Author's Note: At long last, chapter five is here. Winter Break is over and now it's back to the grindstone. Subsequent chapters will follow, though not as quickly as I'd like them too. I'd like to recommend CorelHorgan's The Attempt, and the Investigation.

Also, if you would be interested in joining my C2 community entitled The Best of the Kindred the Embraced fanfictions, send me the following: An e-mail with your screen name, a sample of your own Kindred work, or three fanfictions which you highly recommend, along with your personal review. These fanfictions may be found on , or on another website.

Chapter Five: Following the Trail

Trent slept like a log in the passenger side. Sean kept to the highway and the back roads speeding most of the time, but keeping an eye out for state troopers and other obstacles.

So many thoughts cluttered his mind. The least of which was how to handle the newly arisen conflict between the Vermont Tremere and his own Gangrel.

When Sean thought about it, it was amazing how much Kindred life resembled high school, with clans being littler more than a synonym for "clique". The people who attracted the most trouble were the loners, the outsiders who refused to remain in the place they were told was theirs. Once in a while the members of the other cliques interacted with these loners, but more than often they were truly on their own. These were the Gangrels. Then you had the cliques which initiated people on a very exclusive basis. They were the rich, uptight, students who participated in every school activity, guaranteeing themselves a spot on every page of the year book. They were the members of student government, the athletes and the high honor students. They occasionally associated with outsiders, but only in passing. These were the Ventrue. Brujah were the overbearing bullies, and their millennia old rivalry with the Gangrel, at least from Sean's perspective, came from the Gangrel's refusal to be bullied.

And now came an all knew problem with the Tremere. Sean was almost certain this was a mild misunderstanding and that when he caught up with Benjamin and the initiates it would be settled. But old grudges had a way of outlasting the most brutal Final Death.

The idea that Amanda was somehow manipulating this danced in his mind as well. Gray clouds gathered in the sky, blotting out the sun. Sean checked the radio for the weather report. He stopped at an intersection and waited for a green light while the announcer read the latest forecast. Trent shifted to a better position and fell back to sleep. Sean was beginning to feel the effects of hunger. The silent memory of Zarius' voice screamed out among the confusion and stress, reprimanding his negligence and telling him to feed. Waterbury was only a few miles away, according to the signs on the side of the road.

"We need to feed," Sean said when Trent opened his eyes. "And from the looks of things you're worse off than I am."

"I can go a little while longer." Trent protested, groggily.

"Not much longer. If the sun comes out suddenly you'll combust, and then Mary'll kill me." Sean kept an eye on fields that zipped by. A herd of cows grazed on a hill even while the snow came down. But a good distance from the heard, and getting closer to the road, was a single cow. It was sickly and thin and its skin was a ragged brown color. "There's dinner."

Trent balked at the idea. The Ventrue in him felt somewhat distraught at feeding on animals like a common vagabond. And the human in him worried about the possibility of diseases.

"We won't catch anything," Sean reminded him. "And it's not human so we can kill it without your conscience bothering you."

Sean pulled onto the grass and killed the engine. Trent knew there was no arguing, with Sean or his own body. They got out of the car and climbed over the flimsy wire fence. The cow whined and began to thrash about.

"Easy girl," Sean spoke softly to it. "It'll be over soon."

Trent kept his distance as Sean approached. "Careful, those hooves can do more damage than any stake."

"Don't worry, I've done this before. I actually learned it from Mary."

The cow swung its head towards Trent, mooing loudly and kicking mud around. Sean swiftly gripped the beast in his arms, holding it steady with his preternatural strength and sinking his fangs into the exposed neck. Trent waited until the cow had lost enough blood to stop fighting, and bit into the side. He could taste the sickness and decay within the poor animals flesh, and though his body was immune to the sickness, his heart wasn't immune to the cow's despair and agony. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sean gently caressing the cow's ear, the way a person would to calm an injured dog.

Trent's body ached with relief as blood rushed through him. And like Sean said, the idea of killing a sick animal was easier to deal with than the guilt of feeding off of a human. It gave him the peace to take all that he needed.

When they both had their fill they left the carcass where it lay. When they returned to the car Sean pulled out his cell phone and called the nearest police station.

Hi, we were driving along and saw a cow lying dead in the field. Looks like it might belong to a farmer. Right along Route 22, about a mile and a half north of the intersection. No problem, hope you can find the owner.


Dennis stood near the van, hands thrust deep in his pockets. The cold didn't bother him as much as it did the night before, with the new blood warming his body. He was left to fend for himself while Gale and two of the other vampires-or "Kindred" as they called themselves-destroyed the dead one's body.

Though he had never been to White River Junction before, it was a pretty small town surrounded by mountains. A bus station and a McDonalds was the extent of this town's connection to the outside world.

