"I don't...I don't understand."
"I know."
"You're telling me I'm-"
"Dead? Yes."
"I don't understand. I'm...I'm alive. I know it."
"Feel your chest."
"What?"
"Your heart. Feel your heart. Feel your pulse." Angelica looked at Ben strangely as he spoke those words. She looked down at her chest, the spot where he'd rammed a wooden stake into her her, the spot not having so much as a blemish. Were it not for her torn shirt, she wouldn't have realized it had ever happened at all. It didn't even hurt anymore. She reached up with a hand, pressing it to her chest. She listened and heard...
". . .nothing." She said, her hand falling from her torso and back to her side. "I...I don't...what does that mean?"
"You already know." Ben said.
"You expect me to believe that I'm-"
"A vampire, yes." Ben said, pain etched on his face. "You were just thrust in the chest with a wooden stake. I fed you from a blood bag before I unbound you. You're a vampire. What more proof do you need?"
"That was blood?" Angelica blinked. "That...that was..." She shook, a memory she was suppressing trying to claw its way up from her subconscious.
"I know. It's weird. It's always weird." Ben said. "I wanted to spare you this. God knows I wanted to spare you this, but-"
"This...this is too much. Too much." Angelica shook her head, backing away from him again. "I can't...I can't...this isn't..."
"Angel, please. Listen-" Ben started.
"Uh, Benny?" Sybil's voice caught the attention of Ben and Angelica, who both looked to her. "Mind if I step in? I have some idea about this sort of thing." When Ben gestured for her to step up, the Malkavian did so. She set her hands gently against Angelica's shoulders. "Alright, it's like this. Think of the world as this big elephant, right? It has tusks and ears and a trunk and all this. Right?"
"I. . .okay?" Angel asked, staring in confusion at the detective.
"Right, so...you have the Gangrel, right? Like Ben over there. He's a Gangrel. He sees the elephant's tusk and is all 'Ooooh, I wanna be like that!'. Then you have the Nosferatu that fly up the thing's butt and-"
"And I think that's enough, Sybil." Ben said.
"I'm so confused..." Angel said.
"The point I was trying to make is...we're all different, but we're all the same, too." Sybil said.
"Wait, you're a vampire, too?"
"We prefer the term 'Kindred', but yes." Sybil replied.
". . .wait, and you're a police officer?"
"Detective. I've got to pay the bills somehow, don't I?"
"The cops in Seattle are vampires?"
"Just me. So far as I know, anyway." Sybil grinned. "I could be wrong. Sometimes I'm wrong. Usually I'm not, though. Sometimes."
"What?"
"Sybil's..." Ben sighed, pressing his hand to his face and running it down to rest under his chin. "Sybil's...a Malkavian. I'll try to explain later. We just need to go over the basics, first."
"Okay, I...okay..." Angel said. "What do I need to know?"
"Alright." Ben nodded to her. "Let's start from the beginning...you're Kindred now. You can't go out in daylight and a wooden stake paralyzes you as you saw. And you have to drink blood. On the inverse side of that, though-"
"I don't know how I could have doubted you." Anthony was apologetic as he and Robin returned to the dormitory for the apprentices.
"It was all part of the plan. Your anger made my performance all the more convincing for the Baali." Robin was laughing, clapping him on the shoulder. "So don't worry about it. Neither of us is a pile of dust and we'll be back shoulder to shoulder just like the old nights."
"I'd like that." Anthony nodded. In truth, after all the insanity of the previous nights - with Brook becoming increasingly more and more militant and Marion's obsession with those keys - Anthony was glad to have something like bedrock back in his existence. Robin had always been there for him, even when they had merely been starting apprentices.
"As would I." Robin said. "And, with time, I'd like to...pick up things where we left off." His hand clapping on Anthony's shoulder steadied, resting against him. "If. . .if you think that's possible." Anthony hesitated, looking to the other Kindred. ". . .I'm sorry. Too soon?"
"Just a bit." Anthony said. "Give...give me some time to process this, alright?"
"Of course. Right." Robin nodded. "You should get some rest. Tomorrow night, we'll really get into things. We'll purge the Baali from this city forever! I promise you."
"Good." Anthony nodded, turning and entering his room before closing the door behind him. As he realized he was alone, he allowed the veneer of stoicism to fall from his face. Something was wrong, and he knew it. He felt a little bit more vindicated as he noticed that he wasn't alone in the room...namely, a small metal golem stood there. Brook's symbol was etched into its miniscule form. It stared at him, waiting for him. "Yes?"
The automaton walked over to Anthony's work desk, going to the wall behind it and pulling out a box that he didn't recognize, one that had clearly been left there. Anthony walked over, pulling it out. Opening the lid, he looked within and found a familiar, ancient-looking tome.
The Malleus Maleficarum.
Opening the cover, a note dropped out. Anthony picked it up from where it had fallen on the floor and read the words, written hastily by a fine hand.
Wallace,
Clan Tremere remembers those who are loyal. Your services are needed again.
Go to Arlen Black. He is the only one you can trust. Go to Laurelhurst. He will find you.
