Author's note: I've been told that my fear's about the intensity of the last few chapters has been unwarranted. I say only this: Prepare your soul for the horror within.
Chapter 46 – Avenging Demon
October 6, 2004 = Wednesday
~Eliza Flores~
I stopped the cab and sent him on back on his way short of the blue lights. Walking up to the end of the car, I found two people standing there, one of them a familiar sight. Seeing Jean eased my tension, and I walked towards the pair.
"It's not a safe place to be," the guy called when I got close.
"Not for them," I told the guy. "Jean, move aside. This is personal."
"Sweetie," she said, and I pulled my katana to let them know my seriousness.
"A club ain't worth your undead ass," the guy said, pushing his trenchcoat back to show his gun.
"Sweetie," Jean said, trying to comfort me. "We'll route them out eventually. I got a guy coming in who can change into something their guns won't hurt and lead the charge."
"They killed Constance, Jean," I told her and she gasped. "The blood doll you comforted in my bed was dumped on the freeway. They have Brian, and Heather, and they ripped their eyes and tongue out as proof. They also have more of my ghouls," I told her, my anger rising as I listed off what they'd done making me speak through almost gritted teeth, "and then they tried to kill me. Now step out of my way or I'll have to cut through you."
Jean stepped aside, pulling the other guy with her and I walked by into the shadow filled road. The warehouse was easy to spot, it's sides lit with bright lights to illuminate the bare area around it. It made it an island of light in a sea of darkness, and I stopped at the edge of the light. Pushing my senses into the shadow by the light, I followed it to the roof to see a group of men carrying large rifles, all posted around the edge.
I watched them, studying each man, finally deciding on which one I'd kill first. He was the largest, and carried a weapon that had a box slung under the rifle to carry a belt of ammo that fed into the side of the gun. Shrugging out of my coat for better access to my guns, I stepped behind the guy, dropping my coat as I used potence to lend strength to my one handed slash so I could decapitate him.
He fell forward, his blood spewing over the side as he fell on his knees. I grabbed the gun's handle as I turned, activating my celerity as I dashed for the nearest man. He barely even turned to face me before my slashed low, cutting the guy in half at the waist. The others on the roof noticed the commotion, but I was already moving.
The guys let loose with their guns, their bullets moving too fast for me to dodge, though they had yet to hit me as their bullets churned at the roof between us as they brought their guns to bear. I made a chakram from the shadows, and threw it along a line of bullets, cutting one guys neck as I plunged the tip of my sword into another. I threw the sword with the guy still on it into the line of fire as the bullets got close, using him as a human shield as I readied the rifle in my hands.
Rifle ready, I squeezed the trigger and let loose a stream of bullets of my own, expecting the rifle to go empty in a few seconds. The gun chattered for the better part of fifteen, allowing me to clear the roof of thugs, either as they fell to my bullets, my aim enhanced by my own celerity and potence, or they decided jumping was the lesser evil.
Roof clear, I slung the empty rifle as I liked it for its rate of constant fire. Maybe if I could get some kind of phosphorous round for it, it would be a great kindred killer, or more accurate, a room full of kindred killer considering it lasted fifteen seconds allowing me to spray an entire room. Wrenching my sword from a still living thug, I slashed his throat before moving back to get my coat.
With my coat tied to my messenger bag, I moved on, my sword in my right hand and a shadow-made chakram in my left. I went to the door leading down, and kicked it in, finding a couple of thugs headed up the stairs. I charged forward, plunging my sword straight through two men then used my potence to throw them over the side. I then hurried down the rest of the stairs in an attempt to get off the elevated platform so I wasn't so visible.
Hunching down beside the stairs and a still open exterior door, I took in the dark warehouse. It was mostly empty, save for large amounts of dirt piled in almost to the windows. Some areas were made flat under the working lights with crudely made stairs climbing their way up. I went up the closest set, finding it was a camping site for the still living since the glass here would let in sunlight and there was no way to keep from getting fried during the day.
I moved on, climbing into the rafters as I topped the pile of dirt, then crouching low when more men came out of a hole in the concrete. "Tony? Ricky?" a man called, looking to the roof as if it were going to come alive. His gun was ready to fire, already shouldered but the barrel was facing down. I fingered the dirt, noting it was loose and my weight was making me sink into it as it packed in. There was no way I could run down the dirt, not in high heels, and I was running too low on blood to keep jumping around.
