Note: I'd like to add here, that title of this chapter is a bit of a nod off to an original vampire story I wrote back in my high school days. It was a short, buffy-esque story about a girl who killed vampires...only her name was Delilah...see it was original. So there.
Anyway, thank you Tober for your kind reviews. Which reminds me, check out Tober's story too if you get a chance.
Chapter Three: Blood Stained Snow
Sean watched the scene from the roof of the high school. Police canvassed the area. Yellow tape blocked off everyone but the press and the girl's family.
Terrance, another Gangrel knew the girl. Sean recognized her from the concert. Short blond hair, a white tank top underneath a faux fur coat and boot cut jeans. She bled from multiple wounds on the neck, wrists, stomach. And with his preternatural sight, Sean could see the CD the Monks had signed for her lying in the snow a few feet from her body.
"I want to know who did this," Terrance said, letting a growl escape into his voice. "I'll kill them myself Sean."
Sean kept his attention on the murder scene. Police were taking statements from witnesses who were close by. He focused and listened in to piece together the events of the last hour.
The girl-Sally, according to Terrance-was driving home. She was going a little fast that night, but people sped past the high school all the time. Another car pulled out of the high school parking lot and stopped right in front of her. She squealed to a stop and blared her horn, but when the occupants of the car stepped out she must have sensed that they intended to kill her. She tried to run back the way she came, but her attackers caught up and cut her off. She ran towards the high school. They surrounded her as she screamed and cried, and killed her, on the sidewalk of the Career Development Center.
How she was killed was the confusing detail. People seemed to remember everything else accept the way she was killed. Most said knives, or ice picks, or some other variation.
Terrance's eyes took on a dangerous red glow. Sean placed a hand on his shoulder, but was quickly brushed off. In a firm voice he said, "Terrance, we treat this like any other situation. You can mourn for her after we've found and punished the ones responsible. Is that clear?"
"But they killed her," Terrance said, as if Sean hadn't been listening to the cops at all. "It's those fucking Tremere! I knew this would happen if we let them free!"
"Terrance!" Sean grabbed Terrance by the shoulders and pulled him away from the ledge. When he was out of the sight of the police he threw Terrance to the ground. He hated to be so rough, but he knew it was necessary if he was going to get anything done. "I'm sorry you knew that girl! It's hardest when people we love die, I know believe me. But if you let emotions get the better of you you're going to do something stupid. Now either put your emotions on the backburner, or I'll assign you to border patrol, because I need Gangrel, not hotheaded lovers."
Terrance sat there on his hands and knees, fighting the anger. Sean could tell that he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on the ones responsible for Sally's death. She must have been more to him than just some random girl. But Terrance's respect for the primogen overrode his anger, and he climbed to his feet and brushed snow and slush off of his clothes.
"I'm sorry."
"Just gather the other Gangrel and meet me at the college. I'll tell Zarius we have a problem and meet you with our orders."
The entrance into Zarius' home was freezing. For the first time in years Sean was thankful he didn't have circulation to worry about. The cave went deep into the mountain. Many students came in during the day, but not even the most skilled spelunker could find Zarius' home. It was large enough to fit a football field, but the rock that served as a door could only be moved by someone with preternatural strength.
The only light came from a fire in a pit at the center of the "floor". The cage which Sean was once held prisoner sat in a corner with the chain coiled neatly beside it. Zarius lived a very Spartan lifestyle. His only possessions were some books, which he kept neatly on a shelf, and his bed. He kept several bottles of wine between a cluster of stalactites where they remained cool. Zarius was sitting on his bed, reading from an ancient text when Sean entered.
"Sean. This is a pleasant surprise," he said, placing the book on the bed and rising.
"I only wish I had pleasant news," Sean returned. He dropped to his knee to kiss the Nosferatu's hand and rose again. "My prince, there has been a murder in the town. The victim was a young girl, a fan of the Rabid Monks."
"Kindred?"
Sean nodded. "It seems all of the witnesses were made to forget how the girl was killed. But they allowed them to remember the moments up until that point. It's my guess that whoever was responsible expected us to be looking for them, and Dominated the witnesses into selective amnesia."
