Author's Note: I'm currently reading the Tremere Clan novel, by Eric Griffen, so my working knowledge of the Tremere has been influenced somewhat by the story.
Chapter Four: Caging the Wild Animal
When most saw the two hundred year-old plantation house, at the end of a long driveway less than forty feet from the main road, they thought of Tara from the Gone with the Wind.
There were no housekeepers to prevent the years of damage which threatened to overcome the great home. The windows were smashed in by rebellious youth who occasionally trespassed on a dare. Snow covered the vast lawn and the cobblestone steps, and the sundeck was molding over fast.
Gargoyles watched from the widows walk on the roof. Their orders were to remain silent and to keep kindred intruders out. Beyond that, humans could practically squat there so long as the house was still intact. After all, if some random human drifter or drug user happened to crash on their property, Zarius need never know that they were killed there.
The bedroom door creaked loudly, echoing throughout the house and waking up the heroine addict who sullied the canopy bed with his presence. The foul stench of urine and feces overpowered Benjamin's preternatural senses. Fortunately he could afford to be choosey, as this wasn't the only squatter who'd had presence of mind to invade the Tremere house.
"Sven!" He shouted to one of the initiates. "You can have this one. Drain him and destroy the body."
"Yes Master Benjamin," the initiate responded, bowing nervously before accosting the addict.
Benjamin turned to the remaining five. "The rest of you feed on the rubbish in this house and when you are done, adjourn to the library. We have important matters to discuss before we move on."
"Yes Master Benjamin."
The initiates scattered to find their meals. Benjamin straightened his robes and went to find his own prey. In a matter of hours he had succeeded in convincing these mere fledglings, that he now held their young lives in his hands. If they so much as looked at him suspiciously, he would think nothing of killing them here and now. In his century Benjamin learned that fear was a powerful ally, and it insured that there would never be rebellion within the ranks.
Benjamin of course, had no intention of taking on the Vienna, or his own prince. But time would pass and these initiates would rise through the steps and become more powerful. Under his guidance they would make far better tools than the artifacts he had to work with. In a century or two, he could request total independence from the Tremere clan and become a solitary mage, with but a few assistants for his own personal use.
Benjamin found a pair of runaways sleeping on a plastic lined couch in one of the reading rooms. It was a boy and a girl, no older than sixteen, with clothes that suggested a less than privileged background. They were unkempt and slightly filthy, but they weren't as disgusting as the heroine addict. In fact, from the scent, there was nothing polluting their blood.
"Hmm, dinner for two."
Benjamin spun around and saw Amanda, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in traditional black robes, befitting any regent of the chantry. Her long blond hair and brown eyes were her best features, creating the illusion of a beautiful angel when a vicious witch existed beneath the surface. Benjamin's ambitions came crashing to the floor as she entered the room. Though he ruled against the execution of the initiates, he could sense hidden motives beneath the surface. But why come to him now, after he had all but declared war on her prince?
"How did you find me?" Benjamin demanded. "I was careful to avoid all Kindred outposts here."
"In Vermont?" Amanda laughed. "This isn't one of the big cities like Portland or San Francisco. If someone is in our state we can find him, which, by the way, is something you have against you."
"I imagine there is quite a bit of distress in Zarius' domain now," Benjamin said, with a wry grin. "But you can take credit for some of that."
"True." Amanda looked past Benjamin. The boy was beginning to stir. "Honestly Benjamin, couldn't you find better prey than this?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"An idea that's better than killing children in Zarius' land? Hell yes." Amanda held out her wrist and made a small cut. "Take some of my blood."
Benjamin snorted.
"How do you know I won't take too much?"
"Because I'm more powerful than you and you're too smart to try and force me into torpor."
With a slight nod of obedience, Benjamin accepted the gracious offering of blood from Amanda. Whatever she was up to, he was too hungry to think about it now. When he wiped his chin and backed away. The children must have been exhausted not to awaken by now.
