The Gangrel's eyes scoured the area, wary of the slightest movement. This early in the night, however, there were few to none out, just a few students either going to their late classes or leaving. It hadn't changed that much in thirty-two years, he realized. Ben often found himself stunned by how well the Masquerade kept the illusion going. These people got up in the morning, ate their meals, learned what they could, tried to make some sort of life for themselves, and went to bed unaware that all around them were beasts that could kill them without so much as a thought. And the Kindred were probably the least terrible things skulking around in the dark.
His hoodie up over his head, Ben didn't intend to stick around long. He'd thought to approach the building as a bird or perhaps some form of rat, but had decided to stick to human form. Less attention, less chance of being caught. Some part of his mind hated the idea, remembering a time when he could be more open, more vulnerable to his more beastly nature. But those nights were gone, now...and he told himself it was for the better. He put Vancouver out of his mind as he found the Liberal Arts building, walking around the edges of it to find the loading dock. Once he'd found it, he started toward it.
"Hold it right there." Ben froze, hearing the man speak. He turned, seeing a man dressed in the uniform of a campus security guard. Ben had heard him tailing him at least since he'd been at the front of the building, but hoped his pursuer would give up the ghost. Obviously, he wasn't allowed such mercies. "This is a restricted area, I'm going to have to see some identification, buddy." The Gangrel resisted the urge to sigh, and suppressed his first instinct. Even so, in the pockets of his hoodie, his hands twitched ever so slightly. "Well, c'mon. Out with it."
"I'm just out for a walk." Ben said, patting his pockets as if he were looking for something. "Sorry, my ID must be back in my dorm."
"Oh, god. Please tell me you're not one of the freshmen..."
"Sorry, yeah." Ben laughed heartily. "Must have just slipped my mind."
"Well, you should get back to your dorm at any rate. Don't let it happen again." The guard said, fixing him with a look, it seemed as though he were somewhat skeptical anyway.
"Right, right, sorry." Ben said. "Good night."
"Uh-huh..." The guard watched Ben walk off, Ben moving around the corner and beyond some trees, only then did his face resume its more traditional stoic look...and was replaced with a scowl.
"Jackass..." He muttered as he looked back, finding that he wasn't being pursued. Ducking into a small alcove, he felt the vitae within him churn as he channeled it. Moments later there was not a man, but a simple bird there. Flying back around toward the dock, Ben slipped into the loading dock under the crack between the door and the floor, landing and his body once more morphing back to its humanoid shape.
Not exactly a flawless arrival, but he'd take it.
A towncar carrying two men and their goddess had arrived. The passenger side door opened first, a tall man in a well-kept suit stepping out and opening the rear passenger door.
"Thank you, Mortimer." A slender hand took the offered one, and the woman attached to it - Grace Penderghast - came out. "You have the item?"
"Yes, ma'am." Mortimer held a box that contained her gift to the Primogen, a way of showing gratitude for the job in question. Grace regretted that she knew so little of the Tremere Primogen, being that the Tremere were a secretive bunch to begin with, and it made that particular task all the more difficult. Nevertheless, Grace reasoned she'd made an excellent selection that would have mass appeal. Something that Brook might keep her in mind in case other tasks needed to be done.
Another movement in the Jyhad.
Box in hand, Grace came from the car and started toward the building. She was, perhaps, a bit overdressed for the area. Being flanked by Mortimer would do little to dissuade unwanted attention, though it seemed that there were few souls about in the immediate area.
"Martin, stay with the car." Grace ordered, thinking on it as she and Mortimer went forth. "Idling."
"Yes, ma'am." Martin nodded, remaining in the driver's seat with the car ready to go should a getaway be needed. Her frosted blue eyes scanned the area, and rolled in disdain as a figure approached.
"Ma'am, I'm gonna need to see some identification." A portly man in a security guard uniform approached.
"Now see here-" Mortimer was stopped by her hand on his shoulder. Grace approached, her eyes meeting that of the security guard.
"Mr....Meltzer..."
"That's Officer Mel-"
"Yes, I know. I know." Grace cut him off, waving him off as she did so, making certain that his eyes were meeting her own. "You must leave." The man's body became rigid for the longest moment, his eyes fixed upon hers. "Go." The man turned immediately, walking off in the other direction. Grace leaned toward Mortimer. "Let's go...before he gets a mind to return." She started off once more toward the loading dock, finding it there. "Mortimer, the door."
