"I don't want to lose you, this good thing
That I got 'cause if I do
I will surely
Surely lose a lot"
She dominated the stage. Hell, she dominated the whole damn club. Isaac's band played behind her, certainly, but she was the star of this show and she knew it well. They existed to elevate what was already perfection. All eyes were on her, and she was reveling in it, he knew.
"'Cause your love is better
Than any love I know"
She gave a saucy wink toward him as she cupped her microphone in her perfectly manicured hand. Oh, yes, she knew the power she held over him. All too well.
"It's like thunder, lightning
The way you love me is frightening
You better knock, knock on wood, baby"
She swayed in that cream colored dress, the fox fur about her shoulders as that raw energy flowed from her as surely as vitae from a warm body. Something that, just for a moment, made him feel as though his undead heart could beat again.
"Baby
I'm not superstitious about ya
But I can't take no chance
You got me spinnin', baby
You know I'm in a trance"
He shifted in his seat, his eyes being pulled away only for the briefest of moments as he saw the far door open. Two men entered. Isaac did not recognize them and, for the moment, his bouncer was taking care of it. A Brujah woman who needed a bit of work, she did the job admirably for the Moon and Star. He hadn't had any problems in the nights since he'd hired her.
Had to throw the underdog a few scraps every now and then, after all.
"'Cause your love is better
Than any love I know-"
Isaac was far too entranced in Grace's singing, at first, to hear the commotion. Blows landing, a table being smashed. Up until a table was actually thrown onto the stage and nearly hit Grace, stopping her song, Isaac was fully entranced. While Grace managed to dodge, Isaac leaped up from the booth he'd been sitting in. He felt the Beast pulling at him, at the edge of Frenzy.
"Who dares to-?!" He started, turning toward the commotion. His bouncer had been staked into the near wall and the entire place was now so silent that one could hear a pin drop. Fortunately, tonight had been only Kindred and Blood Dolls. A typical Tuesday.
"The Prince would like a word with Miss Penderghast." Isaac recognized one of the towering men. A Hound. Immediately, the Toreador's eyes widened.
"This bar is has been declared an Elysium." Isaac crossed his arms over his chest. "Violence is not permitted here. Disciplines even less so."
"We didn't need to use Disciplines on your mutt." The other of the two men stared him down. But the first, the Hound, raised a hand to him.
"As I said. We are here for Miss Penderghast. Prince Blanchard's orders." He told Isaac.
"Well, I'm the Keeper here and-" Isaac started.
"No, Isaac. Don't." Even without her song, her voice got to him. Soothed him. Stopped in his tracks, he turned to her.
"Grace, I-"
"I know." Grace said, casting a half-glance to the two men. "And I leave on my own terms, not your own. If the Prince wishes to see me, then I shall, of course, oblige her."
"Then our job is complete." The Hound said, turning to his compatriot. "Let's go." With that, the two turned to leave.
"Martin! Mortimer! Get the car ready." Grace said, clapping her hands. Isaac, quite irate, moved over and yanked the stake from his bouncer's heart. She jerked a bit as she regained mobility.
"Are you alright, Hope?" Isaac asked.
"Besides having a chunk of wood shoved into my chest, I'm fine." Hope muttered, tugging down on her shirt, lamenting the newly-created hole in it. "...this cost me thirty-five dollars..."
"I'll be happy to buy you a new one." Isaac waved her off, turning to see Grace and her ghouls leaving without so much as a goodbye. He sighed.
"Real hung up on her, boss?" Hope asked him. Isaac shot her a look that could have cut through steel..or jammed another wooden spear into her heart. "Geez, sorry..." She muttered, holding up her hands and dropping the issue without another word.
"Get back to work." Isaac said. Some others in the bar were looking nervously in his direction, and Isaac was made abundantly aware of that fact as the silence settled in once more following the departures. "...what are you all staring at? Keep the drinks flowing, get the next act onstage! Now!" Hope had retreated and, as Isaac settled back into his booth with a glare on his face, one of the band rushed backstage to call up the next act.