The look in Zarius' eyes said that he was equally as sure of who killed the girl as Terrance was. Sean had to admit, it was too much of a coincidence for his tastes as well.
"I want every Gangrel searching for this girl's murderers." Zarius ordered. "Find Benjamin and the renegade Tremere. Bring them and any Anarchs you find to the prison."
"Yes my prince," Sean was gone as quickly as he came.
Zarius meditated until his rage subsided. He would not tolerate anyone in his territory who would willingly terrorize and kill an innocent child. When his mind was settled he left his cave and took to the air. He flew over the mansion of Southern Vermont College, where the Gangrel were assembled in the court yard. Sean was issuing orders and sending his lieutenants out to the patrol Vermont's borders. Lower ranking Gangrel were ordered to watch the streets and the hospitals. Sean even told three or four neonates to get arrested deliberately so they could monitor what was going on in the police stations. And be sure to feed well, you'll need the blood.
Satisfied that Sean was taking charge of the situation, Zarius flew south, towards Pownal near the Massachusetts border. He watched the vehicles and the woods and mountains around him. Vehicles drove along the highway. Some moved at a conservative pace, others floored it in spite of the slippery conditions.
The snow fell heavier now, impeding Zarius' sight so that he needed to use his tracking abilities to find his quarry. The heat of vehicles on the road came in the form of an orange haze. After centuries of experience, Zarius learned to separate artificial heat from the heat of warm blooded animals. But live prey wasn't what he wanted. He wanted the fading warmth of blood resting within the veins of the undead.
He found both.
In a cabin, in the mountains, two bodies. One had a beating heart and was dangerously close to another creature. This creature had a dead heart and dying blood. Zarius covered the distance quickly, flying just above the tips of the evergreens which graced Vermont's hills. The wind slapped his owl form like a hand across the face, but he ignored the discomfort as his thoughts rested on saving the girl.
The cabin came into view. He could hear the girl's confusion and fright as the man revealed his nature.
"Ow, what the fuck!" The girl yelled.
"Don't think about the pain," The vampire replied. "It'll be over soon, and you might enjoy it."
Zarius smashed through the window of the cabin and knocked over a nightstand as he landed. Startled, the vampire lost his grip and she staggered towards the door.
"Don't," Zarius implored.
The girl's hand slumped to her side and she turned to face Zarius. He dominated her into laying down on the sofa and sleeping. Then he grabbed the rogue vampire by the throat and held him in the air. The vampire stared into the Zarius' snake like eyes, frightened, yet vicious with hunger.
"What is your clan? Who is your prince?" Zarius demanded. "Tell me or I'll tear you apart."
"I have no clan. I was sired a week ago."
"Caitiff scum!" Zarius threw the Caitiff into a liquor cabinet. The stench of caged scotch and vodka filled the cabin, and splinters of mahogany and glass pierced the young creature's supple and fragile skin, pushing him to the point of frenzy. A single talon protruded from Zarius pointer finger in anticipation of the young one's attack. "Caitiff interloper," he said. His voice was loud and resonating. "You have entered my territory with out my permission, and you have attempted to shed innocent blood on our grounds. For violating my laws you are sentenced to Final Death."
The Caitiff was indifferent. His hunger was all he could think about, and he leapt at Zarius like a wolverine attacking a grizzly bear. Zarius made a clean swipe with his talon, beheading the rogue. He carried the body outside and found an old stone oven with a steal door. The base was covered in several inches of snow, but it didn't matter.
Zarius pulled open the door and stuffed the body in to the small space. He then removed a vial of a greenish-violet liquid, and poured it all over the vampire's weakening form. When the liquid made contact with the skin, it made a hissing sound as the body began to dissolve. Zarius watched as it broke down and the blood disintegrated under the power of the potion. It was a mixture of acid and phosphorous, enchanted and aged by powerful mages.
In less than a minute the body was a mound of smoldering black ashes, mixed in with snow and mud. Zarius returned to the cabin to check on the girl. Who knew where the rogue found this one? He was happy to find that the girl did not lose too much blood, and had not even been very deeply bitten by the time Zarius intervened. She was dressed very warmly for the season in a gray and brown wool sweater and black pants. Her brown hair curled and fell just above her neck.
