samantha, but if I do..."
"Lacroix would call you in breach of the Masquerade, and kill you both," he finished for me. "See how they like to keep you down?"
"Thanks for laying it out for me, Nines," I said, genuinely glad for him laying it all out for me. "As long as the Prince doesn't make it too difficult, I'll help where I can," I said, extending my hand as I prepared to leave.
"Just remember, you get careless, that blood you got will make you into a monster. But you start rampaging you get put down. Two, don't kill when you feed, no reason to. In this city, there's lots of ways to slake the Beast without leaving a trail of dead.
"Three, the Camarilla is full of shit. Four, watch your back. And lastly, always be ready to fight, cuz a speech ain't gonna save your ass when you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun."
"I really do appreciate the help," I told him, sneaking one last look at Jack in the corner.
"LA's the school of hard knocks, so keep your friends close and your enemies in a barbecue pit. I got my eye on you kid," Nines told me, as I started for the door. I had things to take care of with a ghoul, and maybe find out about this plague that was supposed to be hitting LA.
I mused for awhile, as I hit the door to the street, and started for the corner and the phone booth. There, I learned where the Skyline Apartments were, by looking it up in the phone book and then finding the street in the maps on the front. Wasn't far from me, maybe six blocks. Figures that the ghoul wouldn't be far from his master.
I walked that way, keeping an eye out for a midnight snack. Since I was walking, it was far easier to see the men in HAZMAT suits as they looked for signs of contagions than it would be if I were in a car. I ducked down an alleyway, intent on keeping clear of them and their fancy equipment. I came out of the alley facing some sort of apartment building. There wasn't anything special about it at first, and I was about to dismiss it except for the eerie feeling I got from it. I looked it over again, then found one thing odd about it.
There was a purple glowing 'window' that was obviously supernatural in origin at the very peak of the building. That was odd in and of itself, but then I remembered a letter that I had gotten a few days ago. 'Come find me where burns the mystical sun.' That letter was from Strauss, and he wanted me to find him. Well, here he was.
I crossed the street, heading straight for the front door. Being an apartment building with no obvious lock out on the main door, I tried the knob to find it opened readily for me. Entering the building sent rivers of dread down my back, but I kept going. The main entryway was bare except for a staircase going up. It ended with a small landing and a door, so I figured that way was secure. The halls before me seemed open, but there wasn't anyone there to guide me.
I walked to a T-section, heading right. I didn't pass anyone, but after following the hallway for a bit, I found a small study area. I poked my head in, not seeing anything but a lone book on the coffee table. I picked it up and examined it. The binding was plain leather, with no name visible, but the first page listed it as 'Thaumaturgical Creatures.' Not knowing what that was, and with my curiosity getting the better of me, I slipped the book into my bag and left the study. I kept wandering the halls, eventually realizing that I was lost. I tried every door I came upon, but they were all locked.
I finally found a double set of red doors at a dead end. I tried the knob, and it turned freely. I opened the door on a larger study. A man in a red coat sat in a wingback chair that was also red. He was bald, and dressed in a nice suit with glasses perched on his nose. He set the book he was reading aside, then addressed me.
"Miss Flores, glad to see you've made your way here. I have been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time."
"Strauss, I presume?"
"Maximillian Strauss. I'm the Regent of this Chantry. Please, take a seat," he said. His voice was neutral, and he was very hard to read as I sat opposite him in an identical chair, placing my bag beside me.
"What is a chantry, exactly?"
"A chantry is a local gathering place for those of the Tremere clan. I live here, as do apprentices from time to time."
"And the regent is the leader of said chantry, I presume?" I asked him.
"You learn quickly," he said, a cold smile appearing on his stern face. "You would have made an excellent Tremere. A regent is also a teacher to the younger Tremere apprentices who are studying the mysteries of our clan."
I thought of the book I had stolen from the other study I had found. Mysteries, huh. "Can you tell me about the mysteries?"
"I'm sorry, neonate. The secrets of the Tremere clan are hidden from all but those who share our blood. You would do best not to look into them any further."
Bummer. "Well, what CAN you tell me?"