I watched with hungry eyes as a thin leather clad kindred male climbed his way out of the hole, another rifle similar to the one I carried on my back in his hands. The four began to move slowly down the center, their rifles ready to fire as they looked everywhere. Putting my katana back it its scabbard, I pulled my Kalashnikov from my messenger bag, pulling the stock out straight from its compact mode. Shouldering the weapon, safety off, I lined up on the three men. When they had their back on me, I fired, the burst of automatic fire killing all three with ease. The lone kindred staggered as my bullets raked through him, but he turned with hate filled eyes to the dark rafters, then raised his barrel.
I stepped then, letting the man waste his ammo as I dropped my Kalashnikov into the soft dirt. He didn't waste it all, as the belt still fed bullets into the side, and I crept up behind him. Worry filled me at what I was about to do, but when I was within easy reach, I grabbed his hair with my left hand and yanked his head over, using my stronger right to grab his gun and keep it pointed away as I sank my teeth deep into his neck.
He tried to buck me off, but I had a good bite on him and began to drain him. He went crazy, but soon, he weakened as his blood thinned and no longer seemed capable of breaking free. I quit sucking when he collapsed in my arms, then dropped the kindred forward to lie on the ground. I felt better after taking his blood, and knowing that he wouldn't get up without an infusion, left him there.
Grabbing my Kalashnikov, and reloading it with a fresh clip, I headed for the hole and dropped in. The next level down was a hallway lined with oubliettes lit with oil lamps, a box of said oil near the first lamp in the hallway. I walked on, finding the first room contained a nude Brian. I went to my ghoul, who thrashed when I got closer and began releasing him. He was covered in bruises, small cuts, burn marks, and had the general look of being tortured.
"Brian," I told him, grabbing his hand and holding it still. "It's me, Eliza," I said, and he calmed down. He tried to say something, but without his tongue couldn't understand him. "I'm sorry, Brian," I said, undoing his other wrist.
His hand now free, he immediately hugged me to him, his left briefly feeling up my ass before moving north to my Glock. He jerked it free, and he gave me a smile as he held the weapon, his right hand cupping my face. I gave him a smile he could feel, when he suddenly dropped his hand, dipping into my cleavage to grab a tit. I was about to slug him when his other hand moved the gun to his temple, as if giving me a salute, then the bang of the Glock ripped through his head.
I was too in shock by the actions of my ghoul to do anything. Finally, I removed his hand from my cleavage, and pulled my Glock from his now dead hands and put it back in my holster. I felt bad for him, but looking at him, knew he chose this so he wouldn't burden me. His eyes were gone, his tongue ripped out, and he was useless as a bodyguard. He did the only thing he could to ease my burden; he killed himself.
Leaving my dead ghoul behind, I kept searching the rooms, finding more people in the same state as Brian. All were nude, lacked their eyes and tongue, and thrashed when they sensed my presence as if they were trying to free themselves before they could be tortured again. The first woman I found had more evidence of torture in the form of white streaks across her face, breast and stomach, but I let her be. Heather, Angel and Sharron had to be here somewhere, and I finally found Heather in the last room before a thick heavy steel door.
"Heather," I said, letting her know I was here before she began to thrash. She babbled something, and I put a reassuring hand on her cheek. "Easy, Heather. I'm here," I said, as tears leaked out of her eyes.
I looked her over as I began to release her. She had the same white streaks all over her, plus the cuts, bruises and burn marks. Once I had her free, she cuddled up to me, babbling away though I couldn't understand. I ran a hand through her hair, holding her close as I snuggled closer to her. She, like Brian, was ruined as a ghoul now, and giving her forehead a kiss, began to sing to her.
"Hush little baby, don't say a word," I sang, holding Heather close as she sobbed on my shoulder on the bloodstained bed. "Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird."
I ran my hand through her hair again, feeling her sobbing decrease as I sang the Mother Goose song to her. "And if that mockingbird won't sing, Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring."
I hated what I was about to do, but I figured it was more merciful than making her live a life as a burden to others, constantly living a life without sight or speaking without understanding.
