A/N: Here's chapter forty-one! I think the theme of this chapter is deceit...Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Bloodlines, but I do own my OCs.
"Has she finished with her tantrum yet?" Iphigenia's steps sounded clear and smooth on the craggy floors of the Nosferatu warrens.
Cressida was seated in a folding chair outside the doorway to her 'bedroom', which was more of a prison now than anything else. "I didn't agree to work for you to be your babysitter."
"I could really get used to this." She said, sliding a hand down from her rear to her thigh, "The girl isn't gorgeous but she has a body made for something."
"She's quieted down now. She has been quiet for the past couple of hours now."
"Oh, really?" Iphigenia asked, "Is she still alive?"
"I have no idea."
"That was your job, Cressida." She grumbled lowly, shrinking a few inches as she transformed into Gary, "Well, she'll be dead in the next few nights regardless." He opened the door and slammed it shut behind him. The light poured in briefly, then was clamped out.
In the darkness of the room, he couldn't see a thing, until her bright gaze opened. Her eyes were bloodshot, but they shone with all the light they could. Gary grinned, "Hello Iggy. Hanging in there?" He cackled, flipping the light on.
She hissed and looked away, her claws and mouth covered in blood. It trickled down her arms from the nails there, down her feet from her ankles where she was once suspended. One of her ears looked as if it had been hacked off.
Gary sniggered, "You bring out the sadist in me, Iggy. Just when I thought I didn't need any help, you're here to remind me…"
She kept her eyes closed and her head pointed to the ground, "It's one thing to do this to a Toreador. Another to do it to a clan just as isolated as yours."
"Nonsense. You're more fun than any Toreador." He said, "They all say the same thing, they're all so concerned about their vanity, the people around them. You're fun because all you care about is your life, and that's already a joke!"
She looked up and glared at him, "It's a miracle you haven't been caught yet. They'll be down here any minute. I might not be the Tremere Magister, but apprentices don't grow on trees."
"Hmm?" He asked, cocking his head to the side, "Funny you mention the Magister."
"Why?" She asked through clenched teeth.
"Because he feels oh so terrible about what he's done and said."
She laughed.
He crossed his arms, "What's so funny? I don't think you would ever have the courage to laugh in the face of your Magister like that."
"It's not him I'm laughing at. It's you. He would never say that. He has no regrets. He thinks out every action and word he speaks, any consequence is just an effect, something he expected. He would never need to apologize because nothing he does is wrong, to him. You're bluffing."
"Smart words for someone who's frenzied what, four times by now?"
"Maybe give me some goddamn blood and I'll be even brighter."
"I like you like this. Dumb and hanging from two giant sticks." He reached out to touch her chin and she lunged forward to bite his finger. It made him smile, "Have you had time to really reflect?"
"I've had plenty. I think I hate the Nosferatu more than the Sabbat."
"Oh, really? After all they did to you?"
"At least they were honest, straightforward! They never lied or tricked anyone. If they said they were going to kill you, they meant it. They were never gray, it was black and white!"
"I find that horribly ironic coming from your lips." When she snarled, he shrugged, "What, I mean it! You're the master of deceit! Dressing up like a man to earn more money, riding my coattails to the Embrace and jumping off onto the Tremere-express last minute. And let's not even talk about your littlest sister."
"I can proudly say I've never staked anyone to a cross and hid them in a hole underground until they rotted alive…"
He clapped slowly, "Bravo, Iggy. Your standards are as low as ever."
"Silence!" She demanded, her eyes buggy, "Either let me go or kill me now!"
"I am going to let you go, so long as you behave." Those words silenced her, "Your Magister needs to speak with you. So I'm letting you go."
"How do you know he needs to speak with me?"
"Because I saw him in a Primogen meeting?" He said, "He was chatting all about it. He and the Prince are clearly concerned about your whereabouts."
"And how can I be sure you're not lying?"
"Lying about what?" He was growing irritated.
"About…him…it's not like him to apologize…"
"Well, this is all secondhand, you know." He said, "I'm not entirely sure he wants to apologize. Maybe he wants to tell you what his favorite type of flower is. I heard him tell the Prince he needed to see you and make things right. Whatever that means, I'm not so sure." He shrugged, "In my books, that's an apology."
She stared at the floors, bloody tears tumbling down her cheeks, "I'm the one who needs to apologize…I've let it all go to my head…I want to go back more than anything else…"
"Oh, you poor thing." He stepped forward, "Hold onto that post and I'll let you go."