"Some advice, young one. Your survival in Kindred society will often depend on your ability to find out for yourself what is going on around you. Remember that well. As for what is going on in downtown LA, the word seems to be epidemic."
"That a kindred is spreading diseases through the kine?" I asked and his eyes shot up in surprise, finally breaking that perfect poker face of his.
"Again, you surprise me with how fast you learn," he said, relaxing his face back into it's neutral expression. "Yes, a kindred seems to be spreading a supernatural disease among the local kine at an alarming rate. Considering our particular," he said, pausing to choose his words carefully, "appetites, the local kindred are more than concerned about these developments."
"Interesting," I said, as I thought about it. A supernatural disease really only made sense on two fronts. Either the person was trying to kill all the humans through a disease which hasn't worked in the history of the world, or they were trying to oust the supernatural to the kine. The latter was more likely, but why?
"Yes, indeed," he continued. "My opinion is that the local anarchs are responsible for these outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgence of certain passions often lead to such things. Ergo, their need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla..."
I made my face as neutral as I could as I thought about it. The Anarchs thought the Camarilla was responsible, and vice versa. That didn't mean much, but it made it easier for a third and fourth option to come to mind. The Sabbat, or an independent party. "Maybe I could look into it for you," I said finally.
The Regent nodded his head in an agreeable manner. "An interesting proposition. If you succeed in finding the cause of this epidemic and putting an end to it, I will compensate you appropriately for your efforts."
I sighed, knowing the one thing I wanted more than money or favors. My frustration attracted the Regent's attention. "You wish something more?"
I nodded. "I never thought I'd miss it, but I wish I could see my reflection again."
"It might be possible," he said, as he studied me. "It might not work, but there should be something that can be done. I will research this, and if you are successful, we will attempt to restore your reflection as best we can. It might only be in a single mirror, but it should be possible."
"Then I shall see what I can do. I overheard the Anarchs discussing this same problem when I was at the Last Round earlier this evening. It seems there's a third party involved," I said, standing.
Strauss stayed seated, but he he gave a slight shake of his head, but I cut him off before he could say anything. "The Prince ordered me to pay a visit to the local Anarch population after meeting Nines on the street," I explained.
"What do you think of them?" he asked, again studying me.
"They seem to live up to their clan's reputation of rousing the rabble and are easily excitable," I said, thinking of Damsel the Den Mother. "Still, I've not seen enough of either ideas to form a clear idea of who might be right." I paused, as a thought came to me, and it made me frown. "History has shown before that there must be some sort of order to keep complete anarchy from taking control. Though they seem to eschew any leader besides Nines, and even he doesn't lead. He just does.
"On the other hand, the Camarilla currently seems to micromanage kindred's lives. I don't need someone telling me how to feed, or whom to feed from. I also don't need someone standing behind me ready to cut my head off at the slightest slip-up before I've had a chance to fix things. Again, as history shows, a too heavy handed leadership is just as bad as no leadership."
"You feel Lacroix is overly burdensome?" he asked, the question hanging between us.
"Yes, I do," I finally admitted. "I know you were probably at my trial, so you are aware of the circumstances of my new life, but how does one so callously kill? Even I'm not so low," I said, pausing myself before my temper ran away on me.
"Lacroix is a Ventrue, neonate, and prince on top of that. Even if he weren't as young and indiscriminate as he's already proven himself to be. I," he shook his head, looking down to avoid my gaze as he thought of something, or hid something from me. "But I say too much. Let us just that he and I have differing ideas on the use of power."
Trouble in paradise? "I don't suppose there is some sort of regulatory body that the prince has to answer to somewhere in the city?"
The Regent nodded. "They are called the Primogen, of which I am a member. There are currently seven in the city, one for each of the clans that comprise the Camarilla. Though at our last meeting, we briefly talked about adding an eighth, we have decided to table that for now."
That was surprising, and I quickly thought about who would be an eighth clan. "My clan, the Lasombra," I breathed as it hit me. I was the only new clan to enter the Camarilla recently, that I knew of anyway.
"Indeed. Our main concern is whether or not you have what it takes to survive. At the time of our meeting, you had only just survived your trial."