"And if that diamond ring turns to brass," I sang, my right hand going behind my back to unsnap my Glock. I shifted my weight so the snap was covered by the bed's creaking as I continued to sing, "Mama's going to buy you a looking glass."
Sliding my Glock out carefully, I continued on as Heather hugged me, her sobs easing away. "And if that glass gets broke, Mama's going to buy you a billy goat."
Heather was quiet now, her small body still occasionally shaking with sobs.
"And if that billy goat won't pull, Mama's gonna buy you a cart and bull."
I eased the gun up, Heather's small body calming down as she find her comfort in my presence. I activated my vampire ability, letting soothing feelings spill over her, which quieted her down more.
"And if that cart and bull turn over, Mama's gonna buy you a dog named rover."
She seemed to smile at that, and I briefly paused my bringing of the gun closer to her head. Did I really want to kill her?
"And if that dog named Rover won't bark," I sang, seeing her face calm from the personal hell she'd been through. "Mama's gonna buy you a horse and cart."
Steeling myself, I began squeezing my finger on the trigger. This was more merciful to her. I should never have stolen her death from her that night in the clinic. She could have gone somewhat peaceably then, not live in my hell.
"And if that horse and cart fall," BHAM! The gun's report ripped into Heather's head just under her jaw, so sudden and unexpected she only flinched once before her body relaxed in death.
"You'll still be the sweetest baby in town," I finished, kissing her forehead.
I got up from the bed, then arranged her body with her arms over her chest. It didn't seem right to leave her like that, so I pulled my coat from where I had it tied on my messenger bag and draped it over her, covering her head. I was about to leave the room, when I looked back to Heather's body. Dropping my messenger bag to the dirt floor, I undid my belt and pulled my Glock and it's holster from my back, putting both in my bag along with the Kalashnikov.
Slinging my messenger bag on my shoulder, I removed the shotgun from it's sling and held it in my hands. Turning to the door and the hard rock I could barely hear, I kicked it in, finding it a large room the size of my great room in my now burned down mansion. Crude bookcases stood on one side, a ruined chair beside it. I couldn't see the person in it, but their light brown hair indicated Celeste.
A small bit of movement on top of one of the bookcases caught my eye, and I saw her familiar as it tended to an oil lamp providing light for the killer kindred. I looked around the room, my anger growing as I spotted two graves along the far wall. One said Sharron Carter, the other Meredith Coates.
"George, either spit out what the Cammies are doing or fix my fucking door," Celeste called, never turning around though the radio turned itself down when she spoke and remained there, as if awaiting a response.
"If George was the kindred I killed," I said, making Celeste jump out of the chair to spin around and face me, "He won't be joining us."
"How the fuck did you get out when that bomb exploded?" she demanded, blood pooling in her hands.
"You underestimate my shadow abilities," I told her, aiming my shotgun at her head. "I've had the ability to shadow-step for a week now."
"Damn that Tung," Celeste spat. "Fool could at least get us good info."
"Where is Samantha?" I demanded of her.
"Don't know, don't care," she said flippantly while smiling. "Buried your other bitches alive after getting back from what I thought was your funeral pyre. Maybe they're still alive, maybe not."
I didn't let her say another word as I squeezed the trigger, my shot going just over her head as she dove for the chair. I racked the shotgun, and Celeste threw a blood blob over the top of the chair. I jumped from the landing by the door, rolling in the dirt to face Celeste. She seemed somewhat surprised by my move, and I lined up the shotgun on her face.
I saw the blood pool in her hand as I lined up the shot, then cover her in a red shimmer just as my gun bucked on my shoulder. The blast still caught her full in the face, knocking her back, but Celeste didn't seem the least bit phased by it. She scrambled to her feet, as I reracked the shotgun and fired again, this blast catching her in her middle and knocking her into the bookcase, causing it fall.
I reracked the shotgun, noting that Celeste's little fairy had righted the lantern and that none of the books were burning before drilling the little bitch again. Her small petite frame couldn't stand up to the shotgun's blast, so she was knocked into the wall again. That red shimmer over her seemed to soak the damage, if not the force, of each blast, so I kept re-racking the shotgun and blasting the Tremere until with the last shell, the protective shell shattered around her.
