MadCap's Fiction Corner - Seattle By Night: "If It Wasn't For Bad Luck..." (Part 3)

2018

Hope was leaving her apartment for the evening when her cell phone went off. She checked the caller ID, seeing the name of a familiar Malkavian.

"What's up, Detective Trent?"

"Oh, like anyone will get THAT reference!" Sybil snorted on the other end. "Had some crazy happen, you need to be there for it."

"Sure, I'm your Huckleberry. What's up?" Hope asked.

"Come downstairs and I'll explain." Hope blinked, looking over the edge of the balcony to see a familiar car parked in one of the spots before the apartment, Sybil's head and hand poking out from the driver's side window to wave at her. Hope grinned and hung up, slipping her phone into her cleavage as she headed down the steps to meet her, getting into the passenger side. Before she'd even finished buckling up, Sybil was taking off.

"What's the rush?"

"Got the Call." Sybil said, focused on the road. "They said to bring you along."

"Who said?" Hope asked. "Wait, what's the call? Is this some kind of... Malkavian thing?"

"Well, duh. Where have you been all season?" Sybil snorted. "But you are needed there."

"Uh... I was a Brujah, last I checked." Hope said, a brow quirked in confusion.

"Blood won't matter if we're all dead." Sybil said. "Well, more dead."

"Dead? Dead from what?" Hope asked.

"He's waking up..." Sybil replied ominously.

1986

"Help! HELP!" He tried to raise his hands, beating on the surface above him. All was pitch black, and there was such an immense pressure right over his head. Overpoweringly so. Ben felt his mind racing, trying to think of some way to get out or to escape or... he remembered the arena. Clarissa! Jack! Sarah! He reached up, pressing against the surface above him. The pressure was strong but he proved to be a bit stronger and, with some effort, he began to push his way through. It was wood above him, splinters digging into his hands as he began to beat and scratch at it, wearing away layer after layer.

He chalked up the lack of pain as his skin and nails were torn to his adrenaline. The air was getting thin... or it should have been, anyway. Wood gave way to dirt, which Ben began to force his way up through. It was heavily compacted above him, but he still managed to inch his way up and through it.

Finally, he felt the cool air blow across his hand and grabbed desperately at anything solid he could grasp, kicking his feet and barely managing to pull himself up out of the dirt and into the cool air around him.

Brushing the dirt from his eyes, Ben saw where he was now. It looked to be a basement or something of the kind. The floor around this small section of dirt was concrete with support pillars every few feet. Maybe it was still under construction?

Either way, Ben took notice of someone nearby. Tied to one of the pillars, slumped over against it.

"Clarissa!" Ben exclaimed as he moved quickly toward his date, trying to untie the ropes.

"Ben! Oh, god! Ben!" Clarissa gasped out as she saw him. Her eyes were raw, as if she'd been crying for a long while. "Ben! They killed Sarah! She tried to get away and they just-"

"Who?" Ben asked, tugging at the ropes without success. "Who killed Sarah? What is going on? Where's Harrington?"

"I don't...I don't know." Clarissa shook her head. "He tied me up here...after they made me watch them bury you." He had been buried. Ben felt that drop into his stomach, the knowledge that he'd apparently been buried alive. He tried to put that thought into the back of his mind, he'd process it later. "He said you were gonna...you were gonna..."

"What? What was I gonna do?" Ben asked.

"He said..." Clarissa's voice dropped to a low whisper. "He said you were gonna...eat me."

"Eat you?" Ben asked incredulously. Yet, even as he asked, Ben felt... something... in him. A twinge of pain, where before had been terrified disgust at their situation. It almost felt like...

"He was so scary, Ben! We've got to get out of here!" Clarissa said. Ben closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to slow his heart rate and calm himself... and he felt nothing. He stopped fiddling with the ropes, feeling his chest and then his wrist. No pulse, no anything. "Ben! What are you doing? We've got to get out of here!"

So delicious. She has all that you need. Take it! Take it now!