Angelica Knox walked down the sidewalk from her car with a cardboard box balanced in her arms. Within were some canned foodstuffs, non-perishables that would help refill the kitchens. At least for another week or two. Such donations were how she kept things running. She walked up the stone steps, her eyes glancing up at the sign over the door "Haven of Hope". She pressed the intercomm panel, hoping to catch someone still in the office who could let her in. No such luck, it seemed.
"Hell of a time to go pee." She muttered under her breath, huffing as she balanced the box against the wall and her thigh, digging in her pocket for her keys. "...ah, it's in the other one." She shifted quickly, digging in the other pocket and pulling them out. The key slipped into the lock and she turned it, pulling the door open. She jumped in surprise and yelled out as a hand caught the door as it opened...from behind her.
"Sorry! Sorry!" It was a male voice behind her, nearly drowned out by the clanking of cans against the ground as they fell from the box she had been carrying.
"Oh, fiddlesticks!" Angelica muttered as she fumbled to catch a can, it slipping from her hand and hitting the pavement anyway. Luckily, none of them seemed to have busted. She blinked a few times as she realized that a sizable stack of them were being handed back to her...but a blonde man about a head taller than her. He had a good lantern jaw, coated by stubble. His eyes were a bright blue, and they were looking right at her. "Ummm, I..."
"I think these are yours?" He asked her.
"Uh...yeah..." Angelica muttered as she reached down to pick up the box, letting him set the cans back into them. "S-Sorry about that..."
"I'm...the one who should be saying sorry." The man said, putting the cans back into the box, then moving to pick up a few others that had fallen.
"Say we split the difference? I'm just a bit clumsy." Angelica laughed slightly, picking up a few herself. Between the two of them, the cans were soon up. "Uh, I'm Angelica. My friends call me Angel." She said, introducing herself as she offered a hand to him.
"I'm..." He took her hand, shaking it. "Ben. People call me...Ben."
"Alright then, Ben." Angelica shook his hand, then resumed holding the box. "I'm sure you get this a lot, but do you normally startle people carrying boxes in the early evening?"
"Normally not, though. At least not on Mondays." Ben replied. "I was...actually bringing something of my own here." He gestured, and Angelica looked to see another box, this one had been filled with rather meticulously folded clothing.
"Oh, really? That's...really nice of you." Angelica said. "Well, if you get it, you can come in with me...otherwise you might be waiting out here all night."
"Thanks. Need some help with yours?" Ben asked her.
"Uh, I think I-" She started, but Ben had taken hers by the time she spoke up, holding a box under each arm. She noted, too, that he definitely lifted as the kids put it. Angelica quickly went back to the door and unlocked it with her key, opening it so Ben could enter. She followed after him, the door closing behind her. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it." Ben said. "Where do these need to go?" Angelica directed him to a small area that had been marked off for such.
"So...I assume that you don't just drop off donations to shelters?" Angelica asked.
"What do you mean?" Ben asked.
"I've seen you here before, thinking back on it." Angelica said. "Dropping off stuff every so often."
"Oh, uh...no." The man shook his head as he came back from where he'd set the boxes down, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "I, uh...work in security. Sort of."
"Security sort of?" Angelica asked, raising a brow.
"Yeah. Just a couple of places around town." Ben said. His gaze didn't break, his eyes kept on hers. Normally, a sure sign of him telling the truth...or being a practiced liar. She didn't think he was lying, per se...but there was an air to him of not being entirely truthful. Still, nothing to worry about. At least not yet.
Besides, she did have mace.
"I see." Angelica said, nodding. "Well, thank you for the donations at any rate. Every little bit helps."
"You're very welcome, Miss Knox." Ben said, giving a smile. She raised a brow.
"How did-?" She was stopped by him pointing back and over her shoulder. The door to her office was within sight, the peeled letters reading 'Angelica Knox' with 'Supervisor' beneath. "Oh...right."
"Sorry, I guess I should have-" Ben started.
"No, no, no. You have eyeballs. I should have known." She joked, eliciting a laugh from both of them. After a few seconds, however, the laughter faded. Then came silence. "So, uh..."
"Uh, yeah...sorry, I should uh...get going." Ben said, gesturing toward the door with a thumb. "Nice meeting you." He started back toward the door they'd come from. Angelica watched him leave (and it was quite the sight, she had to admit), finding his whole demeanor...a little odd.
