"Got a light?"
Kimberly turned, glancing at the person who had taken the seat next to her. He was moderately attractive—nothing so spectacular as to draw a lot of attention. Medium-length brown hair, grey-blue eyes and an average build. A smile crossed her face.
"Sure." She replied, pulling a Zippo from her pocket. She flicked it open and offered the flame.
The man took a drag from his cigarette. Kim recognized the scent. Cloves.
"I haven't seen you in here before," he remarked. "You new in town?"
She chuckled softly. "No, not really…I just don't come here often."
"Right," he nodded, offering a hand. "I'm John."
She took his hand, shaking it firmly. "Nice to meet you, John. I'm Kimberly."
"Kim—can I call you that?"
She nodded, slightly amused. He was definitely human…and definitely trying to hit on her.
"So, what do you do, John?" She asked, lighting her own little cancer stick and taking a long drag. No better way to keep the Masquerade and blend in.
"I'm a teacher, actually," he blushed.
"Nothing wrong with that. Teachers are good people."
"I guess…it's just not the best job in the world."
"Don't you enjoy it?"
"Not all the time…students can be a real pain in the ass."
"Well," she reasoned, "if you don't enjoy it, why not quit? Find something better?"
"Can't afford to."
"I hear that…my job isn't all that rewarding." She smiled slightly…it was true. Being Keeper was not the best thing in the world.
"What do you do, then?"
"I, uh, work security for a private company."
"You? Security?" He looked her over. "Never would have guessed."
"Yeah," she frowned. "Well, appearances can be deceiving."
"Sorry, didn't mean to offend you…" he paused, looking around the rapidly filling bar. "Hey, you want to go talk somewhere else? It's getting crowded here, and I'm not exactly a people person."
Kim looked at her watch. She didn't have anywhere to be, but she had to keep up appearances. "Uh, sure. Why not."
She paid for her drink, leaving a tip on the bar top, and followed him out the back door to the parking lot. As soon as the door swung shut behind her, she felt splintering pain as something was shoved into her chest. She stumbled and fell to the ground, paralyzed. Staked.
"You did well, John," an accented voice remarked. A woman's voice.
"I try, Miss Sturluson."
"Yes, and you'll receive your payment."
As Kim watched—she couldn't close her eyes if she'd wanted to—the Toreador grabbed the man and pulled him against her, leaning in and claiming his neck. The man moaned in pleasure for a few minutes and then went still. Edda let his limp body fall to the ground and then crouched beside Kim.
"Ah yes…our wonderful Keeper. Am so sorry about having to do this."
She closed Kimberly's eyes and moved both bodies to the trunk of the waiting car.
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Thomas Wallace was making his rounds of the city. As Sheriff, he took his duties very seriously. He was the only Tremere holding a court position, after all.
"Damnit," he whispered as the phone rang.
He pulled over to a side of the road to answer. "Yes?"
"Where are you, Wallace?"
"Oh, hello, Your Grace. I'm near city hall, why?"
"Kimberly was supposed to m meet me. Never showed up. Find her."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up and pulled back out into the road. He had no idea where the Keeper would be. He didn't even know where she went to feed or where she havened. He made his way towards Brujah territory. Towards the club the Prince owned. It was as good a place as any to start. Second floor was the Kindred hang-out. No Kimberly there. He even checked the rant room. It wasn't the best idea. He stepped in and found two Toreador…and a stake in his own chest.
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Alice had retreated to her haven after the incident with Briggs. She was standing in the bathtub, letting the hot water of the shower stream down and cleanse her body. It wasn't much of a comfort—she would still feel dirty. Used. On the inside. Not much could be done to wash that away. Through the open bathroom door, over the rush of the running water, she heard her phone ringing. Forcing a sigh from her long-dead lungs, she turned off the water and wrapped her blue terrycloth robe around her, tying the belt around her slim waist. She made her way to the nearest phone—the one next to her bed—and picked up.
"What?" She snapped into the receiver.
"Alice…? Are you all right?"
"No, Adelle, I'm not fucking all right. What is it?"
"Um…" the Harpy was obviously taken aback. "Well, the Sheriff and Keeper are missing. Andrew asked me to call the other officers—and people he considers, uh, friends—to warn them that the shit has hit the fan as far as the Praxis goes."
"Fuckin' A. Thank you."
"What happened?"
"You don't want to know."
"Yes, I do. I consider you a friend too, Alice. You were fine before…before you went to meet with Spencer. Did he do something?"
"No. I don't want to talk about this right now, Adelle. Is there anything else you need?"
"When are you going to talk to Andrew?"
"I don't know."
"You're the only one he would turn the throne over to, Alice. My elder won't let him live if they have to fight over it."
"And your elder would accept me as a Prince?"
"You can easily manipulate him. You're a pretty woman. He's a Toreador. Beauty is our weakness."
"Right. I have to go. I'll talk to you later."
Without letting Adelle get another word in, Alice hung up and settled onto the edge of her bed, running a hand through her damp red hair. Manipulation through sex had always been one of her options. But she wasn't sure if she could be comfortable with that again. After what had happened.