Chapter Four: The kindred persuasion
Garrett slowly made his northwest, stopping to play in bars to keep him going.
In a large patch of wilderness in Kentucky, he made camp and attempted to enter the Umbra. He had done it before, now he would try again.
He camped out on a lake and concentrated on his reflection in the water. After achieving a state of mental calm, he reached into the water. To his surprise, it worked as he passed through the veil. The world took on a surreal sheen. He stood up and looked around.
There were a few spirits here and there, milling around the places they inhabited. Garret merely stood and watched them for awhile, marveling at the intricacy of it all. Everything in the physical world was represented in the Umbra and governed by a spirit. He began to wonder what his father would think if he could see this.
Hmm, how long has it been now, he thought to himself. It was long enough gone to be behind him now, but it was close enough to prey on his mind.
After a few hours and a few conversations, Garrett figured out how to part the veil between the worlds and return to the material plane. It wasn't as hard as he had previously thought. After a few days in solitude, he packed up and rode out.
Garrett ventured on through Ohio and Indiana. When he reached the city of Indianapolis, he decided it was time to showcase his talent again.
He rode around the city, his long black hair flowing in the light breeze, checking out the sights. The famous racetrack and tourist traps didn't interest him though; he was looking for places where he could make a buck or two. Since it was a fairly large city, he could hang out for a few days and play a few different places if his luck didn't run out.
It didn't take him long to find a promising venue. The neon sign labeled the place as the Club Spectrum and it advertised something for everyone. Satisfied, Garrett parked his bike out front and walked in the door, guitar case in hand.
Inside, the building appeared cavernous, magnified by its emptiness. Since it was still around 2 p.m., this wasn't much of a surprise. He asked around for the manager and discussed a gig after finding him. The manager explained that the owner made all decisions concerning musical talent and would be in sometime after dark. It looked fairly promising, so Garrett sat down and waited for the sun to go down.
As the sun sank low in the horizon, the place started to fill up. People from all walks of life showed up to share a drink and have a good time. The manager showed back up at Garrett's table about an hour after sundown and introduced him to the night manager. The man had a strange air about him, though he could not figure out why.
He was led up a set of stairs in the back of the building that had previously gone unnoticed. They came to a door and the man stopped.
"Mr. Witherow will see you now," the man said with a hint of arrogance as he opened the door. Garrett ignored it and stepped inside.
The office within was expansive and very tastefully decorated with expensive looking furniture. Garrett could see a man in the chair behind the desk facing away, staring out the window.
"Would you please sit down," the man said, not turning around.
Garrett did as he was told, taking a seat in front of the massive stone desk. Suddenly, his senses picked up a scent of corruption. Though it troubled him, he kept it to himself.
The man in the chair turned from the window toward Garrett. He appeared to be in his late twenties, his hair and suit both immaculate and tasteful. His expression was cheerful, but his complexion was pale, almost unhealthy. He took one look at Garrett and suddenly grew very uncomfortable. After a moment, he relaxed and spoke.
"The first question I usually ask people who want to play at my club is what they can offer in the form of entertainment, but that is not my first question for you," he said, sounding stern.
Garrett looked puzzled. "Then, what is the question?"
The man returned the look of confusion and spoke again. "My question for you, shifter, is what are you doing in my club and what are you trying to prove by being here?"
Garrett thought for a moment and replied. "Ah," he said as the light bulb came on in his head, "you must be a vampire. I've heard of your kind, but have never actually met one. My answer to you is simple: I came here looking for a gig, to entertain and possibly to earn a few bucks doing it. I'm not trying to prove anything and it is not my intention to cause trouble."
Garrett began to grow nervous. He soon realized they were not alone in the room. His eyes shifted left to right and realized two laser sights were trained on either side of his head. He hadn't even seen the gunmen when he walked into the room and couldn't see them now. He grew still. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. What had he gotten himself into?
"You now realize the consequence of your actions should you decide to do anything rash?" The kindred behind the desk asked, a smile widening on his pencil thin lips.
"I do," Garrett replied. "But I stand by what I said earlier. I'm just here to get a gig. I don't really give a shit about feuds and rivalries. I don't bother anyone who doesn't bother me."