Her eyes were scared and excited at the same time. She slowly retched her hands back and clasped onto the wooden frames behind them to the best of her ability. He grabbed the nail, gritting his teeth as he pulled and pulled. She looked away and kept her eyes shut, not making a peep.
"That Malkavian really…needs to loosen some of his screws…" He grunted, "Get it?"
"Hurry up, please."
One last tug and it was out. "Phew." He wiped his brow with the back of his hand, "We need some Brujah strength down here to get these boys! Who should we call? Smiling Jack, Nines Rodriguez? I keep calling them to join my dinner parties lately and they're just not showing up!" He pulled the other one out with a little more luck, "Seems like they're just, blowing me off!" He snorted, "Get it Iggy?"
She was on her knees, her legs too weak to stand, "Do…do you think you could help me stand…?"
"I'll think about it." He stood there for a second, "I've decided not to."
She turned around and grabbed onto the post, using it to crawl up, then she slowly applied weight to her feet, hissing in discomfort with each step, "I hope I never have to see your face again."
"Yes, I agree." He said, then he paused, "Cressida, fetch her some blood, hose her down, too. We can't have her going to the Chantry looking like that."
"I'll…shower on my way back…" She raised a hand, looking from left to right, wondering where the hell the way out was.
"Why don't I escort you?" He offered with a grin.
"I'll do it myself." She muttered, leaning against the wall as she headed down one of the tunnels.
Gary sighed, a proud sigh, "See that she gets out alright, before the sun rises."
"You're kidding me." Cressida said, "You told me she'd be dead in the next few hours."
"She will. But it isn't about when she dies. It's about how. And that, my dear, is going to be the newest and most exciting mass of festivities on this side of L.A…"
Bright lights and white, sterile equipment was all the eye could see for a moment, before he caught sight of the dark skin of a nurse inserting an IV. His mind dragged behind, so he stared at her dumbly, trying to get words to come out of his mouth without avail.
Her eyes squinted as she smiled, "Are you waking up?"
That was a dumb question. Whatever anesthesia they'd put him on was absolutely perfect for knocking him out, not so ideal for conversation. His head rocked back against the stiff headboard, staring up at the ceiling. All he could do was grunt.
"Are you in any pain?"
Of course he wasn't. He couldn't even voluntarily move, let alone feel pain. He imagined this is what a coma patient felt like, or a vampire who'd been staked.
"I'm going to go get the surgeon, alright?" She said, her voice fit her profession well, because it was rather soothing and calming, "You stay right there. If something goes wrong, don't worry, we have the monitors hooked up and ready to go.
He let his eyes close as he took in the feeling of nothing. It was rather odd, not feeling an ounce of pain. He was used to stiff muscles, a sore back, aching joints. It wasn't as if his current status made him feel younger, it just made him feel dead.
His hand twitched. He slowly forced his eyelids to open, watching the spasm. And then, he reclaimed feeling in the palm of his hand. It slowly spread to his fingers, which felt cold. The temperature in here was cooler than he was used to.
He slid his eyes over to the window very slowly. Even his pupils were reluctant. A thought would go through and hit a wall, leaving a smudge there before it was finally interpreted to a motion and acted out in a half-assed attempt.
Trees. Trees, trees outside. Where was he? Not in L.A., not that type of tree. He'd been moved somewhere, somewhere expensive, judging by the looks of the place. He was sure it was somewhere in California, not so sure about any other circumstances.
He played Jyhad so well, he never figured he'd have to be in such a human place and explain such a non-human phenomenon.
His neck tingled into awareness, as did his upper torso. His other hand started waking up too, and then a man strode in. He seemed young, lanky, oily but clean. "Ah, my newest and most favorite patient." His smile was all teeth, "How are you feeling?"
He slowly opened his mouth, it felt so incredibly dry. It was almost embarrassing, trying to work up enough saliva to actually speak. Finally he grunted out, "Great."
The surgeon chuckled, avoiding eye contact long ago and leaning in, investigating his work. He tried to remember what he'd done to get here in the first place.
"Does it hurt?" The surgeon asked.
"My leg?" He asked, "I can't feel anything yet…"
"You might not feel anything at all." The doctor said, "The surgery went without a hitch, which…surprised me, if you want my honest opinion." He chuckled, "I suppose I should really explain what we did."
"Pulled the bullet out, right?" Archie guessed, "Repaired the vein?"
"I'm afraid your condition was…a little worse than that." He said, "We had to amputate."
Archie's eyes widened, his mouth stayed open. He then looked down, trying to sit up and look at his now missing leg.
