Sybil's gun was out in seconds and she pulled the trigger three times. Each shot slammed into Oliviera, sending the Lasombra back and causing the shadowy, smoking tendrils moving toward her and Ben to fade out of existence.
"Move!" Ben grabbed Sybil's hand at the wrist and pulled her along, his shoulder slamming into a side door and wrenching it open. The pair moved out across the lawn, heading toward the street. "Please tell me that wasn't your service gun."
"I'm crazy, not stupid!" Sybil had managed to holster her gun again, having wrenched free of Ben's hand and was now running along with him. "Where the hell are we going?"
"Running."
"What?"
"Keep. Running." Ben led the way into a back alley, sliding around behind the backside of several of the buildings that built up the neighborhood and moving more inland. After several blocks, they stopped.
"If I had breath right now, I wouldn't." Sybil said as she stopped beside a dumpster.
"We have to go back and get your car. They can run the plates." Ben said.
"Good plan, but how are we gonna avoid Shadow Man? Pretty sure I pissed him off." Sybil said.
"You think so?" Ben asked, rolling his eyes. "I have no idea...Lasombra are a pain in the ass."
"He loves her."
"What?" Ben spun around to face the Malkavian again.
"He loves her. Marion." Sybil intoned.
"I don't see how that helps us." Ben said.
"It won't. Not yet." Sybil shook her head. "It could help her..."
"You seeing the future?" Ben asked. "Any chance you could find some winning lotto numbers?"
"I'm a seer, not a psychic hotline." Sybil said. "C'mon...I have an idea."
The ride over to the warehouse was long and quiet. Grace had had one of her better cars brought over by her manservants, who dutifully took her to the meeting place. She had called up Marquis, asking him to meet her at the warehouse in question. With him, Grace had reasoned, entry would go...smoother. She hadn't told him bout Fabian coming along as well. That, she thought, would make things go less smoothly, and she wasn't having that. Not concerning this, at least.
She and Fabian engaged in small talk on the ride over, though it was clear that Grace was not interested in it in the least. Eventually, Fabian just fell silent. Grace took the time to think over everything. Should she trust Fabian's word? It was clear she wasn't getting the full picture here, a position that she was loathe to be stuck in. She had to find an edge, had to get a better view of the situation.
Eventually, the car came to a stop outside the warehouse in question. Grace ordered Mortimer to drive around to the nearby parking lot, stopping under a streetlight.
"I suppose you're just going to wait for him?" Fabian asked.
"That is the idea." Grace said. "You?"
"I'll...make myself scarce." Fabian said, opening the door and stepping out. "When the moment is right, I'll make myself known." He closed the door, stepping off across the lot and out of sight. Grace grimaced. A few minutes passed before another vehicle pulled up, parking a few spaces down from her own car. The door opened, and a familiar ghoul came out.
"Alright. Martin. Mortimer. You're with me." Grace moved to open her door, Martin getting out quickly and pulling the door open for her. She stepped out, her eyes meeting those of Marquis almost immediately.
"Miss Penderghast." The ghoul gave a respectful bow.
"Marquis." Grace replied curtly.
"Shall we adjourn to the warehouse?" Marquis asked. "I've called ahead and we won't be disturbed."
"I don't expect there will be too much to disturb." Grace said. "But, yes, let's go." With that, the Kindred and the three ghouls proceeded across the street to a large gate. Marquis walked over to a keypad, punching in a combination that resulted in an alarm sounding a single tone and the whirring and grinding of mechanics as the gate slid to the side to permit them entry. Marquis led the way. "Which of these warehouses is Corwin's?"
"All of them." Marquis said, looking at her incredulously as though there could be no other answer. He walked ahead, moving along the various heavy steel doors that were shut, leading into any of the warehouses. Eventually, they came to one with "314" marked over it. "We are here!"
"This one? Are you sure?" Grace asked, her tone only slightly edged with sarcasm as Marquis went to yet another keypad and pressed in another combination. The door rattled as it began to lift upward toward the ceiling. A light came on within the room, followed by several others every few paces away along the wall. With the room lit up, Grace could see several crates on shelf after shelf, stretching out several hundred feet to the other side of the warehouse.
"It's here..." Marquis said, moving over to a specific crate and smoothing his hand over it. "The object that Mr. Corwin requires is here."
"Excellent." Grace said. "Let's-"
"Yes, Miss Penderghast. I believe you are right. That is excellent." Fabian's voice got her attention. Grace turned to see the Ventrue standing there, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket as he looked down the path at her and the three ghouls, and he wasn't alone. A group of men, five...no, six of them...were standing with Fabian, outfitted in what appeared to be tactical uniforms of some type, each one armed with a rifle of some kind. Grace wasn't as familiar with guns outside of pistols, having no real frame of reference for the weapons in question.
"Mr. White, what is the meaning of thi-" Marquis began.
"Now now, Marquis. You didn't really think I could let this proceed, could you?" Fabian asked. "That urn belongs to me."