With a snarl, she threw a small wad of blood at me, the marble sized amount moving as fast as a paintball. It hit me in my bare stomach, merging briefly into my skin before returning to Celeste's hand the size of a baseball. The pull of blood told me what she had done, and I dropped the shotgun as she merged the blood into her hand.
"Ooh," she said, shivering as she seemed to 'taste' my blood. "What neck have you latched on to?"
"Lucian's," I said, forming a katana and chakram.
The information shocked her, and she began to circle me, moving away from her books. I kept my eyes on her, watching as she began to pool the blood in her hand. I threw the chakram, aiming low to keep her from winding up her throw and hitting her ankle. The blood hit the floor between us, as Celeste struggled to stay upright on her bad leg, and I charged in.
Celeste knew she was in a bad position, backpedaling away and bringing her hands up to block my attack. While it was tempting to use potence to cut through her hand and end the fight quickly, I wanted the bitch to hurt. Letting her hands 'catch' my blade, I sliced them to the bone by yanking the katana back. Celeste screamed, falling backwards and trying to stem the blood by pressing her hands to her shirt.
"How does it feel, bitch?" I taunted her, then stepped in again. Celeste turned over and tried to get to her feet, but I ran my blade down her back leaving her screaming in pain.
"Please, stop!" she cried, trying to crawl away. "Your ghoul, Sharron, might still be alive!"
"So, Meredith is dead?" I said, seeing my vision yellow as my beast tried to assert control. I pushed it back, then to make sure I didn't lose the fight because my beast took control, stepped forward for a Happy Gilmore golf swing with the katana, using Celeste's neck for a golf ball.
My sword connected just as Celeste screamed, cutting her scream off as she turned to ash. The yellow in my vision faded, and I turned back to her familiar.
"No," it breathed, moving forward slowly to the ash pile that was its master. I turned to it, waited till the little thing got closer, then stabbed my sword directly into it. The moment the katana hit the familiar, she dissolved into blood and splattered the ground.
Taking a look around, I found a shovel and began to immediately dig up Sharron's grave. If she were alive, or had a chance to be, I wanted to try and save her. I didn't know how long a person could survive in a coffin, but I'd heard it was like a day once. If that were the case, she'd be scared witless, but alive.
It didn't take a few feet to get to the coffin, and I dug a hole down one side to get my hand under it. Using my potence, I lifted the coffin out, straining a bit to get it out. I worried when no sound came from inside, and slammed a potence fueled fist into the side then wrenched the top off.
Sharron was inside, but she was already dead and her body stank of apples and smoke. I looked inside, seeing a scented candle in a glass bottle taped by her feet. I put the pieces together, my heart sinking. Not content to let the woman suffocate normally, Celeste had placed a lit candle to suck out the oxygen. Checking the lid, I saw where Sharron had tried to claw her way out, her fingernails scratching gouge marks in the wood as she struggled to escape.
Leaving her in the coffin, I started to dig up the second grave when I heard Jean call out, "Eliza?!"
"End of the hall!" I called back. I was able to watch the entrance from where I was digging, seeing Jean enter through the door, her big fourty-four magnum leading the way. She saw me and lowered the gun, holstering it under her arm.
"What's with the coffin?" she said, coming down to the bottom of the pit.
"That's Sharron," I said, plunging the shovel back into the fresh churned earth. "This is my other ghoul that was kidnapped."
"What about the others?" she asked me. "Brian and Heather?"
"Dead," I said, continuing to dig. Jean knelt beside the hole, ear almost to the ground, then looked to me.
"Someone's alive in there," she told me.
"Meredith," I said, digging as fast as I could. Soon I had the hole deep enough to hear her myself, and she was calling for help.
"Meredith!" I yelled, digging the hole beside her so I could leverage the coffin out like I had Sharron's. Jean suddenly blocked the hole, then I watched as her hand transformed into talons and she ripped a hole into the coffin lid, letting fresh air in for her to breathe.
"Help me!" Meredith cried as I knelt by the hole, using my own strength to rip the lid off, setting her free.
Meredith scrambled out with the lid, a little dusty but looking alright in her tight, green camisole top and black leather mini. Her nylons were ripped in places, but it only served to highlight her tanless, creamy skin. Looking into her eyes as she turned to face Jean and I, I saw the yellow rimming her eyes.