"Please, sit back, we don't want to disturb anything." He urged, "You'll be just fine. It was removed from the top of the knee down. The surgeon from the first surgery…well, he wasn't as proficient as we are here. His tools were unsterile and there was an infection. No less, he damaged nerves near the area…it was best for us to just remove the leg in general."
"First surgery…" He asked, "What first surgery?"
"You were initially operated on in the back of the truck. Your vitals were falling too fast. After the, uh…failure, for lack of a better term, you were taken here. It was enough to save your life, not enough to save the leg."
That damn brat took his apartment, took his money and took his leg. Oh, he'd pay. "…Christ almighty…"
The surgeon chuckled softly, "Really, the surgery here went so well, I'd like to call you my Mona Lisa. I don't think I've ever performed anything as perfectly as I performed this one." He approached a clipboard on the table beside him and flipped through. He seemed a little concerned, "This…can't be correct…"
His gray eyes flickered up towards the surgeon.
"They used this much anesthetic on you?"
He wasn't going to beat around the bush. "I have a high tolerance."
The surgeon seemed a little concerned, "Tolerance for anesthetic?"
"Tolerance for anything."
He adjusted his tie and gave an awkward sigh, "Alright…well…it'll take a while for that to…to exit the system, then. They'll have to flush it out with fluids or…something. That…that dosage is almost twice the lethal dose…"
He found that amusing, "Interesting."
"I'll send the nurses back in, I have another patient to tend to." He said, heading back into the hallways.
It took much less time for the nurse to come in. He was still in a partial state of shock, wondering how he was going to explain this to the Sabbat, let alone his sudden absence. He was sure they chalked him up as dead already.
He briefly contemplated whether they even needed a ghoul there in the first place, but the thought died quickly. It was a foolish thing to fear.
A new nurse came in, "Hi." She smiled, "How are you, Mister Fitzroy?"
"Fine." He watched her walk in, she seemed immediately nervous around his predatory look. He spoke as she looked over his charts. "This leg of mine. Or lack thereof. What are my options?"
"Your options?" She asked, "Well, it depends on what you can afford…Your insurance—"
"I can afford anything. What are my options?"
She nervously looked down, "Well, you could either settle for a wheel chair, if you have a wife or…next of kin to wheel you around."
He snorted. It must have been the engagement ring and golden band on his left ring finger. "What else?"
"We could…try a prosthetic. Now, even within those, there are trials. Betas, untested prototypes. And then there are basic, guaranteed models that are much simpler…it all depends on what you would want."
A prosthetic. He felt a little foolish for asking, "Remind me again, dear, a prosthetic, that's a metal replacement, yes?"
"Um…well, yes, it's a manufactured replacement. But, nowadays, they're much better. They're made of both silicone and metals, so they're sturdy and comfortable. It really depends on the model." She said, then added, "And they're custom made, of course, to fit the patient. That is, the more expensive options."
He rested his head back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. It felt silly to be so attached to something like a leg, a limb, but it had been there for him for how many years? He'd taken it for granted for how long? Maybe the drugs were making him loopy.
She continued, "There are models that are more…more about function, and some that are more about looks. You know, some that look like a leg or some that just…look like a prosthetic." She jotted something down on the clipboard, rambling a bit, "It really isn't anything to be ashamed of. People always look at others who have handicaps like they're defects, like they're broken, but I think it shows just how strong and resilient we are." She put the clipboard down, "Especially in your case. They said you were dead for eight seconds. No heartbeat, no breathing, nothing. And then they pulled you back…" Her eyes were dark pools of chocolate, "I know I shouldn't ask this, it's not appropriate but…did you see angels…?"
Archie couldn't help but snicker. "Angels…" He repeated to himself, "Sweetheart, it was pitch black as soon as they put me in the back of that hospital truck. And if it wasn't, then I can't remember it."
She seemed genuinely discouraged, "R-Right…I'm sorry, please forgive me for asking…" When he didn't respond, she set the clipboard back on the table, "So, what…what exactly happened? I heard it was a gunshot wound…"
"That's right."
She looked back up at him, "Were you in a fight?"
"What is this, a police investigation?" He teased.
"Well," She played with the hem of her scrubs, "Funny you ask that. After your recovery, you are expected for an interview."
"Of course." He rolled his eyes, "As expected."
"You don't have to tell me anything, I'm just…I'm just curious."
"It's far too much to explain. I'd bore you." He lied, "I'm sure there's another patient somewhere who needs more treatment than I do."
