Chapter 18 – Killing Jezebel Locke

September 29, 2004 = Wednesday

I entered Empire Arms, no longer shaking but focused solely on finding Jezebel Locke. Since I didn't know what room she had I went over to the front desk to the desk clerk in a suit and tie. "I'm here for Jezebel Locke. I assume she's here?"

"Yes," he drawled. "She's one of our more popular guests."

"I need a key to her room," I asked, giving the man an intense eye.

"I'm sorry. But our policy..." Then I cut him off by grabbing him by the tie and nearly pulling him over the counter.

"If you don't give me a key to her room now, I'm going to use your tie to hang you with!" I hissed, trying to be quiet in case anyone was around.

"One, one moment," he stammered, scrambling backwards. I let him go, watching him as he went to a machine to punch in a code. He came back with a card bearing the name and logo of Empire Arms Hotel. I'd heard of these cards before. They'd unlock any electronic lock they were meant to unlock. Not very secure, but that's what mechanical locks were meant for.

"If anyone comes asking," I threatened, as I took the card, "I wasn't here." He started nodding emphatically, finally stammering, "Room five-nine-three." I left him there, going over to the elevator and heading for the fifth floor. I headed right, down the hallway, searching for her room. It didn't take a few doors before I found her room, and used the card to go in, unannounced.

A lean, long limbed red head in a deep v-necked top and leather pants was stretched out on the couch, reading. She looked up, making the move sensual even though there was nothing sensual about it. She closed the book, every move and act somehow evoking the longing of a lover's touch without trying as she set it aside.

"Well, look who we have here," she said, sex dripping off her voice. "Are you a believer, little morsel? Have you come for the kind of enlightenment only Jezebel can give?"

"I take it you're Jezebel Locke?"

"Yes, I am Jezebel," she said, running a hand down her lean body as she lay on the couch, her fingers catching the edges of her shirt to reveal a touch more skin as they passed over. "And I have such things to show you, such beautiful, dirty little things. Won't you come into my parlor?" Her hand finally found it's way to the promised land, but thoughts of Hannah and her death reminded me of why I was here. I shook my head, snarling at the lapse as her Presence literally had me feeling her desires of love and lust.

"Yeah," I said, pulling myself together and shoving the lust out of my body, "and death's coming with me."

Jezebel got off her couch, pulling a large hunting knife from behind her. "Oh, you cannot escape me. One way or another, you and I will intertwine our beings on the way into the Ninth Circle, and I will send you forth, full of the sweet sickness I carry."

I yanked on the shadows, a tentacle forming at her feet. "For Hannah, you bitch!" I yelled, and the tentacle began to wrap around her leg, and then suddenly she wasn't there, but plunging her knife into my open stomach right in front of me. The sharp blade stinging my insides, and not in a good way. I then staggered a bit as she tried to wrench my insides apart, hitting the light switch. The lights went out, and I used my potence ability to throw Jezebel across the room as my vision switched over to shadows. Jezebel recovered, and she cast around trying to find where she was. I smiled, realization that I had the upper hand flooding me. I then began moving on my tiptoes, sneaking around to pounce her from behind. Jezebel began moving forward, trying to find her way to the light switch, moving right past me in the darkness.

I waited till I had moved directly behind her, then jumped on her back and wrapped an arm around her neck, my other arm struggling to keep her from bringing the knife to bear on me and make her stab herself. It didn't work as well as I intended, and Jezebel lost her footing as our combined weight broke one of her heels and sent us both tumbling on the floor. The jar of hitting the floor knocked me from her back, and she quickly pounced me. I managed to get both hands on the one that had the knife, but even my potence fueled strength in both arms barely kept her from stabbing me. Desperate, I called for the shadows, and felt them envelope us.

Maybe it was because of my sight, but I could still see Jezebel on top of me. Her features quickly twisted into horror and she began to pull away. Fearing the knife, I kept hold of her even as she began to scream. She flailed, trying to get away, even dropping the knife. Without the knife I let her go and snatched for it to find it missing. I rolled over, searching for it, but couldn't find it. Then I became conscious of the Void. My sight illuminated the inkiness around me, making it look somewhat like the bottom of a pool the way the darkness shimmered with pure blackness. I couldn't see anyone, but I knew there was something else in here, dark swirling wraiths and then I was back in the motel room, the knife beside. I snatched it, and began looking for Jezebel, finding her curled up in a corner, arms wrapped around herself. I waited for the attack that didn't come, and I realized she was scared and mumbling, "don't hurt me," over and over again.