"You would betray Mr. Corwin like this?" Marquis looked shocked. "You were helping me to-"
"I was using you, Marquis." Fabian snorted, cutting the man off once again. "You think I want that miserable old bastard up and among our kind again? Absolutely not. He belongs in the grave...and that's where he's going to stay."
"This is treachery! This is murder!" Marquis shouted at him.
"What you call murder, I call Tuesday." Fabian said. "If you're so keen on seeing Corwin again...these gentlemen and I will be happy to help you join him. Miss Penderghast, if you'd like to move?" He gestured for Grace to stand aside, the men behind him starting to take aim.
"What in the Hell is going on here?!" Grace snapped at them both. "What is so goddamn important about this urn?!" Before either could answer, there was the sound of the doors opening up and down the complex.
"Someone jumped the system..." Fabian said.
"Of course, Mr. White!" Marquis said. "How else would my help enter this place?"
"What?!" Fabian and Grace exclaimed at once, but only Grace got an answer.
"I said that we wouldn't be disturbed," Marquis said, "not that anyone who tried to do so wouldn't be." An instant later, the warehouse erupted into a gunfight.
Marion's van came roaring up to the street corner where she and Anthony had managed to find a wandering Ben and Sybil.
"Well, hello there, fancy pants!" Sybil chirped.
"What in the hell are you doing?" Marion asked. "You weren't supposed to go to him."
"As I recall, you wanted the situation handled. We were handling it." Ben said.
"Which is why you're several blocks away?" Anthony asked.
"And lacking a car." Sybil added. "In my defense, I had an idea. All I would have needed is some fog lights, a pizza box, six chess pieces, and an armadillo."
"And lacking a car." Anthony echoed the first statement, then processed Sybil's 'plan'. ". . .wait, what?"
"Enough of the nonsense!" Marion snapped. "Why are you this far away from him now? I'm pretty sure you could have torn his head off right there."
"He pulled out his Oblivion tricks and we had to move. Car would have taken too long." Ben said. "Also, I'm really not looking for tonight to be the night I breach the Masquerade."
"Wait, are you saying you outran his shadows?" Marion asked.
"No, I'm saying that Sybil shot him when he tried kill us, and we booked it." Ben replied.
"And you didn't kill him because...?"
"I was hoping to bring this to a peaceful conclusion, shockingly enough." Ben said.
"Because the Sixth Tradition is just so important to you." Marion said. "What did you do to Stephen Corwin, by the way?"
"Let's return to the subject at hand." Anthony said. "There's a raging Lasombra. How do we deal with him?"
"Stake him and leave him for the sun." Marion said, reaching into the center console and pulling out a wooden stake. "I intend to do that before the night is over."
"Marion, my love...how you wound me."
"Shit!" Marion almost leaped out through the driver's side window, the wooden stake in hand, as she saw the man standing in her headlights. When she turned to look again, though, he had vanished. "Come out now, you shadow-worshipping bastard!"
"Marion, mi amore!" Oliviera's voice seemed to come from everywhere around them. Anywhere a light wasn't directly touching. "You wound me so!"
"I'm about to do a lot more than that!" Marion sneered.
"I just want to talk. Nothing more." Oliviera's voice echoed. "Put the stake down. Last time you tried to end me, it did not go so well for you."
"If you think history's going to repeat, you're out of your mind." Marion said. It was at that moment that there was a crunching of glass and metal as something took out the headlights of Marion's van, shrouding the area in darkness. Then, Sybil cried out. It was barely visible in the darkness before the van, but Oliviera could be plainly seen...and Sybil seemed to float just slightly above the street, wrenched backwards at the neck.
"This is not a good feeling!" Sybil choked out.
"Put her down! Now!" Ben yelled.
"She's insurance...and a little payback." Oliviera said. Sybil gave another choked gasp as she clawed at her own neck, but to no avail.
"You know she isn't breathing, right?" Ben asked.
"Not what he's doing! Not what he's doing!" Sybil wheezed, and it could be seen the black tendrils coursing from Oliviera's body into Sybil's neck, piercing the flesh and writhing around to widen their holes.
"The human body is such a delicate thing, even for one of our kind..." Oliviera said. "I can break her body in thousands of ways and she still would not meet the Final Death..."
"Your fight is with me! Deal with me!" Marion snapped.
"I have no fight with you!" Oliviera laughed. "But this one, my precious, she has wounded my pride...it is an offense I cannot allow." Sybil cried out as further pain was inflicted upon her. The Lasombra laughed a bit...and suddenly, he stopped. "What...what is...?"
Anthony had a hand raised, his eyes glimmering a sanguine red as he called upon the powers of his Blood Sorcery. The vitae in Oliviera's body was, slowly but surely, evaporating. Marion, realizing what was happening, did likewise. Oliviera's face began to contort...and the glimmer of a Beast appeared in his eyes as he gazed upon the group.
Sybil fell to the ground, his concentration upon whatever force he'd been using to lift her broken. The Malkavian stood, quickly drawing her handgun.
"Round two, jackass!" She spat.
"Sybil, no!" Ben shouted, moving to interpose himself between the two. Oliviera did not move, looking between the other four Kindred closely, as if he were sizing up who would make the best meal. "I made you a good deal...I'm hoping you're not stupid enough to not take it."