"Well, I have to make sure you're comfortable first." She said, "Can I get you a new pillow? More sheets, less sheets? Do you want me to help you turn on your side or something? You've been laying like that for a while…"
As much as he wanted to feel her little hands all over him, he decided against it. He wanted to heal as fast as possible and something about moving around a lot sounded like an invitation for disturbance. "I'm fine. Whatever they doped me up on is working its magic."
"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"
He craned his neck slowly to look up at the IVs beside him, "Anything I need are in those bags."
"Do you want me to see if we can get a TV cart in here?"
"I'm fine."
"Okay." She gave a smile, her shoulders drooping as she stepped closer, adjusting his blankets anyway, "You're making my job very difficult. I get paid for this, you know. It isn't asking for much."
He snickered, listening to her tug on the sheets, feeling the pillow beneath his shoulders get poked and prodded a few times, "Are you sure you're comfortable?"
"Yes. I'm fine."
"Alright…I'll be back in half an hour, okay?" She asked, "Press this little button here if you need anything."
"I understand." He said, listening to her footsteps as she padded out of the room and down the hall.
Dead for eight seconds, and he couldn't remember a thing. He supposed Kindred were dead too, and it wasn't like they experienced anything different than he did.
And then he remembered something. A taste of a dream perhaps, some sort of mental image. He didn't know where it came from, but something about it felt recent. It happened so long ago, but for him to remember it now, he must have dreamt of it recently.
He stepped into the foyer, the lights off, but a distant glow down the hall. It had been a while since he had been here. When he was younger, even by just a few years, he remembered the place smelling less like shit and strange chemicals and more like cologne and smoke.
Without fail, his hands found the light switch, and he almost jumped when he saw a small boy standing in the doorway. For sure, if he kept walking, he would have bunted the child across the hall.
He'd grown a lot in such a short span. His hair was blond but had the same thickness of Archie's, his eyes held the same intense stare. It set something off in his chest, seeing a small human standing in front of him, staring him down like a feral dog. The last time he saw the thing, it was in a blanket, screaming its head off. And here he stood, a real boy, a real person. Not so much a baby, a thing anymore. An actual person. He shrugged the thought off. If he got attached to the kid, he'd die. It wasn't worth it.
He strode forward despite the boy's surprisingly menacing glare, pressing his hand against the top of his skull and heading towards the staircase.
The boy snapped, screamed, "Mama! Mama!"
The hairs on the back of Archie's neck stood up, "Pipe down, you brat." He spat. The boy cowered, the guard dog melted into a puppy within a heartbeat. His eyes watered and he started to cry. Archie's scowl probably didn't help.
And then she came down the stairs. Strangely ethereal, her skin practically glowed. And yet she looked terrible. Her ratty tank top which was his a few years ago, so were the briefs she was in. Her hips were wider, her breasts looser, her stomach wider. Her cheeks were fuller and her eyes were duller. Her hair spiraled down her back in a fashion that still managed to catch his eye.
They looked each other over for a long time, the cries of a toddler served as the background music for the romantic reunion. He didn't even look at the newborn in her arms with a bubble of drool in the corner of its mouth.
Her eyes overflowed like her son's, only one side managed to leak down her cheek, "Where the hell were you?" Her voice was weak.
"What is that?" He looked at the baby in her arms.
"What do you think it is?" She spat.
The toddler ran over, his face red from screaming without results. He grabbed onto his mother's leg and pounded at her with tiny fists. She struggled to remain balanced.
He wasn't quite sure what to think. He stared at the little human, then looked back up at her, "Who's is it?"
Her jaw dropped, like the question he asked was that incredibly stupid. He thought it was logical. The back of her hand met his cheek, the sound quieted the small child at her leg in an instant.
Archie's eyes lit up with fury. He turned to her, 'The fuck was that?' written on his face but not spoken in words.
"It's yours." She thrusted her arms out, the baby jolted from its safe and warm dream, heavy head clonking into his chest. He hardly caught the thing before she let go.
His? His? The boy was his. Not this, this thing. There was no way she got pregnant again. "This isn't mine. I had a condom."
Not exactly the right thing to say. "You had a fucking condom, huh? What about the night before that? The morning after?" He scratched the back of his neck. "And yes, I was on the fucking pill."
"What's the big deal?" He held the infant like a loaf of bread in one arm. It didn't like that and started moaning in a tiny voice. "You're a woman, you're made for this."
"I'm made for this?" She gasped, "You son of a bitch!"