Her ghoul's vitae flowed into his limbs as he seized the half-open door to the bay, allowing her and himself both entrance. Both of them were just in time to see a man emerge from behind several boxes arranged on palates.
Seconds behind them was a woman who entered, her hair brunette, clad in an overcoat.
Sybil looked over the three others. The man in his hoodie and jeans, the woman in the evening gown, and her suited accomplice. Two were Kindred, she knew right away. They weren't breathing. The suited man...something was off. He was breathing, at least so far as Sybil could tell. How very interesting indeed...
"So, you're all here. Welcome." A woman's voice distracted the quartet, and upon turning their eyes were met with the sight of a woman in a red button-down, thick glasses, and so thin that she could be easily called waifish. To her right was...possibly the most unremarkable looking man that Sybil had ever laid eyes on. Brown hair, brown eyes, pale of skin...eyes covered by glasses, another Kindred.
"Keep an eye on the serpent that plays that it has no fangs."
The Malkavian blinked, that little voice whispering through her head. Sometimes clear, sometimes fuzzy. Always enigmatic. She shook it off as the woman and the man at her side approached.
"I am Lilah Brook. I am glad to see that you have all arrived." The Tremere primogen spoke to them all, looking over the small soon-to-be coterie she had gathered.
"Of course." Grace said. "It would be utterly foolish to not answer such a...generous...summons." She gestured to Mortimer, took the box from her and stepped forward with it, offering it to Lilah, who directed him to hand it to her companion. The young man (at least in appearance), took it and Lilah turned back to the group.
"I have a task I wish you to perform." Lilah said. "If your completion is timely, and to my satisfaction, then I will register a minor boon to each of you." This caught the attention of them all...except for the man in the hoodie, Sybil noticed.
Ben was listening. His face remained stoic. He supposed the others were more new, didn't see the trap before it came. A boon from a Primogen? A hefty boon indeed, even a minor one. 'Nothing comes for free...' The words of a certain Elder he had known before rang through his head. It had been a decade and some since he had left, but still his sire's words rang through his mind. It was a truth of the undead world, be they in Seattle, Vancouver, or anywhere else under the moon.
"It is a simple escort. Within two hours, a man by the name of John Smith will be arriving at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport. Pick him up from there, bring him back here."
"Just like that?" Ben's eyes flickered over to the woman who had spoken up, the one in the trenchcoat. Her...her, he remembered from...
"Just like that, yes, Ms. Langtry." Lilah spoke up, pressing her glasses back onto her nose. "He will be expecting you. Are there any further questions?"
"What Gate?" Ben asked.
"B-14." Lilah said, she took from her breast pocket a photograph, handing it out to him. Ben looked it over, seeing...an even more average-looking individual than Anthony. A balding man in a passable three-piece suit. He passed it to the trenchcoat-clad woman, who looked it over and passed it along as well.
"Accompanying you will be one of the apprentices, Anthony." She gestured to the man at her side. "He shall be monitoring you." It seemed that the Tremere apprentice was as surprised at this proclamation as the two women were. Or, at least, the one in the evening dress. The one in the trenchcoat seemed...amused? He couldn't quite tell. "Was there anything else?"
"No." Ben shook his head, the first movement he had made since emerging that did more than just move his head. The others, it seemed, were following suite.
"Most excellent. I shall leave you to your own devices, then." Lilah turned to her male companion - Anthony. "Apprentice Wallace?"
"Yes, Primogen?" He asked.
"Do not disappointment me." She said, turning and walking back the way the two had come after taking the box from Anthony. The man in question moved forward.
"So...shall we?" He inquired.
"Yes. We shall." The woman in the evening gown clasped her hands together. "I have my vehicle outside."
"Hi, also have a vehicle." The trenchcoated woman (Sybil, he finally remembered the name of) spoke up, raising a hand.
"Very well, you are welcome to follow." The woman said. "So, to give introductions...I am Grace Penderghast. And you are?" She looked to Ben, who stared.
"...Ben." He replied curtly.
"...I see." The redheaded woman withdrew, looking to the other woman.
"Sybil Langtry." She said. "Seattle PD."
"Nevermind then, you can escort us." Grace said, her eyes flicking over to Anthony. "And you are with us, then?"
"As I've been instructed." Anthony said. 'Poor bastard.' Ben thought. He was green, Ben could tell. Maybe a few years out, probably less than five. Whether that was a hindrance or not, they'd see tongiht.
"We should get moving." Ben said, moving from the pallets he'd been standing among. Even so, he remained tensed.