He wished he knew what happened to Sarah. Everything happened so quickly, from the moment that man bit and drained his blood he'd forgotten about her. He'd met her at the same foster home in New Hampshire, and together they both decided to run from the system. Dennis had an uncle who worked in Montreal, and would have taken them both in until they were old enough to be on their own. Dennis turned eighteen in February, and Sarah only had one more year to go. It'd be easy to find under the table work in the city, so by the time they were old enough to be on their own they'd have money for their own place.

Dennis thought on the moment at the house, when the man told the other vampires to take care of him. They called him "Amanda". Did he just have one of those parents who liked to give screwed up names to their kids? That didn't make sense either, but then what did at this point? Vampires weren't supposed to be real, and now he was one.

Someone stepped into his path. A man with light brown skin and coal black hair. Dennis guessed he was Mexican. Though he was still unaware of his abilities, Dennis could smell warm blood coming from humans and animals. There was nothing warm in this person.

"Who are you?" Dennis demanded, trying to sound tougher than he felt.

"My name is Gunn," the other vampire said, smiling warmly. "You need not fear me. You and I are of the same clan."

"You mean…" Dennis tried to remember what the other vampires called themselves. "Tremere?"

Gunn laughed loudly. He placed his hands on Dennis' shoulders and gazed lovingly into the boy's eyes. Dennis wanted to back away but found himself powerless with fear and uncertainty.

"No childe. One of our own planted you among them to keep them here in Vermont. They will not leave until their messenger receives his orders, and by then you will understand what we need of you. Come, I have much to teach you young Assamite."

As night settled in Sean and Trent stood near the car, surveying the house. The stench of death was overwhelming even at this distance, and the unmistakable scent of a body's ashes also dwelled.

"I'd hoped we could go at least one day without smelling burnt vampire corpses," Trent commented wryly. He looked up at the balcony. "What do we do about those?"

Sean looked up and saw the creatures who kept their vigil over the house. One of the gargoyles gave them a warning glare.

"I'll take care of these two," He said with a snort. "While I'm distracting Quasimodo's friends here, take a look around. See what you can find."

Before Trent could object, Sean took on his wolf form and bolted into the house. Immediately the gargoyles leapt from their perches, hitting the ground and splattering mud as they bounded inside after him.

There was a lot of commotion followed by window in the back smashing. Trent saw the gargoyles chasing a timber wolf into the deep fields.

"I just hope those were the only ones," He thought out loud, nervously entering the building.

The house truly was a health hazard. It was amazing enough that the structure still stood, save for a few broken boards on the porch. Trent covered his nose as he examined the vestibule. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, rusted and covered in cobwebs. The air felt cold and filthy and just a few seconds in the place felt like rolling in sludge.

Knowing that Sean could only hold the gargoyles off for a short time, Trent made his search swift. A large living area took up the downstairs space, with a guest bathroom, kitchen and extra rooms for guests and office space. Moldy and rusted furniture, drug needles strewn about, food rappers and broken windows were all that he could find. The scent of death and blood was strong in some areas, and from the lack of bodies Trent could only assume it was kindred who had caused it. It was easy to see that human squatters came and went, but currently no one was sleeping here.

Trent found a sofa covered with a plastic sheet. Beneath the cover it was in good shape and even though Trent's abilities were still underdeveloped, he gathered that only Kindred slept on this sofa and lived to tell about it. On the plastic itself the impression of humans was strong.

Creeek! Trent spun around.

"Sean?"

Something or someone was walking up the stairs. It was silent save for the sound of the steps creaking. Trent went back to the vestibule and found the staircase. He didn't know what he would do if this thing was armed, or more powerful than he was. Taking a quick glance around him he found a few sharp objects that would make flimsy but effective weapons. Grimacing he picked up an insulin needle that someone had dropped.


Sean flew across the meadow with the gargoyles hot in his trail. They were fast little monsters, with arms and legs resembling a cougar or a lynx. Their forepaws and tails were taken from komodo dragons. Their heads were covered in white fur and they had long protruding snouts with tusks that loosely resembled a warthog's. On their backs signature gray wings flapped as they ran, but didn't give them the ability to fly. The wings were a personal touch from the Tremere alchemist who had modified these creatures centuries ago. A dire unwillingness to be mauled and dismembered kept Sean on his feet.

The first gargoyle was gaining on him, making an unearthly screeching sound. By now the field was covered in enough snow that Sean's grayish white fur helped him to blend in, and he temporarily lost the creature just by zig zagging to the left. The second one was on him. In an open field it would be impossible to keep out running them. Sean charged taking the gargoyle by surprise. It wasn't use to its quarry attacking it and it actually turned to run, exposing itself.

Sean leapt on the gargoyle and bit into its back, sinking his teeth in and tearing flesh. He leapt off just as the first gargoyle made a lunge for him. Both creatures were still alive, but the wounded one was slower now and it made things smoother. At this point it was just a game to see how long he could stay out of the remaining gargoyle's reach.