"Am I wrong?" He smiled, "Wasn't this what you wanted when you quit working for me?"
She pushed herself away from him, "No. No, I'm done putting up with your bullshit!" She screamed, "You're neurotic! You're going to kill me!"
"Winnie. I wouldn't dream of it."
"No, no, no!" She screeched. Archie flinched when he felt the toddler grab onto his leg, but the boy wasn't angry. He was scared. He was hiding behind him. "I'm done! You take them both, they're yours, they're not mine!"
"They came out of you."
"And they came from you too, you bastard!"
"How am I supposed to know that? You could be lying to me. Anyone could have knocked you up. I'm a hell of a lot safer than any of the other clients I signed you away to."
She grit her teeth, "You don't need to do a fucking blood test to see the results. God, just look at him!" She pointed to the rug rat at his leg, "He looks just like you!"
"He looks nothing like me." The woman had a point, but if he had the chance to drop both, he'd take all he could get.
She gave a stout laugh, "I'm gonna fucking hang myself…" She brooded, "I'll slit my wrists and jump in the tub…god, I'll just jump off the fucking building, then what?" She looked at him with a crazed smile, "They'll be all yours, won't they?"
"These kids aren't mine, Winnie, I don't care what you say." He insisted, "Unlike you, I work. I deal with bullshit you couldn't believe out there, I make money to feed your hungry whore-mouth and your whore-children, and for what? You can't even handle that? You can't handle being kept in a safe place with a working shower, a full refrigerator and an extra pocket of cash? You can't even be grateful!"
"You're absolutely insane…" Her voice was low and deranged, "This isn't a life, raising your fucking kids without you…"
"They aren't mine!" He grit his teeth.
The child in his arm screamed as he squeezed it a little too tight. He flinched and looked down at it, holding it with both arms.
Winnie turned away, her eyes leaking as she sobbed into her hands. The boy shuddered and wiped his tears and nose on Archie's pants, but he was too angry to do anything about it. The baby opened its eyes, they were as fiery as Winnie's.
"Lark…"
"What?" He looked up at his wife, "What did you say?"
"Lark…it's…it's her name." Her chest shuddered, "I named her Lark. Lark and Killian…"
"The hell kind of name is that?"
She reached forward and grabbed Killian's arm, pulling him away from his father, "I want you to make a fucking choice already. Either take your things and get out, or stay here for more than three goddamn hours."
"You know I have work."
"I know, you have work, I'm not a fucking idiot, Archie!" Killian looked like he'd rather stand with his somewhat collected father, rather than be held back by his shaking and psychotic mother. "That doesn't mean you have to be out at all hours of the night and day, leaving me here alone!"
"I know you're not alone." He grunted, "You have Susan."
"I don't have Susan because she's dead!"
Archie looked away, then looked back at the baby in his arms, "Take this thing. I came to find her."
"Maybe if you fucking kill yourself, you'll find her in hell."
He snorted, then turned away, "I'll see you when there are bills to pay."
"Don't you fucking leave."
"Goodnight, Winnie."
"Archie, I swear to god!"
That was the last night he saw her. He remembered the following morning, hungover, where he walked back into the apartment. It was that little nagging voice in the back of his head that told him to come back. Told him he forgot something there. Told him he should pick up some cash there for dinner with new potential clients.
When he walked in, the last thing he was expecting to see was his little blond son with his hands covered in blood, asking why his Mommy was napping in a tub of fruit punch.
She'd gotten what she wanted, hadn't she? She got him to be responsible for the kids.
In a way, maybe it was all her fault. He never blamed himself from the beginning. Archie rarely blamed anyone for the way everything was, he distributed it evenly. But was it really so much his fault that she killed herself? There were plenty of single mothers in worse conditions who tenderly cared for their children no matter what.
He might have been 'psychotic', as Killian called him, but he wasn't going to die when his kids still needed him.
"Sister?" Halcyon watched as Iphigenia opened the door and shut it, taking a deep breath in through her nose before she stepped forward and hugged her littler sister.
"I missed you…"
Halcyon looked up at her with worried eyes, "You were gone for only a night…"
Iphigenia chuckled softly, "I'll try not to take offense to that." She shuddered, "I need to shower. Where's Harmonia."
"…up the floor…" Halcyon still sounded very confused, "Why are you covered in stains? And where did your ear go?"
"The Nosferatu." She growled, "They pegged me on a cross and beat me to submission…"
Halcyon didn't look shocked, like she should have. She looked confused, "But you were here, just last night."