The girl stirred despite Zarius' strong domination and gazed into his concerned eyes. She saw their cold, reptile-like stare, and yet somehow she seemed to sense the warmth and compassion beneath them for she wasn't afraid.
"You saved me," she said, still half asleep.
"Where are you from?" Zarius asked, kneeling beside her and checking her bite marks.
"I go to Williams college in Mass. Jeremy took me up here for the weekend, but…was he like you?"
"No. He was a monster. Did anyone else know you were up here?"
The girl thought for a moment. Then she shook her head.
"Then sleep," Zarius dominated her once more. "And forget all that has happened here."
The girl went into a deeper sleep now. Zarius searched the cabin and found blankets, sheets, and towels in a cabinet in the bedroom. He used several towels to wrap the Caitiff's head. The keys to a vehicle were on the floor, thrown from the night stand that Zarius knocked over. He found a Subaru in fairly good condition, and with a full tank of gas parked at the top of a driveway. Zarius placed the head in the back cargo space, and then carried the girl out and gently placed her in the passenger seat.
Zarius once received a crash course in driving from Bastian, but he had never really used the skill until now. He remembered how to start the vehicle, by inserting the key into the wheel and turning it. But it took him a good deal longer to figure out the stick shift. Bastian's car was an automatic. Once he managed to get the vehicle moving forward, it was a matter of navigating the narrow drive way without driving into a tree. Zarius toyed with the headlights a few times before deciding that he was better off relying on preternatural sight, but the snow made even that difficult. If only it would let up for just a little while, he thought.
When he finally made it to the highway he was grateful to see that the highway utility vehicles were out and about, distributing salt and dirt along the roads and keeping it from getting slippery. Even though it was his second time driving, Zarius managed to handle the Subaru as if he were born to drive it. But he admitted to himself that he preferred shape shifting to this any day.
Benjamin stayed on Route 7 for the past few hours. In the back the initiates slept soundly, as if the punishment that awaited them was not enough to disturb them. He wondered what moron Regent in what ill fated motherhouse ever condoned the admittance of such insubordinate wretches into the Tremere house. Even as a mortal, Benjamin had a great respect for the dark arts, and his perseverance and discipline was what earned him the privilege of becoming an initiate within his motherhouse in South Carolina.
It only took him a century to go through the seven circles, and now he was considered a fully fledged journeyman. He had been hand selected by the prince to act as a messenger and negotiator for the Maine clans. Earlier that evening, before Zarius' council Benjamin could sense the Amanda, the primogen's disapproving stare burning into his soul. He dreaded to think what his own prince, a Tremere no less, would think of his behavior. With any luck, the release and return of the progeny would be enough to overshadow Benjamin's outbursts, and he could go about his unlike studying whatever new artifacts the motherhouse scent his way.
Let them sleep, he figured. Perhaps their insubordination alone would take the attention away from him completely. He reveled in the idea of participating in their public humiliation before the rest of the motherhouse.
"Damn snow," he uttered, losing control of the van for a second. Blue and red lights lit up his rearview mirror. "Now what?"
Benjamin thought of trying to out run the cop. He had done it before with success. He needed blood badly, and dominating the cop would not help his situation. Fighting both anger and indignity he pulled over to the right. He thought of reaching back and draining the blood of one of the initiates, but the irony was he could be charged with unauthorized diabolization.
His adrenaline raged when he discovered this cop was Kindred.
"Benjamin McIntyre?" The officer asked, shining the flashlight in the back of the van. "Would you care to explain where you were at precisely 11:35 tonight?"
"On my way home officer," Benjamin replied, as politely as patience would allow. "And I'd very much like to get home to my prince, as your prince has given me leave to do."
"A girl was murdered tonight," the officer explained, unflinching. "The prince has ordered your return."
"What does some murder have to do with us?"
"That's not my place to say. But my orders are to bring you back at all costs. You can turn around now and return voluntarily, or you can wait here while I radio for backup."
Benjamin weighed the options. What choice did he have? The New Hampshire border was still twelve miles away, and the prince of Hampton Beach was notoriously loyal to Zarius. He couldn't hope to outrun a blood hunt. But he had orders to bring the initiates back, and this cop was but a single lowly Gangrel.