"It's not like you're yourself every night, you know..." She muttered to herself as she walked up to that office door, opening it and getting to the work at hand.
That had gone...well. That's what he told himself as he walked down the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets. If he were still breathing, the breeze of October might cause a slight chill to his being. That hadn't been the case in decades. His shell of an existence didn't allow for such things.
"If you brooded any harder, you face would free that way."
Ben stopped, hearing the voice behind him.
"Sybil?"
"I hope so. If not, I'm in a lot of trouble." The Malkavian stepped from the shadows. "How'd you know it was me?"
"You breathe too loud." Ben said. If he had had any humor on his face, one might have considered that a joke.
"Darn!" Sybil snapped the fingers of her right hand. "I'll have to work on that."
"I'm assuming you didn't come to chat?" Ben asked her.
"Do Kindred ever show up to just chat?" Sybil asked, scooting up a little closer to the Gangrel. "Word on the street is that there have been kidnappings. Of Kindred. Prominent ones."
"I'm listening." Ben said, leaning back against a brick wall, arms crossing his chest.
"The Prince is apparently looking for individuals to look into it." Sybil said. "Us, specifically."
"Us?" Ben asked. "Why?"
"Apparently the turn we did for Brook got some attention." Sybil shrugged. Ben sighed.
"Of course it did."
"Can't stick around in the shadows forever, Benny Boy."
"Don't call me that."
"Fine." The Malkavian raised her hands defensively. "But if I had to put money on it, we're both due from a visit by one of the Hounds very soon."
"Right now, in fact." Ben turned to see a man walking up to them from an alley. He was tall, lanky, and deathly pale. He had a pair of black eyes that reminded Ben of patches of midnight shined as the lights of the city were reflected in them. Both of his hands were in his pocket.
"Winston." Ben said tersely, regarding the vampire before them.
"No time for pleasantries, Mr. Grayson. Prince Blanchard would like a word." Winston said, his eyes flicking between Ben and Sybil. "Both of you, in fact."
"Marvelous!" Sybil said. "Let's go!" She moved to follow him, then suddenly stopped.
"...the fuck's with her?" Winston asked, noticing that the Malkavian had stopped dead in her tracks, frozen like a statue.
"I have no idea." Ben said, reaching over to tap Sybil on the shoulder. "Sybil?"
"Hmm?" Sybil blinked, looking to the Gangrel. "Oh, sorry...passing thought..." Ben raised a brow. Malkavians were a tricky bunch to deal with, no way to tell whether the things they heard were just voices in their head or the truths of Cassandra herself. Or, possibly, both. He'd long since stopped trying to figure out that particular joyful quirk of Caine's curses on Kindred. With her seeming not phased by whatever the hell just happened (and Winston growing impatient), they moved along with him.
"The serpent lies behind his eyes. Always lying, always fangs bared.."
The words rang in Sybil's head, confusing her. The whispers were a constant nuisance, but they sometimes were quite right. As she had moved to follow Winston, the moment her eyes had clapped onto him after accepting, the words had come. She did not need her Auspex to see that something was very, very wrong. Specifically with him. What that was, however, was anyone's guess including her own. The Malkavian had a mind to watch him carefully going forward.
At Winston's direction, they got into his rather nice sports car and he drove them to a place that was known as a major landmark and tourist attraction to the Kine, but also held great significance to Seattle's Kindred population - 1201 Third Avenue. It was approaching eight o'clock by the time they arrived, Winston hurried rushing them out of the car. Now standing before the court of Prince Wren Blanchard, the two Kindred walked up to the front doors.
"I had a feeling you would be called in." The voice of Grace Penderghast got Sybil's attention, and she turned her head to see the Toreador standing with her two Ghoul manservants. Her expression slacked as she saw Sybil. "Oh...you as well."
"Hey there, bestie!" Sybil said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to Grace's disdain.
"No." Grace said flatly.
"I guess that nobody stays out of the Jyhad forever." Ben muttered, Sybil turning back to him and ignoring Grace once more.
"Her voice isn't of the Rose." Sybil said, the words just coming to her from nowhere.
"What the hell did you just say?" Grace narrowed her eyes.
"Hmm?" Sybil asked, then waved her off. "Something about cinders in Spain, I expect." Ben had already started forward toward the room where Blanchard made her throne. Sybil and Grace were both quick to follow him.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Good God."