"You give your word? Because you realize if you aren't being honest with me, I'll have your head vaporized." He snapped his fingers lightly. "Just like that …"
"My word is my bond," Garrett replied, growing more confident.
The vampire appeared intrigued and paused for a moment. Then he stood up. "Please excuse my manners," he said, extending his hand. "My name is Spencer, Spencer Witherow."
Garrett returned the hand shake and introduced himself. The two sat back down.
"So, you're not a werewolf are you?" Spencer asked. "Because all the werewolves I have ever seen aren't much more than mindless killing machines. They try to kill us on sight, you know. We have a habit of doing the same."
"No," Garrett said. "As a matter of fact, I am Bastet, a puma to be more specific."
Spencer thought on this for a moment and then continued with the conversation. "Well, Mr. Rainbird, let's see what you can offer my club."
Garrett nodded and opened up his case. He pulled out his guitar and gave it a quick tune. Then he strummed into one of his songs, a deep, churning melody about life on the road. After finishing, he stopped and looked up at the vampire.
"That was good," he said. "Let me hear another."
Garrett complied and broke off into another tune, this one a song with a driving rhythm about the Mother Goddess. His music evoked energy from the air around him which surrounded him in an invisible whirlwind as he played and sang. When he finished, he sat the guitar down and spoke. "So, what do you think?"
"Do you have enough material to encompass two full sets?"
Garrett nodded.
Spencer smiled and said, "I think you just landed yourself a gig, Mr. Rainbird, but there is one catch. You seem like a nice guy and not out on some clandestine mission or anything, but just in case, there will be other kindred or vampires if you will, at the club when you play. If you try anything fishy or shift or start anything in my club, trust that you will have a slow, agonizing death as compared to the quick, painless one you just managed to avoid."
Garrett smiled. "I guess that's fair enough. So when do I play?"
"Well, it's a little late for tonight," Spencer said. "I'll put you on the third floor for tomorrow night. Be here at 7 p.m. sharp to get set up. You'll go on at eight o'clock."
He thanked Spencer for the job and excused himself from the office. Thankfully, his unseen guards had lowered their sights, sparing him for the time being. He decided to head up to the third floor to check it out. He wanted to see what kind of talent was there now and get a feel for the crowd. This would help him decide what to play.
The third floor club was laid out with ambience in mind. There was a small stage in the corner for a musician or someone reading poetry and a bar tucked away on the adjacent wall. Everywhere else, there were tables and chairs. No dance floor, no disco ball, just tables and chairs.
He found a table near the stage and ordered a drink. Tonight's talent hadn't taken the stage yet, so he kicked back and relaxed. The room was sparsely filled here and there with younger men and women, mostly in their twenties from the look of it. Aside from the regular people, there were also a few vampires in the room, most of which had either given or were still giving Garrett a weird look. He returned their glances, gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and continued to sit, occasionally sipping his coke, since his charm had failed to get him a beer.
At around 8 p.m., the talent for the night stepped onto the stage. He was a spindly looking young man with an unkempt mop of dirty blonde hair. He pulled up a stool, plugged in his acoustic/electric guitar and commenced to play. He was okay, but nothing to write home about, Garrett thought. He continued to sip his drink and listen, contented for the moment.
After the kid on stage got about halfway through his set, a vampire took a seat at Garrett's table.
"So, what do you think about the guy on stage?" he asked. He appeared to be in his early to mid twenties with ice blue eyes and light blonde hair. He was dressed head to toe in black, which accentuated his light features.
Garrett looked over at the man at his table. "He's not terrible, but his material could use a little work."
The vampire smiled. "A kind review, no doubt." He looked over at Garrett. "Perhaps it was a little too kind?"
Garrett smiled back at the vampire. "Okay, you got me. This guy pretty much sucks." He said that just in time to hear the kid miss a chord and fill the room with dissonance for a moment before righting himself. The two shared a laugh.
"Let me introduce myself," the vampire said. "I'm Daniel Spinner of the clan Toreador."
"Garrett Rainbird of the tribe Pumonca," he said as he shook Daniel's hand.
Spinner hesitated for a moment, appearing startled by Garrett's apathetic admission of his true nature. He looked at the shifter sitting beside him and spoke. "You know, there are quite a few people in here who are wondering why you're not already dead."