"What? No I wasn't."
"Yes, you were! I told you to shower before you trolled off to the Chantry!"
"Halcyon, that didn't happen." She sighed, "You're losing more and more wit as the days go by…" She headed to the bathroom.
Harmonia came downstairs while Iphigenia was in the shower, "What's all the fuss about?"
"Our sister." Halcyon said, still perturbed, "She's home again."
"Oh…okay…"
"You saw her last night, yes?"
"Yes."
"She claims she was not here last night."
"But she was."
"No, maybe she wasn't." Halcyon stood up and paced, "But who was?" There was a loud, banging knock on the door. Halcyon turned to it, instantly alarmed. "Sister. Go upstairs."
"But that could be Sam—"
"Go. Now." Halcyon demanded. Harmonia looked upset before she ran up the stairs. Halcyon pulled her hair out of her face, adjusted her robe, then opened the door.
A bunch of thugs were on the other end, armed to the teeth, they all gave hungry grins when the door was opened, "This the place?" One of them asked.
"Pretty sure." A second said.
A third hoodlum glared at Halcyon, "You Iphigenia?"
"No. She isn't here." Halcyon said.
"This even her house?" Some of the gangsters exchanged a glance.
"Whatever." They started pouring in, at least three dozen of them barreling in for the doorway, "Remus says that this is where she lives, so we'll have to leave an impact for when she comes back!"
Halcyon snarled, taking her belt off, then using it to choke one of the guards. In his surprise, she flung his back up against her front, tucking her knee between his legs and yanking upwards to paralyze him in pain. She didn't stop there, grabbing his ear and biting it, trying to tear it off.
"Damn it, this little brat!" One of the thugs snapped, "She's feistier than I thought!"
Most of the others aimed their guns at her, while more of them kept pouring in, to Halcyon's horror, they seemed to at least be clocking in at fifty men at this point, "We'll give you one last chance, you little bitch!" One of them said, "Give us Iphigenia, or else this house is going to be toasted, and everyone living here will be dead!"
Halcyon let the man collapse to the ground, licking the blood from her lips. Her eyes turned to the windows, her next plan of escape.
"Hey, you listening!" He snapped, "Remus wants Iphigenia. Dead or alive."
"Forget it, she's not listening, let's just fire the missiles."
Her eyes landed on the next person closest to her, and she started mercilessly beating on him too.
Their eyes widened as the thug screamed out in pain. "Screw this!" He yelled, "Fire!"
A horrendous pang of multiple explosions erupted throughout the house, completely destroying it, and rendering it to rubble.
The gangsters all coughed and brushed the soot off themselves. The house was nothing but charred rubble at this point, but everyone in it for the most part were okay. The culprit who fired the rockets, they were another part of the gang, not too far away.
Adding the two sections of the gang together, and they were about three-hundred men strong. And counting.
Halcyon heard a ringing in her ears for the longest time before she uncovered her pounding heartbeat. She scrambled forward, searching out her sister, finding her strung out across a wooden board. Any blood that she had washed off herself had now reappeared.
"Sister…" She panted, thankful she wasn't dust. She grabbed a torn piece of fabric for Iphigenia to use to cover herself, since she was in the shower.
Harmonia whimpered, limping over to her siblings and clinging onto Halcyon for dear life. Iphigenia held an arm over them, glaring at the thugs.
The guy with the rocket launcher lowered his steaming weapon, "Okay…one of these stupid bitches are Iphigenia, right? We don't have all night…"
"I don't know." Another said, "Remus said we should just kill them all on the spot…so…guess that'll have to do…"
She stood, grasping the cloth over her chest but still hardly managing to cover herself, "I am Iphigenia."
"Sister, no!" Halcyon cried, holding onto Harmonia tightly.
A chorus of clicked and shuffling was heard as all the guns were now aimed at Iphigenia, "Alright, whatever…any last words, before you die?"
"You're not going to let the man himself hear them?" Iphigenia asked, "I think I'm at least owed an explanation."
"Look, we were just ordered by Remus to kill you and your stupid sisters." One of the thugs swatted a hand.
"I guess he doesn't want to waste time on you anymore." Another said.
"Precious." She snorted, "I want you two to run." She said lowly.
"We could never—" Harmonia started, but Halcyon silenced her with a muffled hand, running off with her.
Iphigenia held her hands out to use Blood Salvo and at least take down or distract them while her sisters ran. She knocked a dozen of them down for good, "Damn it, focus on Iphigenia!" They all started firing at her.