"Let the girl sleep." Amanda said, removing a wallet from a pouch on her side. She placed it on the floor beside the sofa, and slowly pulled the boy to his feet. She kept both children in a firm trance to prevent their awakening. "This one is going with you."
"What's your game Amanda?" Benjamin asked, more out of curiosity than demand.
"I have no need to tell you of my actions. However, I have come to give you a fair warning. The Gangrel are watching the border pretty closely, and unless I'm mistaken Zarius has the Assamites throwing their weight around too."
"What do you suggest?"
"First," Amanda reached out and grabbed Benjamin's throat. "You would do well to address me a little more respectfully."
"Ulp, yes Primogen Amanda. I meant no disrespect."
"Apology accepted. But in the meantime, I suggest you make your way for White River Junction. Only a few Anarchs live there, but they shouldn't be a problem for you and your little power block.
Benjamin shrugged, like he hadn't been thinking of it moments ago. Amanda smiled and removed a cell phone from her pocket.
"Take this. I'll call you to keep you one step ahead of the Gangrel. Mind you, I have my own agenda to keep track of, and you'll have to rely on your own weak sense of foresight if you want to stay alive. But then, Sean is good at what he does, and so are his Gangrel."
Amanda brought the boy out to the porch, and summoned the remaining initiates so she could address them.
"Adolph is dead." It wasn't a question or an offer of sympathy. "This one will take his place. What is your name boy?"
The boy was awake now under Amanda's power. He shivered violently but he answered.
"Dennis."
"Dennis, you must go with these people. They will take care of you and teach you everything you need to know. But first, I must give you something. Will you accept what I have to offer?"
The boy looked at the vampires, frightened, but not sure what to think. He nodded.
Amanda bit into his throat and drank deeply. The blood was warm and pleasantly free of chemicals. His young heart began to beat faster as adrenaline surged. Amanda withdrew her fangs and bit into her wrist. As he fed from her she gave the others their instructions. Care for the boy. When he is fully transformed, take him with you to White River Junction. Benjamin must go there and remain there until I tell him otherwise. The longer he is, the more damage he does, like a wild animal kept in a cage. Kill any Gangrel you come across, with or without his orders or you will have to deal with me.
"Jeff, whatever you do, you can't print that story out," Mary ordered the editor of the Banner. Trent sat at the coffee table with four other Ventrue, waiting for her orders. "No, not until we have a decent cover up. Whatever it is it doesn't have to make front page news. Yes…yes I know the Gangrel are upset…yes I know but there's enough trouble with them and the Tremere right now, we don't need to fuel the fire. Sean's ordered the Gangrel on the police force to keep a tight watch on things, and I trust you to find something to go on the front page besides this incident last night."
Mary placed the receiver back in the cradle and walked around her desk so she could be face to face with her childer.
"As usual the foundations of our perfect tower managed to get rocked again. We are facing dangerous times and it is absolutely imperative that we do our part to maintain peace. We can't leave the Gangrel with all of the grunt work here. Try to discourage rumors by not giving anyone too many details without knowing the facts. I want you all to work on making Vermont safe for Prince Julian Luna and his guest when they arrive here, including assisting the Gangrel in their investigations."
Dean Wilder raised a hand. "Mary. What of the Brujah? It's highly likely that they'll try and take advantage of the discord between the Gangrel and the Tremere. Shouldn't we try to diffuse them in someway?"
"Unfortunately, no. I have brought that point to Zarius and his concern is that if we interfere with the Brujah then the conflict will only become worse. Rivalry between two clans is bad enough without adding a third and forth. And fortunately the Brujah and the Gangrel have been at a standstill since the incident in 1998.
"Above all, do not to take sides in this conflict. The Tremere involved in the death of that policeman was not a Tremere from the Vermont clan. I won't try and understand the complexities of their laws and bylaws, but I do know that there are insurgents among their clan like in every other."
"Some of us are working directly with Gangrel," Trent pointed out. "Especially in the hotel and other sensitive areas. Sean and I are best friends, I'm sure I could help put out any brush fires before they start."