I cautiously made my way up to her, and she didn't even react to me. Taking her big knife, I used my potence to lift the redhead and quickly buried the blade in her neck. She reacted by exploding, probably from pain, and with a wrench of the blade separated her head from her shoulders. She immediately incinerated, and crumpled into ash, the near burning material pouring over my hand to form a pool of ash on the floor. With her dead, I thought back on what I'd seen when my shadows had enveloped us. There was something in their all right, and it scared her. Now I was curious as to what was in there, and resolved to look again when I could.

With her death, I looked myself over. The blade wound to my stomach had bled a little, but wasn't all that noticeable. I went into the bathroom, and used a washcloth to wipe the blood off my wounded stomach. I also used the cloth to clean the ash off my leather pants and black leather shoes. I didn't want to leave until my wound cleared, so I began to rummage through Jezebel's clothes. Most of her clothes were actually my size, according to the tags, but I think they were smaller. Why can't they get just one size chart for all companies?

I did find a dress that I liked. It was a royal blue evening gown with crystal beads and sequins all over the bodice which crossed in the back, leaving it open for an off the shoulder halter top look. I really liked it, and laid it out on the bed. I had several hours before my meeting with the primogen at the prince's office, so I decided to change into something a little more appropriate. Might as well, not like pile of ash over there was going to need it. In fact, she wouldn't need anything in this room at all.

I looked around, finding her large travel case tucked under the bed. I pulled it out, and opened it. I then started to undress, putting all my clothes into the travel case. Once I was stripped, I slipped the dress on, the whole thing was chiffon, and felt great against my skin. I also found her shoe collection, which I'm guessing was just her travel edition. They were a half size large than me, and I pulled out and slipped on a set of three inch royal blues sequin pumps that were meant to compliment my dress. The dress now just barely skimmed the floor, which was a perfect height.

With the last addition to my personal wardrobe, I started to pull the various clothes from the closet and place them in the large travel case. I also stole the shoes, placing them in the case. I started to go through the rest of the room, and found her jewelry case hidden in the dresser. The jewelry was exquisite, and was probably real. I didn't know how to tell, never having seen any real diamonds in my life, but the way most of it sparkled made me think it was real. I slipped on a large diamond bracelet, and then put on a set of diamond stud earrings. I wondered if I should do anything with my hair, as it hung straight down my back. Deciding that there was nothing I could do without help, I packed up the jewelry box into my travel case.

I went over the room one more time, looking for anything I might need. I didn't really like stealing, but there was no sense in all this going to waste. Plus, with no body, people would just think Jezebel had left, leaving a few things behind as she fled furious wives or police authorities. Which wasn't far from the truth, not that they'd ever learn that.

My second run through the apartment turned up a small bundle of cash, probably what she used to pay the hookers and escorts with. Not that they'd be able to turn away from her presence ability, but they had to be paid eventually. I counted it out, just over four grand, and stashed it in my bag.

Feeling I had everything, I closed up the suitcase and set it on its wheels. I stopped to inspect the pile of ash that was Jezebel when I got to the door. There was nothing left of her, the ash looking like a pile of burnt coals. If I didn't know any better, I'd say someone cleaned out a hibachi grill and dumped it on the carpet. Well, you break the masquerade, you pay the price. Besides, I needed to tell Scourge Walsh about cleaning up his messes.

I opened the door, leaving the key I'd been given by the TV, and left. With anything I was holding blind to the cameras as long as I held on to it, I kept the travel case rolling behind me by the handle. No one paid me any attention, even as I left in the middle of the night, using my free hand to keep my skirt off the pavement. I walked straight back to the Last Round, to check in with Damsel about the plaguebearer.

I was almost back before a Hispanic man stepped out of the alley, making me sigh as he pointed a large caliber gun at me. There was a time that this might make me scared. Now it was just an inconvenience.

"Hey, chica," he said, smiling lasciviously at me. "Whatcha doin' with all that ice?"