"Indeed. Let's go. Mortimer." Grace was immediately flanked by the man in the suit, her Ghoul, who reached over and the pump of vitae through his veins forced the door upwards to allow them all an exit. Outside, Ben was happy that the guard hadn't made his way back this way. Grace moved ahead, heading back toward a black town car.
"I can fit two in my car." Grace said, her eyes flicking over to Anthony. "You. With me."
"I beg your pardon?" Anthony asked.
"If you wish to go with the cop, be my guest." Grace said, going over to the car.
"...I'm a detective, actually." Sybil muttered.
"We'll follow you two." Ben said, tapping Sybil's arm while gesturing for Anthony to follow Grace. With the trenchcoated one with him, Ben moved toward her car.
"...not a fan of her people skills either, huh?" Sybil asked.
"Not a fan of people." Ben replied curtly, getting into the car as she unlocked the passenger door.
"Hope you're a fan of Benson, though." Sybil said.
"What?" Ben asked, and then the radio blared to life.
"Mmmbop, ba duba dop! Ba du bop, ba duba dop! Ba du bop, ba duba dop! Ba du, yeah-e-yeah!"
Ben listened to the woman in the driver's seat as they took off, following Grace's car...and realized the mistake that he had made.
The twin cars soon arrived at their destination. Grace waited for only a few moments before she started off toward the terminal. This time, it was Martin who accompanied her while Mortimer remained. The others were soon to follow suite. Her mind was already working to catalog them, assessing them.
The Tremere, there wasn't much to say about. Anthony seemed completely nondescript. The word, she remembered, was milquetoast.
The woman...Langtry. Of the Seattle police, but a Kindred. Her Clan she hadn't seen enough of her to figure out. Toreador, perhaps? It could not yet be said just yet.
But the other man...the blonde in his hoodie. Him, she knew. The Wolf of Vancouver. Ben Grayson. She had never met him before this night, of course, but his reputation preceded him. Him, she would have to keep an eye out for.
But the group journeyed into the terminal and, consulting a map, the group was soon on their way to Gate B-14.
"He should really take off his hat." Sybil commented.
"What? What are you talking about?" Grace asked, looking to the woman.
"Mr. Smith. His hat. It's too tight." Sybil said. Grace blinked at her several times, seeing that Ben, Anthony, and Martin were likewise rather confused by this. "...did I stutter?"
"No." Grace sighed. Malkavian. Wonderful. "No, I suppose you did not."
"They're disembarking." Anthony's voice brought attention to the fact that the plane was emptying out of its passengers. Just as she had expected, there the man was. He looked exactly like the photograph they had been given. Balding head, cheap suit...though the briefcase handcuffed to his wrist was definitely new. She stepped forward.
"Mr. John Smith?" The diminutive redhead asked, smiling brightly. The man recoiled for a moment, eyeing her suspiciously.
"Who's asking?" He demanded.
"Grace Penderghast." Grace announced herself, offering a hand. "We are associates of Assistant Dean Brook, and she asked us to escort you to her."
"Oh!" The man said. "Well, that's...that's different, then." He reached up, adjusting his tie. "Lead on, then."
"Of course." Grace smiled. "Do you have any other luggage to recover or-?"
"No, I am...I have everything I need." Smith said, gripping the handle of his briefcase all the tighter.
"Fantastic. Then let's be on our way." Grace said, turning once more as she came to his side, walking with him.
"Mr. Smith, do you want me to take your hat?" Sybil's voice came up again. Grace sighed.
"M-My...my hat?" Smith seemed confused.
"Don't listen to her. She's...have fun at your expense." Grace tried her best to explain.
"Nothing fun about a bad hat." Sybil muttered.
"We should get moving." Ben's voice got Grace's attention.
"What?" Grace looked back him, Ben leaned in, his voice lowered.
"We're being tailed...we've been tailed since we arrived." Ben whispered to her. He'd caught sight of at least four individuals that were attempting not to look conspicuous and were failing miserably, at least to his eyes. And those were only the ones that he noticed.
"...let's go. Quickly." Grace said, gesturing for Smith to move, the others following. Ben took up the rear, noting three coming up on them, all of which had abandoned the pretense of trying to remain at a distance. They were keeping their distance while around the Kine, at least for the moment.
"Get to the car. I'll meet you." Ben said as the group journeyed to the parking garage. He broke off from them and slunk into the shadow. A pump of vitae letting him leap up to the ceiling, another contorting his fingers into claws that he could stick into the stone. As one of the figures passed down beneath him, Ben's fingers resumed their normal shape and reality ensued. He slammed the figure to the ground - a man in a red coat. Immediately, the man tried to push him away, a bit of his own vitae knock Ben back.