Garrett replied. "I'm not here to start trouble. I just came looking for a gig. Once I was able to make that point clear to Mr. Witherow and convince him that I meant what I said, he gave me one, tomorrow night."
Daniel laughed. "A shifter starting trouble in a kindred establishment would have swift and fatal consequences. But listen: I know a place a few blocks over where we can listen to some real music. You could play there tonight. It's an open mic thing."
"Sounds like an idea," Garrett said. "I'd like to get out and play a little."
"Splendid," Daniel said. "You have your own wheels?"
Garrett nodded. "I'll follow you out there."
"You're not going to kill me as soon as we leave here are you?" the vampire asked, making a nervous joke.
"Not hardly."
The vampire and the Bastet made their way out of the club and over to an all-night coffee shop called the Red Bean. Daniel told Garrett the place was owned by a man named Freddie Larkin, a Malkavian with a real thing for coffee. Not knowing what he was talking about, Garrett just smiled and nodded.
Daniel stopped him at the door and explained that he would go in first and let them know about Garrett, so no one would react in a hostile manner. After a few minutes, he came back out and motioned for Garrett to come inside.
"I told them you were cool, so do me a favor and just be cool," Daniel said. "There are a few folks in here that would just as soon kill you as look at you, so just try not to start any fights. You give them the slightest hint of an excuse and your head will roll out the door, most likely not attached to your shoulders."
Garrett nodded and they entered the building.
Walking through the front doors revealed a dark smoky main area, not befitting a normal coffee house. It looked more like a jazz club. A stage was situated on the back wall with one blue spot light illuminating it. Other than candles on the tables and at the bar, this was the only light in the room. There was a slender young woman on stage, babbling off random bits of poetry, talking about how the modern age was coming to an end. Her frazzled pink hair was in corn row braids. She looked stoned on something.
The two found a table near the stage and sat down. Garrett ordered an espresso and settled in, refusing to let about a dozen hostile glances faze him. After the woman stepped down from the stage to a handful of applause, Garrett got ready to play. If he couldn't win them over with music then he wasn't going to win them over at all, he thought as he slung his guitar over his shoulder and basked in the dull blue glow, adjusting the microphones.
Before he started playing, Garrett introduced himself and addressed the crowd. "Let me just say this," he said. "I don't care about what you are, so don't care about what I am. We're all here to have a good time, so let's do just that."
Having said his piece, he tore off into some old delta blues, projecting the souls of the destitute and downtrodden. He went on to bring a lighter note, playing songs from his own repartee. All in all, he played for over half an hour. The first few songs brought sparse, hesitant applause, but by the time he stepped off the stage, majority of the crowd was eating out of his hand.
There were still a few sour faces in the crowd, but some was better than all.
He put up his guitar and took a seat again with Daniel. He looked over at him in the darkness.
"So, how was that?" Garrett asked, "Better than that guy over at the Spectrum?"
Daniel chuckled. "Do you even have to ask?"
The stage remained empty for a few minutes while the patrons chatted amongst themselves and sipped coffee … well … some of them were sipping coffee.
Then she appeared. Garrett couldn't help but stare as she stood up from a table in the back. He could hardly even see her in the darkness, but he couldn't help but keep his eyes locked on her. When she stepped onto the stage and in the blue light, Garrett got his first good look at her. She wore a white evening gown that tapered at her knees. Her long brown hair shimmered in the sparse light and her gray eyes pierced the darkness, right through his. She was Aphrodite on the stage, a vision of near perfect beauty.
Garrett came out of the trance long enough to ask Daniel who she was. He told him that her name was Katarina VanDressel, but more he did not know.
Then she opened her mouth and started to sing. Garrett was awestruck, for the moment not able to believe that such a sound could come from a human voice. Then he realized it wasn't a human voice, but a vampire's. She sang the song in Italian, and even though Garrett could not understand her words, he came to the verge of tears from the heart-breaking melody.
She closed the song to thunderous applause, overshadowing all other acts that evening. She sauntered off the stage and made her way gracefully to Garrett's table.
"Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked with an accent that couldn't be placed. Garrett turned toward Daniel to make sure she wasn't talking to him, but he was gone.