"Going to a party to which you are not invited, swine," I growled back. I didn't want this nice dress ruined before my meeting.

"How about you slip into this alley, give me everything you got, and I let you walk away with a boatload of sailors?"

I groaned at his remark, but turned and walked into the alley, dragging my case behind me. I could feel my beast want to rip his throat out, and I was halfway to letting it out, but to do so would make me the monster. And I couldn't use any of my overt powers to get out of this, or the prince would still call me in breach of the masquerade, myself. With few options, I decided to draw on my presence, and give it a stretch. Once we were well within the alley and around the corner, he stopped me. "This is far enough. Now, strip it all off chica."

I turned, and forced a smile on my lips. Hoping I was doing this right, I began pushing feelings like lust towards him. He began to smile, the gun lowering a bit. I let go the case, and raised the hem of my skirt. The chico was almost close enough now for me to grab him, and I leaned over, the degrading move causing the guy to get right behind me. I let myself rise up, as he put his hands on my hips. He didn't even sense anything wrong as I got my mouth close enough to breathe on his ear. Remembering what Damsel said about not caring about whom you feed from, I wrapped an arm around his head.

He didn't know how screwed he was until I used my potence to flip him over my head from behind me. He hit the ground in front of me hard, knocking the air from him. I then used my heel to press into his neck.

"Listen idiota," I said, so aggravated with the jerk I was mixing my Spanish with English. "Drop the pistol and run for madre, or I put my talones through your neck. Comprende?"

"Comprendo," he breathed, dropping the pistol. I let him up, and he scrambled out of the alley. I reached down and picked up his pistol. I didn't know much about it, except that it wasn't anything like the .38 I already carried. This one was one of those little black self-reloading numbers cops used. I looked for the safety, and accidentally dropped the bullets out of the handle. I picked them up, stashing them in my bag, then pulled the top part back like i'd seen them do in movies to reload it, causing one more to fly out the top. With no other bullets in it, I pulled the trigger, and it went click.

Putting it all in my bag to have Brian explain later, I grabbed my travel case and headed back to the Last Round. The chico who'd tried to rob me was nowhere in sight, and I let out a sigh of relief. I wasn't afraid of dying, as having already done it once it no longer scared me. I was more afraid of what else he had planned. I didn't want my body violated by a man again, and it was making rethink my situation. I never viewed women as potential partners before, but I was starting to wonder. If I no longer liked guys, should I rethink my views on women?

Soon I was at the Last Round, and entered through the front door, taking my case with me. Damsel was seated at a corner table, head down as she looked at some kind of paperwork. She looked up, still scowling, but quickly waved me over.

"Cammy," she said when as I sat next to her. "Are you heading to a fashion expo or are you going on a date?"

"I have a meeting with the Prince and the primogen at five. Saw some things in the plaguebearer's motel room I liked, so I took them after cutting her head off."

"Righteous," she said, actually smiling. "So are you going to do your hair and makeup before you go? Or are you just going to rough it?"

I sighed, wishing I had a reflection. It would make my nights so much easier. "I guess I'll rough it. I can't see myself in a mirror to do it myself, so I figure to just do a rough braid before I meet everyone."

Damsel scowled, shaking her head. "Cammie," she started, then got up. "Just wait right here, alright? You're an embarrassment." She left out the back door, and I briefly wondered what she had that would help. She came back a moment later with a large box. She sat it in a chair and opened it up, revealing all sorts of makeup supplies. I didn't even get much of a chance to speak before she pulled out a hair pick. "Just sit your ass still, cammie. I'll make a decent woman out of ya."

"Why all the makeup?" I asked, sitting with my back and shoulders straight as Damsel picked the tangles out of my hair. She was a little rough, but then most stylists were with a customer.

"I carry it so I don't look like a schmo when I go see my sire," she said, tossing the pick back in the box. She pulled out a think black box, and sat it on the table in front of me and opened it up. As I figured, my reflection wasn't there in the boxes mirror, and Damsel looked at it. "Huh, you really don't have a reflection. I thought that was just a myth."

"No, it's a clan thing. Like Brujah seem to be rabble rousers and idealists."