Iphigenia was riddled with bullets. But for some reason, screams were coming from the gangsters. "What the hell is that thing?"
Sam was making his arrival to his house, or his rubble, rather. Balancing most of his weight on his walking stick, he began to call upon Necromancy, a purple glow of skulls went around his decaying hand.
"It must be some zombie! Damn Tremere must have summoned it!" The thugs turned towards him, "Fire at this thing first!"
A horde of zombies and skeletons rose from the ground, sponging the lead. It didn't even affect the latter group. The skeletons laughed and powered up with Potence, slicing down nearby thugs with their swords. Halcyon turned over her shoulder, her sister crying on it. "Samuel…?" She said softly.
Iphigenia gave a shaky breath with her pierced lungs, collapsing to her knees and using another blood salvo.
Iphigenia was attacking them from one side, and Sam's skeleton soldiers were attacking them from another. Because of this, their forces were being eaten away at from multiple vantage points. "Damn it, kill the head zombie! Quick! Try using close-range!"
The few thugs that had clubs or bats started to use them, running for Sam while his skeletons were killing their friends.
Because Sam's walking stick was so razor-thin, he opted to use it as a sword, slicing holes through their vital areas, or slitting their throats, killing them in speeds a Celerity-user would be jealous of. With his free hand, he'd hold it out, and nearby hoodlums would immediately rot away, to nothing but hardened cadavers.
"He can…he can fucking make people decay?" One of them shuddered, "Damn it…everyone, attack the zombie at once!"
Iphigenia felt relieved, sure, but then guilt flooded her mind. She'd reduced this man's house to rubble too, for what cause?
Sam held a hand out, Thanatosis coming to his aid once more. Another horde of them rotted away and fell to the ground. He raced forward and clashed with one of the last hoodlums.
"How…how are you so strong?" He asked, watching Sam's muscles bulge out.
"The strength I take from others by infecting them is added to mine." Sam said, outmaneuvering him and stabbing him through the chest.
The thug made a choking sound, giving Iphigenia a pleading look, "Call your zombie off…please! We'll leave…we'd rather be punished than face this!"
"He isn't mine." Iphigenia snarled.
Sam killed the assailant anyway. It was rather quiet after that. For one thing, there were no more Sabbat thugs anymore. He looked out at the wreckage, sighing as he tried to sift through it to find anything salvageable.
A strong wind blew, sending a bunch of papers flying. Mostly all of them landed near the Crystallia sisters. They were ancient, Sam seemed to have horded them from at least hundreds of years ago, given how old the paper looked and how worn the writing was.
Sure enough, the years went as far back as eighteen-sixty.
"Lincoln's election divides the states! Eleven states secede from the union!"
"Under Jefferson Davis, the Confederate army stand proud! Robert E. Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and Sam Salamanca!"
The headlines from sixty-one to sixty-two were quite positive. (Assuming the papers were written by a southerner). They seemed to claim that the war would be won by the south, and slavery would stand, and the confederacy would be legitimized.
Then the papers from sixty-three rolled around.
"Disaster strikes! Stonewall Jackson requires amputation, and Salamanca goes missing!"
"Jackson dead on the Sabbath. Salamanca still not found, assumed dead. Robert E. Lee resumes the war on his own."
A year or two later, and the Civil War was won by the north. And then more papers blew around from hundreds of years ago, to about now. Sam could've really crammed all this information into a history book, if he wanted to.
Halcyon scrambled to pick up the papers, while Iphigenia let them blow over. "Sam…" She weakly stood to her feet, "I…I had no clue he would…come after me…"
Sam looked at Iphigenia, "It's alright." He said, "I still have my room in the red tower. I'm sure if you spoke with Strauss, he would give you one as well."
"I can't." She said, looking bitter and afraid, "Not with them. I don't want Strauss to know about them. I don't want to think about what sort of punishment I'd face."
"Strauss knows about both of your sisters."
"…what?" Her shoulders dropped, her jaw agape, "H-How?"
Now he looked really confused, "You and he spoke about it…while he was reprimanding you…"
"Reprimanding me?" She asked, "I haven't seen Strauss face to face since he first took the throne…"
"…someone who resembled you spoke to him…the other night at the Chantry…I wasn't there myself…but…Strauss said he spoke to you. Reprimanded you and your Magister. He seemed rather standoffish about the entire affair."
Halcyon scuttled forward with her sister, "Yes, that's right. Iphigenia here says she did not enter your house the other evening, but Iphigenia there most certainly did."