"I thought you said she was your ghoul?" Jean said, then began humming a tune.
"She was," I told her, closing my eyes.
"What happened? Why was I in that coffin? Last thing I remember was me and Amber were entering your house and there were men with barrels and they were spraying black paint on your windows and then I think I passed out!"
"Meredith, calm down," I told her, hoping I still had a measure of control over her.
"Hush, little children," Jean started to sing, her song calming and light. It had an immediate effect on Meredith, whose eyes quickly lost their yellow. Jean advanced on her, wrapping her arms around the former ghoul and new kindred. But what kind of kindred?
"That's better, isn't it?" Jean asked her, after finishing a chorus of the song.
"I feel calm now," she said, looking at both of us. "Hungry, but calm. Miss Flores, what happened?"
"Celeste, the kindred who lived here, used my blood connection to you to call you home," I told her and she nodded her understanding. "She likely dominated you, and then she turned you."
"Turned?" she said, as Jean fished something from her jacket. "Turned me into what?"
"One of us," Jean said, pulling a blood pack from her jacket. "This will make you feel better," she said, turning a finger into a talon and slicing a corner off.
"Is it blood?" she asked sheepishly, and we nodded. I could smell the iron laced brew from ten feet away.
"Just drink it," Jean said, putting the bag in Meredith's hands. "Suck on it like a juice pouch."
Meredith did as she was told, drinking the entire bag in one go. When she was done, she pulled the bag from her mouth and her eyes fluttered a bit from the high of her first blood, which considering Jean's source was probably an overpriced neurosurgeon from New York City.
Meredith worked her mouth a bit, swallowing one last time as she lowered the blood bag and looked to us. "Type A positive, forty nine years old, lawyer, salt and pepper hair," she said, looking at the blood bag. "How did I know that?"
Jean looked to me, and shook her head. "That would be because you're Tremere," she told her. "You're kind of kindred know how to do things with blood."
"My kind of kindred?" she asked, and I moved closer.
"They're called Tremere," I told her. "All of the ones I know hole themselves up in a building and study their magic books."
"Study for what?" she asked, her tone somewhat sarcastic. "Is there some sort of big cosmic test they want to pass."
"They've never said," I told her. "They're secretive, and don't talk to outsiders. In fact, they'll probably want these books, too, to keep their secrets intact."
"They consider us Gangrel to be 'special forces,' but I've never seen a more military like force than the Tremere," she said, a wan smile on her face. "Their chain-of-command is strict, and everything is routed through their Regent, which is like an officer to them."
"You make it sound like I shouldn't go," Meredith said, sounding unsure.
"They'd take care of you, teach you how to use your abilities," I told her. "They can do miraculous things with blood. Things we don't even know exist."
"I guess," she said, still sounding unsure. "I can leave if I want though, right?"
"I'm sure you can," Jean told her, then looked around the room. "Why don't you help us get these books all packed up in my Toyota outside, and then we can get out of here. We got people coming soon to clean this area."
We fell to collecting the books, and after Meredith left with her arms full, Jean held me back. "You know she's due for Trial, right?"
"She's not a Sabbat!" I argued with her.
"She's still not recognized by the prince," Jean hissed. "My orders are to bring any kindred not under the prince's protection back for Trial. That means her, too."
"How about we go see the prince when we leave," I said, trying to find some middle ground. "We take care of this before we have to get all the kindred in town together for a Trial where I argue for the same thing anyway."
"Argue for the same thing I did for you?" Jean asked, and I nodded.
"She's not broken any of the traditions, was embraced against her will, and this time, brought before him with someone who is willing to take responsibility for her actions," I said, arguing the points. "If I have to, I'll owe the prince another boon but I won't let you stake her just to scare her more!"
"I agree," she said, her wan smile returning. "She doesn't deserve it."
"So let's get this packed up, see the prince, and maybe Strauss will accept her into his chantry," I said, picking up a large stack.
Jean nodded, and we began to carry the books outside, stacking them all in the back seat of her Toyota. With the last load in the truck and after Meredith cleaned herself up with some wipes Jean carried, we all piled in and left, my new rifle and shotgun in the backseat with the books. Jean drove us straight to the tower while I went over the basics with my former ghoul, parking the pickup in a special access garage I didn't know existed and we rode the elevator up to the lobby of the Camarilla headquarters. When we stepped out to crossover to the private elevator, Walsh was waiting for us.