"Yeah, well, I seen them do good things with their ideals, Cammie. Wait till you see Michele Riviere, the Toreador primogen. She always looks like she came off a runway." Damsel then began brushing out my hair, and I was left to ponder what she said about Riviere, and really just glad she was helping me to look my best. Then it hit me.

"Damsel, what clan are you?"

"Toreador, Cammie," she said flatly, placing the brush on the table. "How do you want your hair? As fancy as I can get? Or do you want it in a bun?"

Toreador? "What do you suggest?" I asked, trying to figure her out.

"I'd go with a full French braid, myself. It's classy, and would really work with your long hair. My sire would have loved you. He was always into pretty women. Fad of the month. That bastard ruined a lot of girls lives though, including mine."

"Where is he?" I asked, as she began to sort my hair into strands.

"Beverly Hills. Sometimes I go see him, to listen to him speak. He doesn't realize the art he can make with his words, but he'd flip if I showed up like this. So, I keep the kit handy and a dress in the backroom in case I just have to go scratch that itch."

"Cool," I said, as Damsel worked on my hair. She worked carefully, and I could tell by the tugs that she wasn't using large strands of hair to make my french braid with, but much smaller strands that would look extravagant. Damsel really wanted me to look good. Once she had the braid itself started, it didn't take her long to finish the braid. She tied it off with a rubber band, then started pulling out more makeup. She had me turn to face her, so could redo my makeup.

"So, who did your makeup for you. I know you can't see to do it yourself," Damsel asked me as she used some kind of wet rag to remove Constance's work.

"Um, a girl I picked up. She was a runaway and I'm giving her a place to stay if she'll do my makeup. I, uh, also drink her blood before I leave home."

"Oh, started your herd already. That's good," she said, as she started to apply the base. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you knew exactly what you were doing."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you got a herd started, already. That's important in this life. You can't just feed from anybody, otherwise you end up with a disease that you pass from victim to victim."

"True," I said, being careful to not move.

"Got any ghouls yet?"

"Four," I said, again being careful to only speak when she wasn't brushing makeup on my face.

"Wow, where'd you get them?" she asked, as she started to change out what she had on the table.

"Poe was my first. I found her dying in an emergency room from critical injuries. Brian, he was a thug I spared getting the astrolite to blow that warehouse. I use him for a bodyguard, so I don't get found and carried into the light during the day. Sharron is my third, she's a stripper at a lounge in Santa Monica. And Angel found me after Sharron stole all her customers demanding whatever I gave Sharron. Both Sharron and Angel are currently paying me, thinking my blood is just a drug you drink because I give it to them in vials. This next time though, I'll have them drink directly from me."

"How much you got?"

"Um, maybe eight grand?"

Damsel spun real fast to face me. "Eight grand? You're what? Five nights old? You sure you're not Ventrue?"

"Not unless Ventrue can summon and mold shadows. Something only Lasombra can do, or so I'm told."

Damsel regarded me with a sense of awe. "Cammie, you're racking up points here like no ones business. Do you have your own haven yet?"

"A home? No, not yet," I said, as Damsel began to apply nail polish. She had chosen a glimmering blue to compliment my dress and jewelry, and began to apply it. "Brian seems to be on the run from the law, and I've not taken direct control of Sharron and Angel, nor do I really intend to. Poe," I said, pausing. "I lost her when she was moved out of the emergency room and taken elsewhere. There's no telling where she is, and I don't really have the time to hunt her down."

"She'll turn back up Cammie," she said, moving to the other hand. "So, all the basics of living your own life, all on your own, with no one telling you what to do? Sounds like you've got this thing nailed."

"Just as soon as I can get the Prince off my back, I'm gone," I said, admiring the beautiful job Damsel had done.

"What are you going to do then?"

"I don't know. I just don't like these political games. Nines, I like him and if he needs me, I'll probably be there backing him up."

Damsel looked at me, as she finished my other hand. "Really? You're not in tight with Lacroix? Because that's what it looks like."

"If it wasn't for this boon, I wouldn't have went out to that ship where everyone was slaughtered."

Damsel just nodded, putting her makeup kit away. "So, what's your meeting with the primogen about?"

"Strauss wants to add me to the council so I can represent the Lasombra clan."

"Strauss? The Tremere mage? Cammie, you can't trust him. And don't ever drink any blood in their chantry! Ever!" She yelled, emphasizing her point.