"Be my guest," Garrett said with a smile as he stood up and pulled out a chair, the perfect gentleman. She smiled and sat down. For the next four hours they conversed, talking about music and critiquing the other acts on the stage. Garrett was smitten despite his better judgment. She was just too beautiful to deny, in both appearance and in manner.
As the night dragged on into the early hours of the morning, she suggested they leave. She asked Garrett if he would give her a ride home. He obliged and took her to his motorcycle and off they went.
The drive took them only a few blocks before she instructed him to park, near a set of apartment buildings. He did and they set out walking toward them. He noticed two men who appeared to be following them. It wasn't long before the caught up and barred their way. They were dressed in black leather and looked like scrappers.
The larger of the two men spoke. "You're coming with us Katarina," he said in a gruff voice. "Terrence would like an audience with you."
The man sounded like he was reading from cue cards. Katarina rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "You're not taking me anywhere, Rex," she said curtly. "I told Terrence that I wasn't interested in him or his advances and now he wants to act like a spoiled child, sending you to come get me so he can try his hand again."
Rex appeared to be insulted and took a step forward. Katarina stood her ground, refusing to show a sign of weakness.
Garrett was very confused. He didn't know what was going on or who these people were, but he wasn't going to stand for someone trying to bully a woman around. The fact that she was a vampire didn't matter. He was pissed.
"Hey," Garrett interjected to the two goons. "She told you she wasn't interested. Take a hint and leave."
Both of them puffed up at this. "So, Katarina, what does your little plaything possibly think he can do to us?" Rex turned toward Garrett. "Trust me, boy. You don't want any of this."
Katarina took a step back toward Garrett. "Don't kill them, but do give them something to think about," she whispered in his ear. He looked toward her, nodded and removed his long trench coat. He also took off his boots, much to the amusement of the two vampires standing in front of him, ready to fight. She gave him a wink which he returned.
Rex turned to his accomplice. "What do you think, Dave? Should we pound him into the concrete or just rearrange his face?" The two shared a chuckle and advanced, intending to make Garrett's life very miserable.
He smiled at them and then shifted up to crinos. Their expressions changed from amused to gravely serious in the blink of an eye as they stepped back. Katarina smiled at the two of them as she took a step back from the eight foot half-man, half-mountain lion looming over them.
"He's a shifter!" Rex exclaimed. "What the fuck, Katarina?"
She only smiled, standing still and silent as a Greek statue.
Rex and his companion sized up the Bastet in front of them. Rex drew two long blades from his coat, while Dave drew a couple iron bars. After a brief stand off, the two lunged forward.
Garrett was waiting for this. He dropped low and gave Rex a swift, hard kick in the ribs, sending him sailing across the parking lot, breaking his fall in the back windshield of a Toyota Camry.
Dave quickly closed in to Garrett's rear, bashing him in the back of the head with an iron bar. Garrett winced at the pain and spun around, grasping the hand that held the now bent iron bar and flung the vampire into the air. He reached an altitude of about thirty feet before falling, flailing wildly to the pavement below. He never hit the pavement, however. A hard forearm strike from the crinos Pumonca embedded his broken body into the doorframe of the same car that Rex had impacted.
Garrett crouched, ready for another attack. Rex managed to pull himself free of the car and charged forward. He slashed at Garrett, drawing blood across his arm. The cut ran deep enough to nick the bone. Garrett grabbed the arm that cut him. There was a sickening crunching sound as bones snapped. Rex screamed in pain, dropping the knife from his useless hand. Not letting up, Garrett twisted the injured limb backward, snapping the bone in his upper arm as well. He howled in pain again.
"Now, pry your friend out of that car and leave me alone," Katarina said. "Tell Terrence once again that I am not interested in him and there will be further repercussions for any more incidents like this."
Rex nodded and Garrett let go of his mangled arm. He ran over and pulled Dave out of the car with his functional arm, then ran away into the darkness.
Garrett paused for a moment, letting the wound heal itself. He picked up his coat and draped it over him before shifting down to homid again. He tied the belt around his coat, put his shoes on and turned to Katarina. She smiled at him.
"Shall we be off then?" she asked, sounding incredibly seductive. Garrett nodded and accompanied her to her apartment.