Of course, but now that I was proving myself capable who knew what would happen. Then he continued on, "At five in the morning, we intend to meet with him to discuss the current problems in the city. I would like for you to attend as well as we discuss adding you to the city's Primogen."
"It would be an honor," I said, as he stood as well. He was just a bit taller than me, but not stocky. I could see him being more bookish, as he had several studies that I'd seen so far. Maybe that was what the Tremere did, as he did just say that they study mysteries. I need more info on this clan.
"Than I shall see you at the tower, young one," he said, extending his hand to me. I took it, and we shook before I turned and headed for the door. Strauss stayed behind, and I left. Back in the maze that was the Chantry, I headed back out and promptly got lost again. Since I wasn't trying to get to anywhere but the front door, I didn't stop and try any doors but just kept to the hallways. Soon I was back at the front door, and left. The eerie feeling dissipated as I left, and feeling glad, headed down the sidewalk.
I couldn't help but think of Strauss' offer. To become a primogen seemed to be an important step into gaining some independence, even if that was all I gained, plus I would get the chance to meet the other primogen and maybe gain some useful contacts. I also couldn't help but think of what Strauss said about Lacroix. That he was too young and inexperienced to be prince. I couldn't help but wonder what he meant by that, though I knew it spoke volumes about the varying ways of leading. Maybe things under Strauss would be better than under Lacroix. One could hope.
I was almost to the apartments when I heard the loud techno music coming from a church. At least, it looked like a church on the outside. The gated fence read Confession. It was tempting to stop in, but I decided not to give in to my hunger. I had just fed hours before, and didn't need to feed again for a bit. Walking past, I found the apartment building and went in. The lobby was bare, though it did have an exercise room and pool, with an elevator at the front. I hit the button to call it down, and then went up to the fifth floor.
There was a short hallway that branched off into differing apartments, but 5A was just on my left. I tried the door, finding it locked and quickly used my lockpicks to get in. The lights were off, but my shadow vision kicked in, allowing me to see just fine. I was really starting to love that power, and I give the place a once over. The door was in the living room, with a couch facing an entertainment center beside the door. Behind that was a kitchen and dining room. Upstairs was probably the bedroom and bathroom. That's when I found Paul in the kitchen. Or at least I think it was Paul. It was a male corpse, in his early twenties, and there seemed to be nothing physically wrong, though as Damsel said, he looked like death with his pale skin. Almost kindred pale.
'Well, he's a dead end,' I thought, trying for a little snark to comfort myself with. I didn't have anything to go on, and knowing that the cops were bound to go over the place with a fine tooth comb, most likely, tried not to touch anything. The phone picked that moment to ring, startling me, and I fought the urge to answer it. Instead, the answering machine picked it up after four rings, and played the message as it recorded.
"Paul? It's Hannah, in 6D. Hope I didn't give you what I got. I feel like crap," she said, coughing wetly into the receiver. "I need to ask you a favor. Could you pick me up some cough medicine at the store," she asked, coughing into the phone again. "I hate to ask, but I can't seem to get out of bed. Passcode on my door is 1203.
"Hey, listen," she added, pausing again to cough, "I had a really good time the other night. Maybe we could do it again sometime? Sorry, I'm rambling. Okay, bye."
Well, that sounds like a place to go. I headed back out, leaving the door open a crack to invite someone in to find Paul, and took the elevator to the sixth floor. 6D had a steel door on it with a passcode lock instead of a traditional knob and key. I punched in the code, and it clicked open. The apartment here was like Paul's, but definitely felt warmer under a woman's touch. I went up to the darker second floor expecting the bed to be on the balcon. It wasn't, just an office with some potted plants, but the door to my right led to to a bedroom. I opened it, and my inverted vision kicked in and I saw Hannah laying on a queen sized bed, though she'd kicked the sheets off and lay in a tank top and loose shorts while her body was drenched in sweat.
"Paul?" she breathed, not really looking at me until I knelt beside her and put a hand tentatively to her forehead. She was burning hot, and I meant that literally. Her skin seemed to be on fire as I felt it and I yanked it back as quick as I would a burning stove.