"Why?"

"The Tremere practice blood magic. They call it thaumaturgy, but it can do some really messed up things to people," she said, placing the kit on the floor and sitting beside me. "I've seen them blow kindred up just by willing it."

"That's insane," I said, horrified at how powerful they were.

"Word is, they drink the blood of some elder council. It binds them all to one cause, and they don't have any problems tricking other kindred into serving them."

"What else should I know before I meet the primogen?"

"Let me give you a rundown of some of the clans you'll meet. Brujah, yeah, they get a bad rap for fighting. But it's not all unearned. They do fight for their ideals. Mostly they want freedom, to build a utopia, but they've never agreed on it. Ask some of the guys what they think it is, you'll never get them to agree. Useful if you need to distract them.

"Toreadors. We're artists, but like utopia for Brujah, we can't agree on what's art. My sire thinks it's beautiful women. I prefer a good speech. Some like Riviere, she prefers paintings. If you ever see one staring at something, block their view. It'll pull them out of their reverie, or you can distract them with it."

"Interesting," I said.

"Also, you can usually spot the ones that interested in beauty, because they tend to get touchy-feely. Literally. My sire can get roaming hands bad if he's interested.

"Gangrel. They don't tend to like city life much, but the ones that do, treat it like a concrete jungle. They are hunters, and they can command the beast within you if they are strong enough.

"Malkavians are nuts. They have this inner voice, and it can be eerily accurate about the future, the past and the present. That's IF you can figure out what they're talking about."

"I met one in Santa Monica. Therese and Jeannette? They are one person, but they think they're separate people."

"Crazy, Cammie. After them you got the Nosferatu. They're the information brokers. If you really need to know something, you go to them. They can be horrible looking, but they know what they're doing.

"The Tremere are one of the creepiest groups I've ever met. Don't ever trust one, ever. The things they can do with blood are legend. And finally there are the Ventrue. They are money, Cammie, and power. They love to make others twist to their will, and they have the ability to make you do what they say. Again, literally."

"So what about us? What are our weaknesses?"

"Sunlight. Every sunrise you will sleep. You can sometimes stay up an hour or so past sunrise but you will still pass out. You can't beat it. In time, you will start waking up before sunset. So be careful. Okay?"

"Alright," I said, wondering if my nails were dry.

"So, your body. Well, kiss dandruff goodbye, thank god. You can still get lice though, as it's a bug. You can't get sick, but you can carry diseases. Oh, and crosses are mostly harmless. Mostly. Heard tale of one kindred who met a hunter with real faith. The cross he carried kept her from being able to attack him, and eventually he forced her into a corner. Unable to flee, or attack, he pushed forward. Eventually, his faith alone destroyed her.

"Most of the other stuff, garlic, running water, body odor," she paused, sighing, "none of that affects us. Your senses are getting sharper. In another week or so, you'll be able to start smelling things at a distance, see better than you ever could, and hear a lot better.

"You've probably already noticed the differences in blood. Don't ask me why, but the better cultured a person is, the more class they have, the better their blood tastes. A bum or a hooker will taste bland, while biting into a doctor is like pure nectar."

"And one well on their way to become a doctor is like honey?"

"Yeah, I guess. Never bit a student so I wouldn't know."

"Hmm." Wow, Constance really needed to stay in school then. I finally worked up the courage to test my nail polish and found it was nice and dry.

"Hey, if you want, you can leave your baggage here, I'll watch it till you get back," Damsel said.

I looked at the wall clock. It was close to four, and figured that by the time I caught a taxi to the tower, it'd be about time. "Sure, I'll swing by after the meeting and get everything before I head home," I said, carefully swinging my messenger bag onto my shoulder.

"I'll be waiting," she said, as I walked to the door, once again keeping my skirt from touching the floor as I headed for the door. I turned and waved to Damsel as I walked out the door, and she smiled and waved back. I had a friend, someone I could count on to help me understand things that were beyond me. That was important to me. Now why did I have this sudden desire to see her all dressed up?

Author's Note: Big thanks to Noone297 on FanFiction for the idea on making Damsel a Toreador. It was his idea, and I just had the idea on how to run with it. So if you don't like it, don't blame it all on me.