Mary nodded, approvingly. "That will be fine. Be sure to offer your support to Sean, after all he is working hard to field this incident and protect one of the most distinguished members of our clan."
Mary dismissed the meeting. Trent tried to shield his eyes from the mid morning sun. He'd fed well enough to survive the ultraviolet rays, but it was bright and blinding against the fresh layers of snow. Luckily his car windows were tinted heavily enough that from the inside a human might have thought he was in a closet.
Trent came to an intersection at route 7. Morning services were letting out at the Green Mountain Christian Center, and elderly drivers were taking to the roads. It would take forever to get off of Harwood Hill at this rate. While Trent waited for the light to turn green, he considered driving north, towards Pownal. If he stayed on route 7 for two hours he would be at the crime scene. Human and Kindred alike had been to the scene on and off for the last twelve hours. Fortunately there was enough evidence for human detectives to believe this was random human violence. But since a policeman was involved that meant an investigation that could go on for months before it got quiet again.
We'll be pulling double shifts for a while, Trent thought, with a depressing sigh. He turned north and decided to see if he could offer his help.
There was a strong sense of morbid grief that came with driving down this road. As if by taking this road any Kindred would suddenly combust, sharing the awful fate of the two unfortunate vampires.
The roads were wet from melted snow. Fortunately traffic was manageable for the most part, with the Sunday drivers and the occasional Greyhound full of skiers. Some clouds blocked the sun, making the daylight easier to tolerate for a time. Trent saw warning signs and police vehicles lining the side of the road. As he got closer to the crime scene the scent of gasoline and burning flesh still hung in the air.
Trent pulled over into the breakdown lane. An officer was about to motion him away, but a Gangrel tapped him on the shoulder and told him it was all right. Trent recognized him as Michael Andrews, one of Sean's childer.
"Sean's over by the cruiser," Mike said as Trent stepped out of the car. "He's been taking this hard."
Mike walked with Trent towards the crime scene, where Sean stood by and watched a forensics scientist examine the vehicle. The passenger side door had been melted off and the cushions were charred heavily. The smell of water and chemicals from the fire engines was also strong, even though they had been there hours earlier.
"How are the other Gangrel on the force taking it?" Trent asked, conversationally.
"How do you think they're taking it? I've never seen anyone so ready to carry out a full blown witch hunt in my life."
"How's it going Sean?" Trent asked, approaching his friend.
"Not bad," Sean said, noncommittally. His focus was on the forensics scientist, but he gave a glance of acknowledgement. He was dressed in a white turtle neck with a gray sweat jacket tied around his waist. It was his pallor that worried Trent, for it indicated that Sean had been basically starving since the night of the concert. "They've been at this for hours and they still can't tell us anything we don't know."
"They're only human," Trent joked.
Sean managed to grin, but it was short lived. Mike returned to his squad car briefly, only to return with a piece of paper in his hand.
"We might have something," He said. "One of our guys picked up a teenage girl wandering a mile north of a mansion outside of Waterbury."
Sean shrugged. "Some runaway probably."
"Yeah, but you'll be interested in hearing her story. Apparently this girl was spending the night with her boyfriend in the mansion. Next morning he was gone, and she distinctly remembers people talking in the mansion the night before he went missing."
"What's so special about that?" Sean asked. "So the kid probably left her when he decided to go back home."
"Actually," Trent said, looking at the printout. "Sean, can I talk to you in private for a second?"
"Of course."
Sean told Mike to remain near the cruiser, incase the scientist needed anything, and walked back to Trent's car. He brushed off the occasional questioning glance from the human police officers. More than once he fielded a question as to what such a young person was doing at a place like this, but it didn't bother him as much now as it did when he turned eighteen.
"So, what's up?"
"I didn't want to say anything around Mike," He said, nervously. "Mary told us to try and keep things from getting worse between the Gangrel and the Tremere. But you're the primogen, and you should know about this."
"Well, spit it out." Sean said, patiently.