The thought settled uncomfortably in Ben's mind, those pangs still rising in his gut. He didn't feel a pulse from her, but he did feel a pulse... specifically from Clarissa. Even without touching her, Ben could feel her pulse. Her heart was beating so rapidly, pumping blood to every part of her body. He dropped the rope, his eyes drawn to her exposed neck.

"B-Ben! What are you doing?" Clarissa asked. He wasn't listening, his eyes drawn to the vein in her neck. He leaned forward, and whatever was happening caused Clarissa to scream as Ben felt his mouth fall open. Those screams turned into moans as his teeth sank into her neck, drawing from her her blood as it fell into his mouth, slipping past his lips and journeying down his body to quench those pangs in his belly.

Slowly, Ben returned to himself, feeling Clarissa's heartbeat having gone so rapid... and then slow and stop. With that pain in his belly gone, Ben slowly began to realize what had happened, that he was holding the lifeless body of his date. Ben's eyes went wide and he fell back, scooting away from the limp body as he gasped and sputtered.

"I... I... I didn't... I didn't... I..."

"You did." The voice of Harrington caught his attention, Ben had heard it enough at lectures to recognize it. "You did, Benjamin." Ben looked toward the sound of the voice, seeing the former of his professor standing only a few feet away. Perhaps he had been there the whole time, silently observing.

"You... you did this to me!" Ben glared, shakily getting to his feet.

"I have chosen you for a higher purpose, Benjamin." Harrington said, approaching him. Ben gave a cry of rage as he moved toward the man with a swinging punch. Unhindered by alcohol as before, Ben was nonetheless stopped as Harrington once more caught his fist.

"Oh... I did choose well..."

2018

"You... you killed her?" Angelica stared at Ben as he finished telling her the story.

"I did, yes." Ben said, nodding solemnly. "Why do you think I got you the blood bag?" He'd known that hunger would have hit her sooner or later and... with him and Sybil being the only ones available to drink from, it was probably the best choice.

"So... you were turned into a vampire." Angelica said.

"Embraced, yes." Ben said.

"Embraced? Kindred?" Angelica asked. "Why do you have all these different words for things that they definitely aren't? I don't feel embraced and..."

"...and?" Ben asked gently, encouraging her to continue.

"I don't... I don't feel like I'm in some kind of big group or family." Angel said.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Ben said, nodded. "I think it's supposed to be... romantic or philosophical or whatever. It's garbage. Just something to make young vampires feel better, I guess."

"Because they're stuck?"

"Kind of, yes." Ben said. "The world isn't supposed to know that we exist, remember?"

"Right. The Masquerade." Angelica said, sighing. "And now I'm stuck in that, too."

"I wish you weren't." Ben said. "I tried so hard to keep you out of it. I really did. I'm sorry."

"Why me?" Angelica asked. "Why was I so special?" A silence fell between them. "Ben?"

"Tomorrow night, we're going to have to present you to the Prince." Ben said.

"The Prince?" Angelica asked. "That doesn't-"

"The Prince of Seattle, yes." Ben said. "Her name is Wren Blanchard."

"You mean the hedge fund manager?" Angelica asked. "Easily the wealthiest woman in Seattle?"

"That's the one," Ben said, "she's had nine decades to get it right and she has."

"What do you mean present?" Angelica asked. "If I'm one of those... Baali, doesn't that mean I-?"

"Don't." Ben said, raising a hand. "You're not. You're not, alright? Caitiff. You're a Caitiff, alright?"

"I... alright." Angelica said. Ben nodded, turning and looking back at the artifacts hung upon the wall, hoping she did not ask that question again.

This was the place. Anthony had left his vehicle and approached the sewer access he'd been pointed towards. Opening the doorway (with a bit of acidic vitae applied to the lock), he made his way into the sewers proper. The Tremere walked along the concrete floor until he found himself within a series of tunnels, heading deeper beneath Seattle. Concrete flooring eventually gave way to grated flooring. Every so often, a rat scurried away from him, the furry creatures heading in and out of the shadows.