"Deputy Baker, Miss Flores," he said in greeting, and we stopped to talk to him. "Who's your friend?"
Meredith Coates," she said, extending her hand.
"She was the only ghoul I recovered from Celeste," I told him. "You can also close the case on her, she's ash now, and the standoff at the warehouse has been decided in the Camarilla's favor."
"Truly?" he said, looking to Jean, who nodded and smiled.
"We rounded up sixteen punks who tried to escape, and Pedro and Victor have two more Sabbat staked for Trial, one of them dropped by Eliza."
"You have done well," he said, smiling at me. "What about Miss Coates?"
"She needs to meet the prince for validation," I told him, and he gave me curious look. "She was turned into a Tremere by Celeste Evans."
"Ah," he said, gesturing for us to cross to the private elevator. "I'll escort you."
Feeling a bit conspicuous, I followed the group into the elevator and we went up to see the prince. Walsh led the way, with Meredith and Jean directly behind him and straight through the doors that led to the prince's office. He was sitting to his desk, looking at several sheets of paper, when he noticed us, and his facial tone made it clear he wasn't happy about something. One thing I did notice was that the sheriff wasn't by his side, which made me oh so warm and fuzzy.
"Mister Walsh," he said, his tone severe. "I thought I made it clear at our last meeting that I didn't want to hear from you again until you cleared out that Sabbat nest in Long Beach."
"It's been cleared, sir," he said, adopting a formal and subservient tone with the prince. "Miss Flores led an attack that netted sixteen mortals and two kindred."
"She did?" the prince asked, taken aback by the words. "I see. Is this one of the captured kindred?" he asked, looking at Meredith.
"No, sir," I said, stepping forward with my head lowered. It was time to play political games. "This is Meredith Coates, one of my ghouls who was captured by the traitor Celeste Evans and turned into a Tremere against her wishes. I brought her to you in the hopes to beg favor that you might spare her life."
"That won't be necessary," he said, his tone somewhat cold. "Mister Walsh, you and your deputy may escort Miss Coates back to the lobby. I wish a word with Miss Flores. Alone."
My heart sank as the other three left the room, leaving me alone with the prince. When the door closed, his face relaxed into one of relief. "I find myself in the rare position of being in awe," he said, relaxing his posture behind his desk. "Here I think I was going to have to face the city's primogen while a known nest of the Sabbat withstood my attempts at purging them from the city."
"Glad to be of service, sir," I said demurely, retaining my subservient pose.
"You need not beg favor to spare your former ghouls life," he told me, and I sagged in relief at that. "Indeed, you have done me a great service, though I should think you would be hunting for the Ankaran Sarcophagus."
"I have a lead, sir," I told him, hoping I wasn't making a mistake revealing my news or suspicions. "I found Primogen Gary of the Nosferatu and he revealed that information of the sarcophagus's location was released to the Giovanni."
"Blast them!" the prince spat, his posture going rigid.
"I was waiting until Friday evening and was going to try to slip into their party to search the premises for it, though if you want to make a more formal grab, I'd be happy to lead the way."
"No," he said, sagging back into his chair. "You've made the right decision. The Giovanni are not a clan to mess with, and without direct knowledge of its location, they might move, bury or destroy it before we could ascertain its location within the premises."
"Then I shall continue my former course and infiltrate their party," I said, and the prince gave me a wicked smile.
"Keep proving yourself useful to me, Miss Flores," he said, his posture again relaxing into his chair, "And I might find myself deeply indebted to you. As I said before, you need not beg favor for your ghouls life. I spare her, as payment for the favor you inadvertently paid me in dealing with Miss Evans and her Sabbat pack. I ask only that you watch over her for the first few days, teach her to respect the Traditions as you have, and make sure she understands the importance of keeping the Masquerade."
"I will, sir," I said, unable to keep the smile from my face. "Is there anything else?"
"No, that will do it," he said, shuffling the papers on his desk. "Have a good evening, Miss Flores."
You too, sir," I said, bowing a bit before turning and walking out, my head high.
