MadCap's Fiction Corner - Seattle By Night: "Lost Children, Part 5"

The next night passed without incident. Then the night after that. Then three more as they waited for the inevitable fallout. 

It never came.

The news reports had come up about what was assumed to be a domestic terrorist attack on the small fringe cult at Molek's Light...and the SPD was investigating it.

And that was it.

Few of the Kindred of Seattle knew, but many had suspected, that this was the doing of Prince Blanchard. She had long held many fingers in many of the pies that were the media in Seattle. For her, something like this was not a difficult thing to do, so few thought it outside the realm of possibility.

Regardless of the truth, the Masquerade had remained intact. If anyone knew vampires were involved, they were silent on the matter.

The truth now was that Wren Blanchard was in meeting with her Primogen council, discussing a very important matter.

"I want to know where they are. All of them." The old Ventrue made her point plain, looking between all the other Kindred in the room.

"The...Tremere?" Samuels, the Brujah primogen, looked to the older Kindred nervously.

"Yes. The Tremere." Wren said, casting a glance toward Primogen Brook, who did not look up from the spot she'd been focusing upon on the boardroom table. "These rogue apprentices are being backed by someone. Despite certain individuals attempts to solve this problem, it has only gotten worse - leading into the events of a few nights ago."

"So you-" Primogen Black, the Nosferatu, began.

"Your resources are to be spent on locating these people and eliminating them." Wren said. "The Sixth Tradition is officially suspended, so long as it is in the pursuit of this goal. Am I clear?" No verbal response came. A few nods, nothing more. "You may leave." The gathered Primogen began to move to leave, Lilah Brook rising as well. "Not you, Primogen Brook."

"Yes, my Prince." Lilah paled, or so one might have thought by looking at her. Soon, they were the only two people in the room.

"Hugo, you may reveal yourself now." Wren said. Lilah, had she breath in her lungs, would have gasped upon seeing the Nosferatu appear. "Did any of them see you?"

"Arlen did. Maybe Carroway. Pretty sure the others didn't. No Auspex between 'em, I don't think." Hugo said.

"Good. I look forward to your report. You may go." Wren said, waving him away. Hugo flashed Lilah a grin of jagged teeth before hobbling off to the exit. Lilah realized why that exchange had just happened - a reminder of the Prince's power and reach. "Brook, you assured me that you had this under control..."

"My Prince, I-"

"I did not give you leave to speak." The Ventrue cut her off. "For months now...really more years from the intel that we've gathered...this has been going on. And now, it has led to this." She rested her hand against her cheek. "You were a good Primogen, Lilah...it's a shame that it went so poorly for you."

"W-What?" Lilah asked, looking to the Prince properly for the first time since being address before the meeting. The Tremere witnessed the removal of a stake of wood from the case at the head of the table.

"Now, you'll meet the sunrise and-" Wren began.

"Absolutely not!" Lilah protested, standing up and backing away, taking the chair she'd been sitting on crashing to the floor as she did so. She raised her hands, preparing to channel her vitae

"You are hardly in a-" Wren started once more, but both were soon interrupted by a knocking at the door.

". . .are. . .are you gonna get tha-?"

"I am certain I said no interruptions!" Wren snapped.

"I'm sorry, Prince Blanchard, b-b-but he insisted." The voice of her Seneschal came from the other side of the door.

In stepped a man with brownish hair, dressed in what appeared to be a priest's cassock.

"Good evening, Prince Wren Blanchard." He said, giving a respectful bow to the Prince. "I come to announce myself as a presence within your cit-"

"Who in the hell are you?" Wren asked. "This is a private meeting!"

"And I do apologize, I am certain you are busy and thank you for your time." The man said. "I am Thomas Walker of the Clan of Tremere, Proxy to Lord Samuel Blackwell."

"What?!" Lilah's eyes went wide.

"And what business do you have here?" Wren asked.

"Well, to be perfectly frank, her." The man pointed to Lilah.

"Me?" Lilah had another moment where, if she could have become more pale, she would have.

"Indeed. Lord Blackwell is most displeased with your apparent lack of progress in dealing with the Baali threat." Thomas nodded to the Tremere. "I am to, as of this night, take command of the Chantry of Seattle as the new Regent until such time as the threat is eliminated."

"How marvelous." Wren said. "Welcome to Seattle then, Mr. Walker. Now, to handle this one-" She raised the stake, intending to drive it into Lilah's heart.

"With respect, Prince Blanchard." Thomas raised a hand. "Lord Blackwell has requested that I take the former Regent Brook into custody."

"Lord Blackwell has no jurisdiction in my city." Wren's eyes narrowed on Thomas.

"No, of course not...but the Inner Circle does." Thomas said. "And I don't think I have to tell you how Hardestadt is about people who do not follow proper decorum." Lilah looked to the man, then back to the Prince. She could see the wheels turning into Wren's head. Clearly, the Prince was weighing her options.

She relented, setting the stake down on the table. "Take her, then."

2013

There she sat and there she sobbed. Her legs dangled over the edge as she gazed down at the river below. As she did, she glanced down at the picture of the sonogram - the two little images of lives that would never be.

Tears fell onto the photograph, her entire body still shaking after the hell she had caught from her father. And her mother...

. . .her mother had just stood there.

Which was better than what Joseph had done. He'd just...disappeared. Kicked her out of his home, blocked her number, and had completely removed her from his life as though he'd never been. His Instagram had been filled with shots of clubs and resorts and even now having left Seattle to go on a bar crawl through Cabo.

She was alone. Now and forever.

"Miss Penderghast." The voice nearly made her jump, she hadn't heard anyone coming up. When Grace turned, she saw a man standing there. For a long moment, she didn't recognize him.