After a length of time he didn't have a full grasp of, Anthony stopped. He listened to the sounds of water rushing under the grating below him, the occasional vehicle roaring down the roads overhead. Apart from that, however, he found... nothing. No sign of Black or indeed any Nosferatu, though he noted that if they didn't want to be found, they weren't going to be.

That note from Brook laid heavily in his mind, however. He will find you. What also laid heavily on his mind was that ancient tome. Brook had made quite a show of trying to get the book here, the original Malleus Maleficarum. If it were intended to be used against the Baali, then it needed to be used. But how? Black would have the answer, or so he hoped.

"You look lost, little Tremere..." The voice got Anthony's attention, drawing a gun from within his jacket and aiming it for the sound of the voice... and finding only a bit of the brick walling had given way to packed earth. A pair of black eyes peered out at him from the dirt, a form beginning to pull itself free from that space, taking the form of a hideous humanoid thing. Bent over, its gait more like that of a beast than a man. The arms seemed longer than the rest of its body, the back looking as though it had been broken in several places leaving the owner hunched over like an ape. The face, though, was definitely not ape like. The pair of black eyes were surrounded by a patchwork of mottled, pox-scarred skin. Rotten, jagged teeth poked out from a jaw, showcasing a horrendous underbite.

"Primogen Black." Anthony said, lowering his gun and putting it away in its holster. "I've been looking for you."

"Oh, I know that you have." He said, looking to his left and to his right. "We should not talk here. The walls have ears. Come with me." Black began to hobble off down the tunnel and Anthony, still quite cautious, followed him. "You're a rather lucky man. Most people who pull a gun on me don't get an opportunity to do much of anything else."

"I'll try and remember that." Anthony said curtly as they continued on, Black shambling over to a section of brick wall and dragging a chipped, worn-down nail against it. There was a metallic click as the wall began to recede, revealing a corridor behind it. The Nosferatu entered and the Tremere followed behind. The wall closed behind them, leaving them with only very minimal lighting, just enough to see the few feet of corridor before them. Soon, they came to another door, one that looked more like the door of a bank vault or a heavy duty safe, complete with the knobs to turn. And turn them Black did, both of them clicking as they opened.

Like a shadow, he stepped in. Anthon followed, finding himself in a large chamber. Natural underground was mixed with brickwork and concrete, forming a facsimile of a room.

"Welcome to the Batcave." Black quipped as he approached a group of computer monitors nearby.

"I wasn't going to say that." Anthony said. "Primogen Brook wanted me to meet with you."

"Yes. We can talk. It should be safe here." Black said. "Do you have the book?"

"I do." Anthony said, though he did not make a move to retrieve it. "What does she want to do with it, exactly?"

"We have to make a trip soon enough, but I'll explain everything on the way." Black said, shambling over to one of his computer terminals.

"Drop the facade, Primogen." Anthony reacted with surprise when he heard the voice of none other than Thomas Walker. The man in the white suit had somehow managed to be seated in one of the chairs in a small alcove where was placed a small library with four shelves lined up immaculately. Walker set aside the tome he had been reading and stood up. "We have him firmly in place."

"Yes, Master." Black said, nodding and stepping back from Anthony.

"What the fu-?" Anthony began.

"I should have known you were planning something nefarious." Walker gave a tut as he looked upon the Tremere. "Mr. Phillips' trust in you was ill-placed, I see. And on the very same night he so willingly gave it to you, after what you did to him." The man approached, staring Anthony down. "Where is the book?"

Silence followed.

"Apprentice, I asked you-"

"Go to hell." Anthony replied sharply.

"Excuse me?" Walker looked at him incredulously.

"Go. To. Hell. You're no more a Tremere Lord's proxy than I am an assistant librarian." Anthony said. "You can suck my di-HURK!" A chunk of wood had lodged itself in Anthony's heart, leaving him paralyzed midsentence.

"Search him." Black moved forward at Walker's direction, looking through Anthony's clothing, pockets and all. Anthony knew well that the Nosferatu would find nothing. "Bring him along back to the Chantry. I think we have a long night ahead of us..."