Brook
Anthony set the note down. Then, thinking better of it, he tore in half and then into thirds and then further scraps to ensure the text was completely illegible. Arlen Black, he knew the name of the Nosferatu Primogen. Why would Brook want him to go to him? And with the true Malleus Maleficarum, to boot? It made no sense. A contingency, perhaps? He supposed he would have to find out, though not tonight. For now, there would be eyes looking out for him, even if not directly upon him. He slipped the book back into the box, taking it and moving it to hide away from the world in his dresser for the time being. A false panel in the bottom allowed him to store away what he would need that others should not see.
"You go, too." He told the golem, picking it up and getting no resistance from the creature. He set it into the drawer alongside the book, leaving it to guard the thing for the time being.
Isaac was exhausted, panting as he fell back against the mattress alongside Grace. The panting wasn't from lack of air - being that he didn't need to breathe - nor from exertion of effort, but euphoria. A swapping of their blood again and the pair were riding high, feeding from one another just enough to reach that high again. Diablerie wasn't a risk, he felt rather confident. Grace was too young, too inexperienced, and he could easily overpower her if need be to stop her.
Yet...that power over her...his Beast was pleased at the thought of draining his young protégé dry. That, though, the Toreador suppressed. He would not be so gauche as to allow his inner devil to erode his good sense.
"Giving up on me already, Isaac?" Grace asked, smirking. Her entire body seemed to glow as though she were alive, tangled up in the sheets of his bed.
"Just...give me a moment, my sweet thing." Isaac returned that smirk, a near perfect mirror of hers. She had come so far in her relatively short time as one of the Kindred. And how much further she would go! He had plans for her, plans that went far beyond just this club and this city. They would take time, which was something they had an overabundance of.
"You're thinking of Renée again, aren't you?" Grace asked sitting up, the messy sheets wrapped around her for unnecessary modesty. The smirk fell from her face, clearly she wasn't pleased. Neither was he, truth be told.
"I told you, my position is tenuous." Isaac said. "Renée was my predecessor's favored childe, after all. She holds quite a bit of sway within our Clan even now."
"She's a snob. Absolute poseur." Grace said derisively.
"She is. And she is also easily my biggest source of competition." Isaac reminded her pointedly.
"You know, it's really awful that you're thinking of her when you're in bed with me." Grace gave a pout, nudging his chest.
"It's not like that, Grace." Isaac said.
"Good. If it were, I may just have to stake you." Grace teased him.
"I was thinking about it earlier, holding the Orb." Isaac said.
"Put that out of your mind." Grace snapped at him, her demeanor changing entirely. Her warmth replaced with a stringent cold about her. "That isn't our way. You know that."
"I..." Isaac stopped before he could continue. This... this made no sense. He had been so adamant about it, and now it seemed the most natural thing in the world that he just... let it go. "This isn't-"
"We'll handle this our way. The Toreador way." Grace said, cupping Isaac's cheek and forcing him to look back at her. "And I know just how to do it."
Angel had spent most of the night getting a crash course on all of the lore of the Kindred that Ben knew. The state of vampires, the Clans, the Camarilla and the Sabbat. He wanted her to know everything, everything that he could tell her. Everything she would need to know.
Everything... because he had failed her so completely.
"So you're a Gangrel." Angel said, going over this all. "And Sybil-"
"She's a Malkavian." Ben nodded. Sybil had left, knowing Ben had things well in hand. "They are all inflicted with some form of insanity."
"And hers is?" Angel asked.
"As far as I've been able to tell, non-sequiturs and talking to her trench coat." Ben shrugged. He'd long-since given up trying to figure out any Malkavians, in particular her.
"So... what am I?" Angel asked him, pushing a lock of her red hair behind her ear as she trembled at the memories she was fighting to forget. "I remember... I remember waking up in that pit. E-Eating that heart and-"
"It's best if you don't bring that up with anyone." Ben said, shaking his head. He knew enough of the Baali to know that ritual, and he knew others would as well. Best to keep that under wraps. Besides, Angel had exhibited no signs of the blood having taken in that way. "You're a Caitiff."
". . .I'm a what?" Angel asked.
"Caitiff." Ben explained. "They're not really a clan, at least not in the Camarilla. They're... well, they're what happens when someone Embraces a human and they don't show signs like their sire."
"Wait, so... those, devil vampires. The Satan worshippers-"
"I'm pretty sure they don't actually worship Satan, but yes, go on."
"I'm not one of them?"
"No. So far as I can tell, you aren't." Ben said. Even then, he wasn't sure, but he attempted to seem confident in his wording. He might not believe it, but Angel needed to believe it if she was going to get through this.
"Okay. Okay." Angel seemed a bit more calmed, nodding her head. "So... you're a vampire. You've been a vampire the whole time we've been dating."
"Right." Ben nodded.
"And you never told me because of the Masquerade."
"That's right. Humans aren't supposed to know that we exist."
"How long have you been a vampire?"
"If you're expecting me to tell you I'm over a hundred or something like that, I'm afraid you're going to be very disappointed." Ben said. "I was born in 1965."
"So you're barely even in your fifties."