The interior of the residence reflected the cutting edge of trend and fashion, not the old world decorating that he expected. Garrett sat down in a chair and made himself comfortable. He noticed that all the windows were covered in thick black fabric, preventing even the tiniest amount of light from entering the room.
She sat in a chair across from him and smiled. "It might be best for you to stay here until sunrise," she said plainly. "They will probably be hunting you in larger numbers."
Garrett grew uneasy. "What can I do? Is this going to mess up my gig tomorrow night?"
She threw up a hand lightly. "Don't worry about that. I'll talk to the Prince and the Sheriff and explain the situation. I can get this swept under the rug quite easily. So you have nothing to worry about when you show up for your performance tomorrow night."
Garrett grew very confused. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about and made it clear. He spent the rest of the night learning about kindred, their politics and the different clans. She explained that Terrence was in fact, the Brujah primogen and had become quite infatuated with her. He also told her about himself, his life and his hopes for a musical career one day.
Just before sunrise, she thanked him for his company and protection, and retired to her bedroom. Garrett remained in the living room, making sure the sun was up before lying down to get a little sleep.
He woke up around midday and went out to his bike to get some clothes. He came back up to the apartment, showered, got dressed and set out into the city.
The rest of the day was spent pondering all the things that had happened to him the previous night. The day before, he had never even seen a vampire, now he had met a few, fought a few and spent the night with one. It was a lot to ponder.
The sun gradually began to sink in the sky, so he went to the Spectrum Club. He figured if Katarina woke up late, he would be safer there than on the streets. He went up to the third floor, sat his guitar on the stage and ordered a drink. There he remained for a few hours. After sundown, Spencer arrived, saw that Garrett was already there and conversed with him for a moment. Garrett explained what had happened the night before and that it was supposed to be getting taken care of. Spencer was concerned but confident that everything would work out. Before taking his leave, he reminded Garrett about the rules he would have to follow while in the club.
When seven o'clock rolled around, Katarina appeared on the third floor. She walked over to Garrett's table and sat down.
"I talked to the Prince," she said. "You're off the hook."
Garrett drew a noticeable sigh of relief and thanked her.
"No," she said. "It is I who need to thank you. If you wouldn't have been there last night, I would have been accosted and thoroughly annoyed for the rest of the evening. If it's one thing most Brujah lack, it's manners."
The hour passed quickly and it was time for him to take the stage. He was feeling very good that evening and it showed in his performance. With his music, he commanded the attention of everyone in the room. They hung on his every verse and applauded every song. After nearly two hours and the last encore, he stepped off the stage feeling almost like a god, basking in the praise and adoration of the room. It seemed like everyone wanted to come up and congratulate him on his performance.
Katarina sat at the table with a coy smile on her face. She complimented his performance and gave him a slip of paper. It had a phone number on it that she advised him to call tomorrow. Not thinking anything of it, he thanked her and slipped it in his pocket.
Spencer also complimented Garrett's performance, handing him his wage. It contained one thousand dollars. Garrett couldn't believe it; this was much more than he had ever been paid for a gig. He thanked Spencer and sat back down with a glass of bourbon on the house.
The rest of the night was spent with Katarina, talking and learning more about a world he hadn't even believed existed less than a year ago.
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Garrett awoke the next day on her couch and set out for another town and another gig. He wrote a note saying he would keep in touch and left it on her table before leaving the apartment.
On the outskirts of Indianapolis, he remembered the phone number that had been given to him earlier, so he stopped at a pay phone and dialed it.
The phone rang once and was answered almost immediately.
"Mercer talent agency, how may I direct your call?"
Garrett was too bewildered to talk for a moment. Then he collected himself and answered. "Yes, my name is Garrett Rainbird. I am calling on behalf of Miss Katarina VanDressel, who gave me this number and told me to …"
"Just one moment sir," the receptionist said as his call was transferred.
"Tony Rollins," a man said on the other side of the receiver.
Garrett introduced himself and explained how he had gotten the number.
"Oh yeah, she called me last night and told me about you," Tony said. "It appears that you're not going to have to wander from bar to bar looking for work anymore. We're going to find venues for you. Mr. Rainbird, you now have yourself an agent."