The Gangrel stared down his opponent.
"Skulking around parking garages...not exactly smart." The man drew a gun from within his coat, taking aim. "Right. Not a talker." Ben dodged the first two shots, hand snapping and grabbing the man's arm and forcing it up so that the third shot got into the ceiling. Twisting the joint, he forced his opponent to drop the gun. As it clattered to the ground, Ben's other hand formed a fist and slammed into the man's jaw once, twice, three times. The counter came, Ben catching it, but unable to get to the kick to his solar plexus that sent him back. His eye caught the wooden stake his opponent was pulling out in lieu of the fallen gun.
Ben ducked behind a car as the hood was slammed into by a strike from said stake, leaping up and bringing a leg up to strike at his opponent's head once more. The red coat had the foresight to fall back, Ben recovering on his feet just in time to roll back as the stake was lunged at him once again. His hand touched something metallic in the roll, grabbing the hilt of the gun. On his feet again, he quickly took aim, two shots - one to each kneecap. Rushing up, Ben snatched the stake before it hit the ground and rammed it into Red's chest. Immediately, the agonized scream silenced immediately as he seized up.
'Gotta find the others...' Ben thought, knowing well that at least three others were about. Seeing as neither Sybil's or Grace's car had torn through, he knew finding the others was a priority. Ben turned to leave...and remembered a big problem that he'd just staked. He'd have to think of something...and fast...
Sybil, meanwhile, was attempting to defend the happy few. Her gun had been drawn, trained on the two approaching Kindred.
"Give us the man. We'll leave." One spoke, a wooden stake in his hand. Both were clad in red leather trenchcoats, sporting sunglasses. Totally not some of the dorkiest goons she'd ever seen.
"Yeah, I don't think that's gonna happen." Sybil said. "Besides...you'll have to take his hat, and he doesn't want to have his hat taken."
"What the fuck are you on about?!" Grace spat at her, edging herself and Mr. Smith toward her towncar. The man looked...unwell. A problem to deal with as it came up. Grace was probably going to be pissed if he ruined her interior, though.
"Get him in the car, Siren. I got this." Sybil said, her gun trained. The two were cowed, at least for the moment. "So what are you guys? I hate to tell you, but you're about twenty years too late for the Matrix auditions."
"Stop talking, Daughter of Janus..." Sybil's head cocked to the side at those words, her face scrunched in confusion even as she kept her focus. A little voice inside of her telling her to start shooting. Another telling her to leap in and start tearing off some heads. Yet another, more reasonable one, was telling her to call the cops. "You don't know, do you? Of your own blood, from where it flows."
"I'd be more worried about where your blood is going to be flowing there, Morpheus." Sybil said, her finger still of the trigger proper until the moment she needed to fire. Her police training perfectly kicked in.
"All of our blood will flow if you bring that book back to Brook." The Kindred with the stake replied. "But then even a Malkavian wouldn't be crazy enough to trust a Tremere..."
"I believe you've done enough to sully our clan's name." Anthony had moved up to her side. Sybil remembered well the warning of the voices, telling her to watch him. She'd have to do just that when she wasn't trying to watch the two others. "Leave. Now."
"Or what? You'll glare at us?" The second one snorted, likewise armed with a wooden stake. "In case you haven't noticed, we're armed...only one of you is. And there are more of us coming..."
"Your mathematics appears to be off." Anthony said, raising a hand. Vitae pulsed through his body, Sybil could see as light was generated in his hand. "And you are not armed." The light disappeared, and Sybil watched as the stakes...began to melt?! The two men reacted, and Sybil did not have to think twice, pulling the trigger once...twice...with two headshots that sent the men flying back onto the deck of the parking garage.
"Thanks for that. Let's go." Sybil said, pulling open the door into the passenger side of Grace's car.
"Do not get blood on anything!" Grace shrieked.
"Don't worry, their blood spatter was way too far off to hit us. But we should go before they get up." Sybil said. "Now!"
"You heard her Mortimer! Now!" Grace's words were immediately followed by Mortimer cranking up the car and driving them off through the labyrinthine path down toward the ground. Upon reaching the second floor, Mortimer slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid colliding with a mass of blonde Gangrel that had found his way to the front of the car...the same could not be said of the mass he'd been carrying over his shoulder.
That had been hit dead on, skidding off a few feet down the path.
"Are you insane?!" Grace yelled out the window.