I soon rejoined Meredith, Jean and Walsh in the lobby, telling them what the prince said about Meredith. All were happy to hear the news.
"Well, my dear," Walsh said, extending his business card to her, "If you have any questions or need to report a masquerade breach as I've instructed you on them, please call me immediately."
"So much to learn," she said, taking the card.
"Once you master the basics, the rest is easy," I told her. "Jean, why don't we swing by the chantry and see if they'll take Meredith in and teach her the ways of their clan."
"Sure," she said, leading the way to the main elevator down. "My night's clear now, so unless something comes up, I'm roaming the streets, anyway."
We took the elevator down, Jean using a special key to access the garage floor, and rode in her Toyota pickup to the chantry. We left the books in her pickup, so we could check-in with Strauss. Once through the door, I pointed out the cats and fairies hiding on the second floor landing.
"And that one there," I said, pointing out the large tabby sitting on the banister. "Is Keenan. He belongs to the magister, Eloise Watson."
"And they can talk to them and be understood?" she said, and I nodded.
"Hi, Keenan," I called up the tabby, and it hopped down and rubbed against my leg. "Where's Eloise?"
He darted to the door, paused, and we began following him through the halls to the familiar doors of Strauss's study. When I opened the door, I found Strauss and Eloise talking with an another guy who was older, with mostly gray hair and glasses in a tweed suit.
"Here she is, now," Strauss said, standing from his customary spot by the fire. "Miss Flores, my lord, Thomas Barkiss."
"A pleasure," I said, nodding my head. I didn't think it would happen so fast.
"And whom are the other two," Barkiss said in a British accent.
"The blonde on Miss Flores's right is Deputy Jean Baker," Strauss said, introducing her. "I must confess, to not knowing the other."
"Allow me to introduce Meredith Coates," I said, and the everyone exchanged pleasantries.
"I've come to see if its possible for me to join the chantry," Meredith asked.
"One must be of Tremere blood to join our chantries," Barkiss said.
"My sire was Celeste Evans," she said, and Strauss and Barkiss exchanged a stoic glance.
"Let me check," Eloise said, coating her hand in blood. I was close enough to see the words what formed on Meredith's hand, the words 'Celeste Evans,' 'Tremere,' and the number nine formed. She then turned and informed Strauss and Barkiss of her findings.
"She was born outside of the pyramid," Barkiss said in a low tone to Strauss as they tried to have a private conversation.
"I know," he said, muttering it under his breath before increasing his volume to be properly heard. "I'm sorry, fledgling. We must deny your request at this time."
"But, why?" she asked, becoming a bit distraught.
"We're not saying you may not join the chantry in time," Strauss said, proving his worth as a politician and diffusing the situation, "but the secrets are only available to the worthy."
"How does one prove their worth to the clan, when the clan keeps them at arms length," Jean said, challenging the men. "For that matter, do you do do this to all fledglings?"
"By helping keep our secrets," Strauss said defensively. "And no, Deputy Baker, we don't do this to those we embrace in accordance to our clan's strict guidelines. Only those individuals who are sired without the clan's permission are barred from direct entry into the chantry."
"The night wanes, Regent Strauss, so if I might ask the question for which I came?" Barkiss asked, removing his glasses to clean them.
"You may, my lord," Strauss said.
"It has been alleged that you were offered to be taught the ways of Thaumaturgy," he said, cleaning his glasses with a silk cloth. "Is this true?"
"Yes, sir," I said, nodding my head. "Regent Strauss offered to teach me for taking care of a sensitive problem."
"Is this true, Regent Strauss?" he asked, turning to the elder Tremere.
"I offered, yes," he said, lowering his head. "The sensitivity of the problem in question was one that affected the masquerade."
"Why didn't you alert the scourge?" Jean asked, and I swear Strauss winced.
"Because I didn't want to bring shame on our chantry that one of our creations got free," he said, finally. "I had no intention of carrying out said instruction, intending to use dominate to wipe the memory of our agreement from her mind or change the payment she wanted."
I laughed at that, making all the Tremere in the room eye me. "Feel free to try," I said, laughing.
"Is that a challenge?" Barkiss asked, and I nodded my head then removed my shades.
"Hop," he said, and I shook my head.