Sam briefly transformed into Iphigenia, "So someone used Obfuscate." He demonstrated, turning back into himself.
Iphigenia looked terrified, then distant, "That's…a power of Obfuscate?"
"Yes…and I think I had a feeling on who did it, too."
"Gary." They said at the same time. She then cursed and turned away, holding her forehead, "I knew that bastard was lying to me! He told me Mister Madison wanted to apologize, but I bet he'll liquefy me on sight!"
Sam held his arms out, "This is all my fault." He confessed, "Strauss had me teach him the Mask of A-Thousand faces technique to Gray to ensure his loyalty." He said, "I had no idea that he would use it within the ranks of the Camarilla."
"Of course he would. He does anything for amusement, especially to piss off the Camarilla. Like his little reminder that he cares more about his clan than his sect…"
"Catching him on it would be far from simple."
"I don't care if we catch him or what, because I know he'll weasel his way out of it. I just don't want to die, and I don't want them to die…" She closed her eyes, "I don't even care if we have to ghoul both of them. Halcyon would really just need a new regnant, preferably someone a little less shifty than Jeanette…"
"That can be arranged." He said, "I'll assist you."
"Why?"
"Because without that, you'll have nowhere else to go."
"But why do you care?" She asked, "Why do you care about me at all? About any of us?"
"Because we're part of the same organization." He said, "Even though others have forgotten, one must treat their brethren with respect, and assist them, when times are turbulent."
She continued to stare at the rubble, then looked back up at Sam, "What should I do first?"
"We'll head to the red tower, I'll buy a bit of time from Strauss by telling him that an extra few rooms in the tower need to be rented out. He trusts me enough, I probably won't even have to mention who they're for. It'll then be up to you to find masters for your sisters."
"And what about Madison?"
"…whatever Gary did in the Chantry…it probably adversely affected most of the other Tremere's opinion of you."
She gave a shaky nod, "Right…I'll…see what I can do…"
"Sister." Halcyon said quietly to Harmonia, "Are you injured?"
"No…" She trembled.
"Can I borrow your robe, then?"
"S-Sure…" She took off her white robe, a sweater and skirt on underneath. Halcyon slung the robe over Iphigenia's shoulders. It was too wide and short for her, but it covered her up, at least. Iphigenia hugged herself with the cotton wrap, staring at the ground as they walked forward.
Halcyon looked up at Sam, "We're very sorry."
"It's alright." Sam said quietly, "It was a Sabbat attack in nature, right? Nothing you could've done."
"I could not make enemies left and right…" Iphigenia said quietly, reaching to touch what was left of her ear.
Sam looked at Halcyon briefly, then ahead, "Well…now you know…this is what I really look like."
"Yes." She said, "Does it look like I give a damn?"
He gave a dry chuckle, "Whatever we had, if we indeed had anything, it's over now." He said, "I no longer have any interest."
She looked at him for a long while, then pressed a kiss to his cheek.
Harmonia shuddered and looked away.
"This isn't a game!" Sam snapped, "For a while, I had all of my life locked away, who I really was, what I really was about. I lied to you. I lied to you about who I was. I lied to you about what I was. And you, meanwhile, kept on your path to make money, by whatever means necessary." He said, "So in that respect, we were more or less even. But that was before…" He started, "Now the balance has shifted away…and because of that, I have no intentions of continuing this."
She stopped walking and so did he. The other two looked back, Iphigenia said something quietly to Harmonia, then she walked ahead.
"I have no idea what you are talking about." She put her hands on her hips, then held out the stacks of papers, "Is it this? Is this it?"
He looked her up and down, "You've learned more from that than anything I've ever told you."
She flipped through the pages again, then looked back up at him again, "Time has changed us all. I like to think you and I might have met in a previous life of mine. Perhaps when I was a courtesan, hmm? Perhaps we weren't together, but perhaps we met, you spat at my feet and I looked away in disdain?"
"A guilt-trap won't work." He said, "After all, you got to have your cake and eat it too. I lost my insurance, you know everything about me, yet you still get to share yourself with the world."
"I share myself, not you."
"And I'm through with it all." He said, turning away, "Besides, I knew that eventually, you or your sisters would figure out what I really am. I knew our relationship was on a timer, from when it started. It was never serious to begin with."
She watched him walk forward, rolled her eyes, then stepped ahead of him, catching up to her sisters.
A/N: Iphigenia, blowing up houses since…forever…Wonder how Samuel Salamanca's past will continue to unravel…