"Not quite, I'm afraid." As if the troubles the Tremere were going through were not enough, this had to happen. Ever since the successful return of the Malleus Maleficarum to Brook, Anthony had found himself on the next Circle of Mystery and found himself under her more direct guidance. This suited him fine, although he found himself getting only a minuscule amount of more free time to pursue his studies.
As of now, though, he had been made privy to some rather disturbing information that pushed that from his mind for the moment.
"Is there any way it could be a mistake?" He asked.
"Doubtful." Brook said. "And I doubt that anyone from the Prince's court has yet caught onto it." The Primogen seemed confident of that statement, though she'd never made a statement that seemed lacking in confidence as far as Anthony could remember. "The Prince will be sending for you within the hour. I expect you to fully document and give a full report."
"Of course, Primogen." Anthony nodded.
"Good. If we are to stop this encroachment, we shall need all the resources we can get."
That had been an hour ago. True to Brook's prediction, one of the Hounds had come to deliver a message that he was being requested. Anthony had gone with him, and now he stood at the doors into the court of Wren Blanchard, as had been requested and required. Walking in and being greeted by none other than the Sheriff himself, Anthony moved to find three familiar figures standing before the Prince herself.
Wren Blanchard was a Ventrue, as it was well known. But her beauty was akin to that of those of the Clan of the Rose. Her face flawless, her figure impeccable from her human days, and her very voice seemed to kindle a heat within the hearts of men. But as it was with so many predators in nature, it was a cover, a facade, a lure. She had ruled Seattle for the last nine decades for good reason, and the sun seemed as though it would never rise on her little empire on the West Coast.
"So...you have finally arrived." The Prince leaned languidly back in her chair. "It is about time."
"I apologize for my tardiness, Prince Blanchard." Anthony bowed his head respectfully.
"Your apology is noted, Tremere." Blanchard said, her eyes flickering between the four of them. "Now, I am given to understand that you have heard the rumors that have been spread around our city, no? Something concerning the disappearance of our kind?" The four nodded. "Excellent. I can tell you, at least to a degree, that the rumors are true. There have been disappearances of Kindred in our fair city. And you four, I have chosen to discover what connects them."
Silence followed. Anthony wasn't quite sure what to think. He did not glance at Ben, Grace, or Sybil, though he was certain they were pondering the same things in their minds as well. Already, Anthony was thinking of the reasons why this might have been allowed to go on for so long that the rumor mill had built up around it. To say nothing of the truth behind it all, if Primogen Brook were right.
"If you have any questions, now is the time." Blanchard said, leaning forward in her chair for the first time since they'd entered.
"How many have been confirmed to be missing?" Sybil cut off Anthony before he was able to speak the question himself.
"At least thirteen." Blanchard told her. "Some signs of struggle with some, not so with others. My seneschal will give you the list that has been compiled of their names and residences." She snapped her fingers, and indeed Seneschal Michael Jenkins - another Ventrue - came up and handed a piece of paper into Sybil's hand. "Is there anything else?"
There was silence again for a long moment, she nodded. "Very well, then...you are dismissed. I look forward to seeing the results of your work." She waved them off. Bows and quick words of thanks were given and the four were shuffled quickly from the room.
"Are you certain that this is a good idea?"
"If I had wanted to handle it myself, I would have. And still could." It was only a short time later, in a small chamber off of the main Court. Jenkins was being a neurotic as always. It was something that grated on her less over the decades, but it still did grate on her.
"But to allow these activities to continue on unchecked is-"
"After tonight, if these Kindred are as resourceful as it is said, then they should not have any trouble following the trail of breadcrumbs." She cut him off. "And I never said anything about leaving them unchecked..."
"...of course, my Prince."
"Fear not, Jenkins." Blanchard pressed a hand to the taller man's cheek, patting it almost mockingly as if chastising a child. "All will be well." She moved without another word to him toward the spectacular view at the window before her. This was Seattle, the city that she owned, the city that was hers in all of its glory and splendor. Already, the Prince had made her next move to keep it that way. In a few hours, the sun would rise, and it would rise on a Seattle that was still hers. Right where it belonged.
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