"Come in," Amanda beckoned.

Zarius let himself through the door, careful not to let his parcel bang into the door jam. Amanda was in the lobby office of her makeshift chantry, in the factory down the road from her house. It was any ones guess where Tanith was at the moment, but aside from the prince, Tremere chantries were strictly exclusive. With his preternatural hearing he could hear the sounds of chanting from the upper floors. The smell of candles, incense and potent herbs wafted through the ventilation shafts. In places only a Kindred could see were runes and incantations left to ward off enemies of the clan.

Zarius entered Amanda's office and placed the cooler on an empty table. Amanda got up from her desk and crossed the room to kiss her prince's hand.

"And what have we here Zarius?"

"The head of a Caitiff," Zarius said simply. "It was the first of many I had seen in my time ruling this territory."

Amanda lifted the lid of the cooler and removed the Kindred's head from the ice which preserved it. Its eyes were wide open and the skin was somewhat yellowed with age, but otherwise it was intact.

"You think these creatures were responsible for the murders along our territory?" Amanda asked.

Zarius nodded. "I have considered this a possibility. There are no other Nosferatu in Vermont, or I would have consulted them. I trust your forensic abilities, and your clan's powers and abilities. I thought perhaps you could answer a few questions for me."

Amanda replaced the head and closed the lid. She went into her desk and pulled out some anti-bacterial lotion.

"Any questions in particular?"

"Who made him? Has he been in the territory long? Are there more of his kind in our territory and was it they who have been killing innocent humans and Kindred? The answers to even one of those questions would be invaluable to me."

"I shall see what I can do." Amanda promised, rubbing the lotion into her hands. "May I ask where I can find you if we discover something?"

"I will be at the college, awaiting the reports of the other primogen." Zarius studied Amanda closely for a moment. When she went back to her desk to continue her work he left. Benmont Ave was quiet this evening, save for usual motorists. And the clouds were beginning to break up, having fully covered the world in soft white snow.


Zarius wanted to ask Amanda about how she was handling the conflict with the Gangrel. It pained him greatly when the clans clashed, though there was little he could do to prevent it. He trusted his primogen to maintain peace in his domain, but they had their urges and clan instincts to answer to as well. Even as the prince, Zarius had to obey the Nosferatu instinct of noninvolvement. So long as the conflict between the two clans didn't affect the Masquerade, or endanger the survival of Kindred he wouldn't interfere.

At the college Zarius met a young neonate by the name of Maya. Zarius recognized the Assamite and had approved her embrace the previous month.

"My prince," She cried, visibly distraught. "Allen, our primogen, has been missing."

"Calm down childe," Zarius said, taking her by the shoulder. "He can't have been gone that long. Come, let us escape mortal ears before you tell me more."

Zarius led her past the campus dorms and took her to his private office in the main school building. It was a small board room adjacent to the theater. Kindred and mortal used it for various reasons. Zarius closed the door and gestued for Maya to be seated.

"Now tell me when you last saw him."

"The night of the conclave, when you and the others were discussing the fate of the Tremere prisoners, Allen said he had business but he wouldn't tell us where he was going. He said someone had requested their services and that none of us were experienced enough for the job. I thought nothing of it and went on with my training. But after three days with no sign of him and no orders, even my instructor became concerned. Allen didn't appoint anyone to act in his place, and we didn't think he'd be gone long enough that it would matter."

Zarius agreed that it was suspicious. Maintaining the order and peace of the domain required Zarius' primogen to keep in constant contact with him.

"You did the right thing coming to me." He said, gently. "In the meantime, until he returns I need someone to sit in his place. Send word to the other Assamites that we need an interim primogen. I will honor any choice you make."

Maya looked up at him nervously. "My prince, I'm afraid my instructor and I are the only Assamites in Vermont who can be accounted for. We don't know the location of Allen or Gunn, and as you know they represent half of the Assamite population."

Zarius paced around the room for a few moments. It was terrible practice to show such distressing behavior in front of a neonate, but with the state of things he didn't think it would do anymore damage. First the Tremere and the Gangrel were at one another's throats, now the Assamites seemed to be sneaking around as well. Trying to stir more trouble? Allen did say he was bored.

"Very well," He said, coming to a decision. "Would you say your instructor is competent enough to lead your clan?"

"Very much sir," Maya nodded. "And I'm not saying it out of favor. Ivan has been around for many decades and has seen many things. He is loyal to the clan and does nothing without Allen's permission."

"Then with no opposing votes I accept your nomination." Zarius concluded. "Ivan Rochbergh is now interim primogen."

"Yes my prince," Maya bowed once before leaving.

Zarius waited until she was out of the building to collapse into the nearest swivel chair in his most uncharacteristic manner. Oh well…even Nosferatu were prone to frustration once in a while.