"Well, two years ago, Yolie Saberhagen, the real estate agent who Mary embraced, worked up in Waterbury for a few years. She condemned a plantation after too much mold was found growing in the bathrooms. Human beings couldn't live in a place like this, but it was nothing for Kindred."
"Yeah, but what Kindred would want to live in…" Sean stopped himself as the possibilities occurred to him.
"Before you came along Amanda asked Mary for rights to the property. Since there was nothing to be lost by handing it over, Mary agreed and the house became Tremere property. Amanda used the grounds nearby to hold their rituals, but she also rented it to the Tzimicse and the Malkavians."
"You think Benjamin would try to squat there?" Sean asked, glancing around and making sure the other Gangrel weren't eavesdropping.
"I wouldn't put it past him. He didn't seem like the type to think before he acted. But I was also thinking…well, what if Amanda is behind all this somehow?"
"It's possible. But let's see what facts we can dig up first. Are you up for a drive to the Waterbury?"
Trent wanted to help, but couldn't help but voice his uncertainty. "I could use some sleep, and Mary might need me here."
"That's okay. You can catch your forty-winks while I drive. But I need someone with a straight head. All of my Gangrels are too pissed off right now, and until we have clear and definitive proof of what's going on I want to keep everything on a need to know basis. You and I need to know, they don't. So you coming?"
Trent remembered the meeting with Mary and the other Ventrue. Well, she did give unofficial permission to help Sean if possible.
"Let me call Mary to let her know where I'll be."
Sean smiled and clapped Trent on the shoulder. He went to give Mike standing orders while Trent made his call. Mary, I'm going with Sean to Waterbury. No ma'am, I have no intention of taking sides. But if I can help out in anyway, I will. Thanks, don't worry. I'll be back tomorrow morning with a full report.
Of all the indignities he had to suffer during the Seven Circles. Of every demeaning little task his superiors put him through. Of all the disciplines he had to master, and the lessons he was made to recite, and the pains he was forced to endure if he made a mistake. And oh, there was amazing pain to endure. The headaches, the blood sweat, the hunger, the century of grueling hardship did not nearly add up, to the sufferable indignity of dealing with Amanda Capron's antics.
As if having to bring these leeches back to Maine was bad enough, now it seemed as though they had an unwelcome addition to their clan. Dennis accepted the blood from Sven's wrist, infuriating Benjamin even more.
While Gale drove Benjamin sat in the back seat, biting his own tongue as the fledgling pulled away. Sven pressed down on his wrist until the bite marks healed. He clearly enjoyed the temporary breach in etiquette that Amanda had placed upon him.
"Don't think this excuses you from punishment," Benjamin reminded the remaining violators. "Amanda may be primogen of Vermont, but when we get back to Maine you will be punished according to our prince's law."
"I doubt very much the prince will be harsh, Master Benjamin," Sven retorted. The gleam in his eye was brighter than any Christmas tree ornament. "When he discovers that you killed that gangrel and our fellow initiate. I haven't been here long enough but I do know that superiors have harsher punishments to contend with than initiates."
"You would do well not to threaten me childe," Benjamin hissed. "I am the prince's messenger. If an accident happens to befall the rest of you on the way back, all I need is to report it."
"You're in no position to threaten us," Sven said, turning to face Benjamin. "While Amanda is on your-"
Benjamin pulled the athame from his pouch and drove it between Sven's eyes, pasting a permanent look of shock on his face. Benjamin swiped with a single claw, opening the initiate's throat. Gale kept her eyes on the road, and the others kept quiet. Benjamin was oblivious to their unusual silence. He turned to Dennis and spoke loudly enough for the van to hear.
"This is the price of rebellion. Sven here may have been horribly disillusioned from our encounter with Amanda Capron. I suggest the rest of you shake yourself free of the idea that you can ever manipulate your way through eternity as she has, without losing your immortal lives." Benjamin pulled the athame free. To Benjamin he said simply, "Take the rest of his blood. It will make you stronger."
The fledgling boy eagerly obeyed. It was a pity they'd have to kill the wretch at the earliest convenience.