"I thought that was my job!" Sybil retorted.
"I don't...feel good..." Mr. Smith said. Ben moved toward the car after scooping up the body...a staked Kindred. Just like one that they'd been attacked by above.
"We need to get out of here. Now." Ben said, reaching over to open the door, sliding the bloodied body into the car.
"Oh, no! No! Not in my car!" Grace protested.
"I could put him into the hood if you like." Ben was quick to snark, chucking the body in and getting in. Grace, disgusted, climbed into the front seat, finding herself in Martin's lap. "We need to move, I think there's more of them coming."
"And we left two on the roof." Anthony said. "The Malkavian shot them."
"And good, too!" Sybil said. "They're probably going to be very pissed!"
"I...don't..." Smith croaked as Mortimer drove the group off.
"Not to mention Airport Security that I'm sure will be so happy to see us. After those gunshots!" Grace snapped.
"I don't think-" Sybil started, but then Mortimer hit the brakes again. The exit out into the street was...blocked. By a row of men dressed similarly to their previous attackers. "Ohhh, that's not good..."
"Mortimer! Keep going!" Grace spat at her ghoul. The man did not have to think twice, hitting the grace and the tires squealed as the car accelerated at an alarming rate. Most in the way removed themselves, but two of them grabbed the sides of the car. A window roll down and another pistol shot saw one dislodged, him flying back as the car took at hard turn. The second managed to put a fist through the window and Ben grabbed it, his claws elongating to tear into the flesh. A strong pull tore the arm from its socket, the attacking Kindred's howls being caught by the wind as he fell back from the vehicle and could be seen smacking against the asphalt.
Sybil was laughing, but no one else was.
"I...don't..." Smith croaked.
"I understand that this is probably worrying to you, Mr. Smith, but not to worry." Grace said, looking back at him where he was crammed between Ben, the vampire he'd staked, Anthony, and Sybil. Her eyes caught his face, though. The light that flashed across him she could see...veins rising up against the flesh of his temples? She blinked. "...Mortimer, stop the car."
"Mistress, you-"
"I said stop the car!" Grace snapped. Her ghoul obeyed her, moving over to the side of the road once they were a safe distance from the airport, pulling into what looked like an disused gas station. The rear door was opened, and Smith scrambled to get out, breathing hard. "Mr. Smith, what-?" Grace was suddenly cut off as the man, crumbled against the ground, was clutching his head even as his right hand was weighed down by the suitcase handcuffed to it. He was screaming as though he were being stabbed.
"What is...going on?" Anthony asked, the others had clamored out of the car as well, leaving only Grace's two Ghouls and the staked Kindred. Smith, they witnessed, was screaming and clutching his head...which suddenly began to distend. He screamed as his temples began to bulge outward and then...came an explosion of blood and gore that splattered across the area.
Grace screamed in protest. Anthony ducked back, immediately wiping the mess from his glasses the moment he realized he was unharmed. Only Ben and Sybil seemed to be completely unfazed by it. Ben out of annoyance and Sybil out of bemusement.
"...well, I told you he should have gotten rid of his hat." Sybil quipped.
"Shut the fuck up!" Grace snapped at her, her evening gown covered in blood and her in a rather sour mood. "This is a disaster! What in the Hell just happened?!"
"A book." Anthony said.
"Book?! What fucking book?" Grace snapped.
"The Kindred who attacked us spoke of a book. I assume that's what is in that suitcase." Anthony said. "A book that the Primogen wanted to obtain."
"What kind of book could do that?" Sybil asked. "I mean, I know that reading is fundamental, but..."
"Something cursed. Or worse." Ben said, heading over to the case and working the combination.
"Why don't you just crack it open with those claws?" Sybil asked.
"I'd like to be able to close again if it's something bad." Ben said, going through all the possible combinations before finally managing to get it at 853. The lock clicked open at its surrender, and the lid popped open. "...shit."
"What? What is it?" Sybil asked, starting to move over before Anthony cut her off, leaning back as he looked forward.
"Good Lord! Is that-?"
"I think so." Ben said, staring intently at whatever was within.
"Whatever's in there better be worth this absolute bullshit!" Grace snapped. "What is it?"
"It's...a book." Ben said. "An old one. Latin."
"What book? What is it?" Sybil asked. Ben turned the case so that the two women could also see the book. It was old, bound in leather. It had been sealed in some kind of plastic, air-tight container within the suitcase, but it's name was plan to see written on the cover of it.
Malleus Maleficarum
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