"I refuse." Benjamin said finally. "Go ahead and radio for backup. You can do nothing to stop me from leaving."
The cop sighed.
"That's a bad choice. You'll have to step out here and place your hands on the car. And you guys, out here now."
The initiates woke up, confused and startled. They staggered out of the back doors of the van placed their hands on the van like they were instructed. The Gangrel pocketed his flashlight and pulled out a gun.
"This is loaded with phosphorous bullets," he said. "Try anything stupid and I won't hesitate to fire."
Benjamin waited until the cop back was turned. He then drew his athame from the sheath and directed the initiates to be silent. The cop reached into the car and pulled the radio out.
"This is 24 on route seven north, on route to Littleton, New Hampshire. Requesting-hey, get back to the van!"
The gangrel got one shot. Benjamin side stepped the bullet and thrust the athame into the cop's dead heart. The initiates gathered around their superior, looking with shock and amazement. Blood spilled on the highway as the gangrel collapsed to his side.
"There's gasoline in the trunk," Benjamin said. He pulled the athame from the officer's heart and wiped it with a cloth from his pocket. "Dispose of the body and the vehicle. Do it and I'll negotiate with the prince to make your punishments lenient."
One of the initiates returned Benjamin's orders with a dropped jaw; as if it only now occurred to him that he was in trouble for what he did.
Benjamin picked up the phosphorous gun and fired it at the initiate's heart. Explosion was deafening to the remaining children's immortal ears, and they jumped back several feet. Their companion fell back, his eyes blank.
"Are my orders too difficult for you to understand?" Benjamin asked, feigning calmness as he turned the gun on the others.
"No Sir," they responded in chorus.
"Good. Then arrange these fools so it looks like a struggle took. By the time they realized it was one of ours we'll be under our prince's jurisdiction."
This time the initiates responded without hesitation. Benjamin took some small pride in this situation. He now had six frightened initiates under his control. They would be too afraid to speak against him, and if he could keep the prince from sentencing them to Final Death, he might be able to use their fear to his advantage. The bodies were convincingly arranged and an initiate poured the gasoline over the area, leaving a small trail of liquid just a few inches from the driver seat.
"Get into the van," Benjamin ordered. "Now!"
The initiates piled into the van as Benjamin removed a flare from the trunk of the police car. With one foot in the driver seat, he ignited the flare and dropped it. So what if police found it? That only made it harder for the Kindred to decide if this was a natural crime or not.
An hour before dawn a shadowy figure stood in window. His silhouette was outlined by the ambience of the streetlight just outside, but otherwise his face was almost in distinguishable. Amanda sat on the soft rug, staring placidly into the crystal ball. It was purely for novelty of course, but it helped Amanda during her meditations. Her golden blond hair caressed her silk black gown, and candles burned brightly in the cardinal directions.
"I don't know whether I should thank Benjamin," she spoke to the man. "I must admit I hadn't expected him to make such a stupid decision."
"But it takes the attention away from you at least," Allan pointed out.
"Exactly. Benjamin did me the favor in eliminating any doubt in the council's mind. Now there can be no doubt that the Tremere involved in killing that girl were under his command."
"And now there's going to be unrest in the Vermont council, with the San Francisco prince only two weeks from arriving here."
"Security will be tighter around him than around the border," Amanda pointed out. "But it won't bring Lazarus here any quicker. Perhaps Benjamin is the key to all of this, bringing his prince within my range."
"I can find him for you. But my price goes up the moment you say yes."
Amanda didn't move her head. She didn't speak a word or look away from her crystal ball. Instead she simply grinned, and focused. Allan's mental defense was too weak to fight her off. She crushed his will easily, but only enough so that he would never question her orders.
"Find Benjamin. Keep him in Vermont at all costs, and be sure he does far more damage than what he's done tonight. Now go."
"Yes, my mistress." Allan responded.
The Tremere primogen was far too disciplined to laugh out loud maniacally. But anyone who knew the premises well, could distinguish her laugh from the laugh of her Malkavian roommate anyway.