"I look good for my age, yes. Thank you." Ben joked. Angel, in spite of herself, laughed a little at that.
"I... well, how did it happen?" She asked. "I mean, for you?" Ben's jovial attitude dampened a bit. He supposed it was going to come up. "I'm sorry, I-"
"No." Ben shook his head. "No, it's natural that you'd ask." He turned, looking to one of Nathaniel's many bequeathed antiques that were left on display, ones that Ben had had neither the time nor the inclination to rearrange or remove. "I'll tell you, though I don't think you're going to like it."
"I can take it." Angel said.
"Maybe you can... maybe you can."
1986
"C'mon, Ben! It's gonna be fun!"
"I'm busy!"
"You're always busy, Benny!" The young woman with the curly blonde hair nudged his shoulder. "You love a good concert just like the rest of us!"
"C'mon, it's Triumph!" Ben looked up at her with an almost nauseated expression. "Besides, Clarissa, it's not like it's KISS or anything."
"When are you going to cut your hair, by the way?" Clarissa replied cheekily, nudging his shoulder. "C'mon, Ben. Those history textbooks can wait, alright?"
"Alright. Alright." Ben laughed, setting the book aside as he glanced at his date. "Since you twisted my arm." Clarissa always seem to have that effect on him. The two got into Clarissa's old Cutlass and headed through the city toward the Pacific Coliseum. They were supposed to meet up with Jack and Sarah, though God only knew where the pair of them were going to be.
They managed to find parking and got in line (Clarissa already had their tickets) and spent the time with idle chatter. As they did, Ben's eyes caught someone not far off. The man wasn't in line and he was... staring at him.
". . .is that Professor Harrington?" Ben asked.
"And another-what?" Clarissa stopped mid-sentence and looked over to where Ben was looking. "From the University? I think so."
"What's he doing here?" Ben asked.
"Maybe he's a Triumph fan. Do you want to get out of line and ask?" Clarissa asked, a sarcastic edge to her tone.
"Very funny!" Ben said, looking back to her for a moment and then looking back to see the middle-aged form of Thomas Harrington was gone. He looked to his left and his right, but found no sign of the man in question. "What the-?"
"C'mon, Ben! I see Jack and Sarah!" Clarissa's voice caught his attention and he moved to follow her up the line. What followed was a concert not to be forgotten - Triumph performing their hits and even a new few from their latest record. After some singing, some moshing, and more than a few drinks shared between the four of them, they were off back to the parking lot.
"Fight the good fight every moooooooment! Every minute! Everyyyyyy daaaaaay!" Ben and Jack were both chorusing, air guitars and all as they made their way back.
"Absolutely ridiculous." Clarissa was giggling and shaking her head.
"They could be worse, remember that time Foreigner came through?" Sarah asked, laughing as well. By this point, Jack had leaped onto Ben's shoulders, both air guitaring as they went along, their drunken antics amusing both the girls. Soon enough, they were back at Clarissa's Cutlass.
"You two okay to drive home?" Sarah asked.
"Oh, I am. The brew master here, not so much." Clarissa said, clapping Ben's now unburdened shoulder.
"Hey! I'm not as you as I think I drunk..." Ben said. "I mean, I'm-"
"Hush hush. C'mon." Clarissa said, opening the passenger side door of her car and ushering him back in.
"Uh, Clar, your tire's are-" Sarah started to say, her voice being cut off as she gasped.
"Hey! Put her down!" Ben heard Jack's voice, jolting up in the chair as he did so. He stumbled out of the car, falling onto the concrete and flat on his face. When he looked up, he saw two men holding Sarah beneath her arms and Jack was being held at the throat by-
"H-Harrington?!" Ben's mouth was agape. The professor of anthropology was indeed holding up Jack as though he weighed nothing at all. With a flick of his wrist, Jack's neck snapped with a sickening crack and Harrington dropped him to the ground. "Jack? JACK!" His friend did not move, did not react to him in any way.
"Help me!"
"Ben! C'mon-" Sarah was being pulled into a van by two men, one of which was jamming a syringe into her neck. Clarissa had moved forward to stop them and found Harrington in her path, taking her and slamming her against the side of her vehicle.
"Get away from her!" Ben shouted as he stumbled to his feet, trying to reach the pair. Harrington had taken a syringe of liquid and had injected it into Clarissa's neck. Ben got to his feet, drunkenness and panic gripping him as he stumbled toward Harrington with raised fits.
"It's just as well, Benjamin. I was looking for you..." Harrington said as he dodged Ben's somewhat lethargic punches with no real effort. The last punch saw Ben grabbed at the wrist and himself forced up against the side of Clarissa's Cutlass. Ben watched, his eyes widening, as Harrington's mouth opened and his teeth seemed to extend into pointed, jagged peaks. Ben's scream was cut short as the man's fangs pierced his neck. A feeling of utter peace and euphoria sank in, tingling going from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
So much so that he didn't feel his heart slowing... and slowing... and slowing...
The last thing he felt, as his body began to give way to this euphoria, was the warm rush of liquid into his mouth...
No comments:
Post a Comment