"No, you hop," I said, forcing the last word out as a mental command on the Tremere who immediately got up from his high backed seat and began hopping.
After several hops, he stopped what he was doing and look quite embarassed. "I," he said, looking around and then looked at me.
"She's of an extremely low generation," Eloise said, speaking up. "There's not a handful of kindred in the world who can dominate her by the rules we know of."
"That is, unlikely," he said, returning to his seat. "My sire, Meerlinda, should have no problem dominating her if she so chose."
"No, sir," Eloise said, getting a look of disbelief from Barkiss. "She's fourth generation. Meerlinda is fifth. The laws of domination as we Tremere understand them would not allow her to dominate Miss Flores."
"It is impossible for her to be of such low generation," Barkiss said quickly. "There's only four members of the council who can lay claim to such a generation, and one person in the world who may make one!"
"And only those four members have any chance of dominating her," Eloise said calmly. "Also, she's not a Tremere, but of clan Lasombra, and me and Strauss can both attest to her having met him."
"I see," he said, then turned back to Strauss. "Did you know of all this?"
"I did not know of everything," Strauss told him. "I knew she was particularly powerful, but not the extent of her power or her low generation."
"Very well," he said, seeming to have made up his mind. "I find that though Regent Strauss offered, he was not willing to carry through on his offer," he said, and I gave Strauss an evil eye. He caught my look, and seemed to wither under my glare. "As such, I find that though this warrants a more mindful hand in the future, it does not warrant the immediate removal of Strauss from his office.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I must return to New York City," he said standing.
"I will escort you, my lord," Strauss said, standing to walk with the Brit out the door. Once they were out the door, I turned to Eloise.
"Well, there goes my life," she said sourly.
"What does that mean?" Meredith asked her.
"It means, kid, you got a tutor," she said, hanging her head. "Got a couch?"
"Um, yeah," Meredith said, looking thoughtful. "It's not very comfortable. Personally, I'd rather sleep on the floor."
"Once I fall into torpor during the day, it won't matter," she said, and we all began to shuffle out in the hall. "You mind if I bring a trunk?"
"I got a pickup outside," Jean said, trying to be the upbeat one in the group which I thought hilarious. A Gangrel was the happy one? "Bring as much as you want."
"Give me a hand?" she said, and we followed her up the stairs to what seemed to be her room.
Walking in the door, I found it was a one room suite with attached bathroom. A bar divided the kitchenette from the living/bedroom area. Eloise began to remove books from a shelf, stacking them in a chest, while the rest of us stood around. When she filled the trunk, she filled Meredith and Jeans hands with as much as they could hold, then I picked up the trunk with my potence.
"Just pile it on," I told her, finding the trunk light with my potence activated. Eloise obliged, putting more books on top of the trunk until I had the last of it, then she grabbed all the clothes in her closet and slung them over her shoulder before grabbing Keenan's bed.
"Let's go," she said, trooping out the door to the entryway. I followed her, past a growing knot of acolytes who watched their magister leave. "Keenan! Let's go!" she called, calling her tabby to her. The cat followed, acting more like a dog as it stuck by her side and we piled everything in the back of Jean's Toyota.
We packed it all in, but a sense of unease hit me. "Headed back to the motel? I asked Meredith.
"Yeah," she said, and I nodded my head.
"Mind holding my bag and rifle for me? I want to take a walk," I told her.
"Sure," she said, then looked concerned. "I'd ask if you were going to do something crazy, but you already did when you rescued me."
"It's nothing," I said, smiling. I knew what she was concerned about, but decided to lie to put her at ease. "I want to see if I can find any more Sabbat. They still have my friend."
"Do me a favor?" she asked, and I nodded for her to go on. "Don't take them on by yourself. I don't care if you did that to rescue me, don't try to be the hero."
"If I find them, I'll call Jean," I said, then began to drift down the sidewalk. "Promise."
I knew she watched me walk away, not hearing the pickup start for several minutes. Out there, somewhere, was my friend, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to go find her. Something was wrong in me, something that made killing too easy.
Heading down the sidewalk, I finally labeled what it was. I needed the absolution of confession, the promise that I wasn't a bad person and my soul wasn't going to go to Hell. I needed a church, and after checking a nearby phone booth, began to walk for the closest one.