".  .  .Mr. Carroway?" She asked, taking a cloth from one of her pockets and wiping her eyes clean. "W-What, what are you doing here?" She asked.

"I came to see you, my dear girl." Isaac Carroway looked upon the young woman. Grace could not reason why, but she felt a pull toward him, something that was bringing her up and to him and away from the ledge.

"Me? Why?" Grace asked, moving toward him. Why, she couldn't say, yet it felt as natural as anything.

"Because I want to give you a gift." Isaac said. "Will you let me give you a gift?" The diminutive redhead began to nod.

2018

"It's. . .it's amazing." The young blonde was drinking from the vein that Grace had opened in her wrist.

"Yes. Yes, I know." Grace smiled sweetly, stroking her blonde locks. "There you go...there you go...I think that's enough for now." She gently, but firmly nudged her back and channeled her body's unnatural healing, sealing the wound. "I know you feel strong, little one. I know you feel better than you ever have before."

"Yes, I...that was amazing!" The blonde nodded.

"You will have more in time." Grace said. "For now, you serve me, don't you, Miranda?"

"Yes." Miranda, her new name given to her, nodded. "Yes, Mistress."

Anthony made his way toward Golden Dawn Books. Marion hadn't made herself known since before the Halloween raid. With no way to contact Primogen Brook at the present, she was his only contact he knew for certain was even still alive.

He found the place closed, entering through the back door where he knew Marion had kept a key inside a false brick. The place was still stocked with books from wall to wall as far as he could see, but there was no sign of Marion or the ghouls she had employed there to work the place both in her absence at night and the daylight hours when she slept.

Anthony quickly began to search for some kind of clue she might have left behind, rooting through her desk and her shelves in her office.

"You know, you really ought to watch yourself." The voice was familiar, but wasn't Marion. He turned to see him, a thin man with dark features.

"Robin. . ." Anthony said, facing him and immediately raising his hands to inflict Thaumaturgical punishments upon him.

"I didn't come to fight, lover. I came to talk." Robin said as he regarded the other man. "If I'd wanted to kill you, I could have done it while you were stomping through here like an elephant."

"I have nothing to say to you, traitor." Anthony said, eyes narrowing on the man as he began to channel his vitae.

"Traitor? To whom?" Robin asked, stepping forward regardless. "To the Pyramid? A system of oppression and control that would have seen us laboring under lapdogs of the Camarilla like Brook?" Another step. "To the Camarilla? A festering, stinking corpse propped up by a bunch of scared old men and women hiding in the shadows?"

"Me!" Anthony spat at him. "You betrayed me!" He raised his hands. "And now, you have to pay for it!" He was preparing to unleash his magics when Robin pulled out and struck a match, striking it against the desktop before dropping it. A flame shot up, forcing Anthony to look away for a moment. When he did look back, the flame had disappeared. . .and in its place was a hermetic circle that had been drawn beneath his feet. Of course he hadn't been able to see it in the dark!

"Alright, now..." Robin said, eyes passing over the circle and then looking back to Anthony. "Now that you're in a far better space, let's talk, shall we?" Anthony just scowled at him. "I thought you might agree."

Ben's phone went off. He'd spent the last few days in seclusion. His mind still on the events of a few nights ago and, despite him thinking better of it, still going back to the things that Aleister had said. He had indeed been a different man then, in that time in Vancouver. He was beyond that now, past it. It was his past. He had to keep telling himself just that - it was his past.

He had to believe...he had to...

His phone rang, snapping him from his thoughts. Unknown number, not an unexpected thing in the world of the Kindred. Ben pressed the accept key and brought the phone to his ear.

"Mr. Grayson? I'd love to say I could hear you breathing, but-" Aleister began.

"What do you want?" Ben asked, not even bothering to guess at how the Baali had gotten his number.

"To deliver a message. The events of a few nights ago were. . .dramatic, don't you think?"

"Typical Saturday night."

"Ah, yes. . .ever the aloof stoic. We'll soon enough fix that."

"Heard that before. Pretty sure I'll hear it again later." Ben snorted. He had nothing for anyone else to take. Nothing and no one anymore. Even his coterie were. . .well, they were there. They wouldn't be forever, though. Grace would go on to play the Jyhad, Anthony would climb the Pyramid here in Seattle, and even Sybil had a bright future as a Hound. That was, of course, if they all made it through the nights to get there.

"I doubt you have. Not from someone who will take your hope and leave no haven to return to. . ." Aleister hung up, leaving Ben look at the phone in confusion for a moment after. Then, his eyes widened.

"Angel!"

He bolted out of his haven, heading up the staircase and getting on the roof, moving from rooftop to rooftop with speed and grace, Masquerade be damned. He attempted to call Angelica multiple times, but his phone went straight to voicemail each time. His heart would have burst from his chest in his panic as he made his way to a familiar homeless shelter across from a now-equally familiar diner.

He entered the Haven of Hope, the front door having been left wide open.

"No. . .no!" The first thing to greet his vision was bloodied walls, the sanguine liquid having been splattered across them from not one, but multiple sources. Bodies littered the room, some Ben recognized from the shelter staff and some from the people who took refuge there. His eyes passed over the corpses, but none of them were Angelica's. 'But where...?' He thought, kneeling over to inspect one of the bodies when he heard the click of a gun safety, then two others, all behind him.

"Get on your knees and put your hands on your head! Right now!" One of the three policemen who had entered the shelter demanded, Ben suppressing a growl as he relented, dropping to his knees and putting his hands above his head. One of the cops came up, grabbing at his wrists and cuffing him.