"You're not Paul," she said weakly before breaking into another coughing fit. "Who are you?"
"I'm a doctor," I lied, pretending to look her over and take her pulse. "Your friend Paul called 911 and the CDC sent me out to check on him. He got your message and he sent me up to look at you."
"He did? That's so sweet," she said, turning her head to cough into her satin covered pillow. "He's such a nice guy. Is everything okay with him?"
"He could be doing better," I said, not really lying on that one. "You sound terrible, what have you got?"
"I don't really know," she said, barely able to turn her head away and cough again. "I-I've taken all kinds of medicine but nothing seems to help. I feel like I have a fever and a sore throat, and I feel real weak, can't seem to get out of bed."
"Sounds bad," I said, letting go of her wrist and her hand fell limply onto the bed. I hadn't heard of a case like this outside of advanced tuberculosis. Even then, Doc Holliday took years to advance this far while Hannah seems to have advanced here in a few weeks. "Do you know where you got it?"
"I think," she said, then started to throw up. I turned her body so she could clear her mouth of vomit, and then she continued. "One of my clients. I was feeling fine until, I uh, I saw her a few days ago," she said, coughing again.
I briefly thought about giving her my blood, but I couldn't help but think of Paul. He was a ghoul, and even he couldn't survive it. No, this was more likely engineered to take down a ghoul and kine alike and leave us kindred with no food source. Which made no sense. Who would want to take out our food source?
"Who was she," I asked, desperate to track her down. It didn't look like Hannah would last much longer, and I needed that answer before she died.
"She was just a woman who called. She, uh," she said, then puked again. It was hard to tell, but I was beginning to think it was blood. My inverted vision didn't do colors all that well, but it let me see the dark stain forming on the bed. "She found my ad in the newspaper. I usually only do business with referrals, you know, but she was offering a lot of money." I wiped her brow with a nearby cloth, hoping she hadn't just met the woman here. I needed to find her again.
"Did she give you a name?" I asked, wanting something to start with.
"Jezebel, Jezebel Locke," she said, her voice getting fainter, as if she were getting weaker, and not able to force the air out to make herself heard. "I'm usually not too good with names, but hers was so strange."
"Where did you meet her? Where is Jezebel Locke?" I demanded, knowing she was slipping away even as she talked to me. I needed that last piece of the puzzle.
"She had a room at the Empire Hotel," she said, coughing a few more times before turning her head to look at me. "Are you sure Paul's okay? He's not sick is he?"
I didn't have the heart to tell her Paul was dead. "Paul's just fine, Hannah. Don't worry about him."
"Good," she said, barely breathing the word out. "He's a nice guy. I hope he calls me again, sometime."
"I'm sure he will, Hannah," I said, holding her hand. I would have cried if I still could, as it broke my heart to listen to her fade away like that.
"I hope so," she breathed, her words barely audible in the still room. "I really do." I continued to hold her hand. My vampire senses, finely tuned to tell me about a victim's blood if I was near enough, picked up on her slowing heart. I couldn't help but think that she was someone's daughter, but that now, they'd never know what truly happened to their little girl.
We were monsters. We might pretty ourselves up, hide behind graces finely tuned over a hundred years and move with a grace no human could match, but we were supernatural predators who preyed on humanity. The fancy graces just made it easier to feed.
Hannah didn't deserve to die for our secrets. She was a sweet kid just trying to survive. Now someone had killed her because of us, and she deserved justice. As she began to spasm, I took the phone from where she had laid it on the nightstand and dialed 911, then laid it under her hand. I wanted her to be found before she began to rot in here. She didn't deserve this.
"911 emergency, what is your location?"
Leaning down, I breathed, "Help."
"Help is on the way, ma'am. Do you require medical assistance?"
Not wanting to implicate myself farther, I dropped the phone onto the floor hoping that whoever was on the other end took the hint. I walked silently out of the apartment, leaving the door open for whoever came. The shakes didn't set in until the elevator hit the ground floor. And it wasn't from crying.
No, I was mad. Jezebel Locke was a dead bitch walking.