"Is that what you think?" Oliviera asked, looking to the Gangrel with that animalistic hunger bleeding from his eyes.
"Doesn't matter to me..." Ben said. "I'm pretty sure you're not looking to meet the Final Death tonight." He watched the Lasombra, seeing him wrestling with his Beast. He was tensed, like some kind of predator preparing to strike. The man was shaking like a druggie strung out. Ben didn't have to look over to see Marion raising her stake, preparing for the moment the Lasombra made a move. Sybil had her gun level for a shot. Anthony was preparing more of his Thaumaturgical tricks.
The Lasombra's shoulders slacked.
"If I must...I must..." He said. His eyes flickered to Ben. "You will go. I shall go...and we shall act as though this night never happened."
"That's not what-" Ben started.
"It is my bargain, Gangrel. Take it." Oliviera said. He looked over to Marion, who was still clutching the wooden stake in her hand. "Another night, mi amore..."
"You're not going anywher-" Marion charged forward, swinging for his torso...which had already vanished, the man melting away into the shadows once more. "You bastard!" Ben caught her hand before she would have plunged the stake into his heart.
"I think we would do well to get out of here before someone gets curious..." Ben hissed at her. "We've already attracted enough attention as it is." Marion stared him down for a moment, Ben able to see much of what he'd seen in Oliviera's glance. The desire to pounce...the desire to flee...she relented, dropping her hand to her side.
"Get in the van. Now."
"What about my car?"
"GET IN THE DAMN VAN!"
The bullets were flying and Grace found herself behind one of the crates. It seemed that Fabian's men were being swarmed by what appeared to be street thugs, and a significantly higher number of them than those Fabian had brought along. Not as well armed, certainly, but greater in number.
Martin and Mortimer had both drawn their sidearms and were defending their regnant against anyone unfortunate enough to get too close. Grace, when she occasionally poked her head out from behind cover, could not see either Fabian or Marquis.
"Get us a way out of here!" She hissed at her ghouls.
"Trying, Mistress!" Mortimer called, plugging another one of the gang members who got too close for comfort. Grace winced at it, but then a bullet whizzed right past her head, slamming into the metal bar of the shelf nearby and narrowly missing her cheek.
". . .you son of a-!" Grace leaped from behind cover with supernatural speed, grabbing a thug at the shoulders and leaning in on his neck, fangs tearing into the flesh until she felt his heated blood start sliding into her throat.
Her Beast stirred, very much enjoying the offering of blood even if not from Grace's usual stock.
"Mistress! Look out!" Mortimer called out again, Grace turning in time to see him transpose himself between her and another gang member. Mortimer fired off a shot that the man dodged and he returned fire, hitting the ghoul dead on. The man dove behind a crate as Mortimer got his bearings, hissing a bit in pain as he likewise took cover, peppering a few more shots.
Martin, meanwhile, was working from the side, glancing through the chaos for the exit as Grace had commanded. He, likewise, was blasting away thugs as they got too close with about the same success rate as Mortimer. Unlike his coworker, however, Martin clearly had concerns that were not sating a bloodlust in the defense of their matron.
"Miss Penderghast!" She heard Fabian call out from the chaos.
"Fabian! What in the hell is-?" Grace asked. Outside, she heard more shouting and more shots being fired. It seemed that whatever reinforcements Marquis had brought were now dealing with...something else. The remainder of Fabian's men were boxing in the gang that were still in the warehouse, the gunfire dying down as a few bursts were ending conflicts left and right.
"The remainder of my new employees." Fabian said. "I had a feeling that Marquis would try to pull something like this. Or other friends of Corwin."
"All of this for a stupid urn?" Grace scowled. "This had better be worth it, Fabian."
"This urn is worth more to me than a hundred pints of vitae." Fabian said. "Two hundred pints." Soon, some new men in the same tactical gear and uniforms from before were entering the place, two of them holding a familiar figure by his shoulders as they dragged him again. He tried to fight, but this was useless as his hands were restrained with zipcuffs behind his back. They tossed him to the concrete floor before Fabian. "Ah...wonderful. Thank you, gentlemen."
"I can't believe that you would betray Mr. Corwin." Marquis was breathing hard, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. "After he picked you up from the gutters...made you a-"
"Made me what I am." Fabian glared down at the ghoul with absolute disdain. "And for that, there is no punishment great enough for him."
"He'll punish you plenty when he returns." Marquis said. "When I get that urn, he'll be coming back."
"What?" Grace asked. "An urn is going to bring him back?"
"She doesn't know much about your traditions, does she?" Marquis asked. His eyes looked to the very mortal men in the room. "Or they, in fact? They don't even know who you-"
"They know that they're well-paid. That is enough." Fabian said. Marquis, to the surprise of both Fabian and Grace, began to laugh.
"Watch this one, little rose." Marquis said. "He'll be the death of you before the end."
"Enough!" Fabian snapped at him before Grace could answer. "The urn. Where is it?" Marquis looked over to a large crate, the very one he had stood at before this had all begun. "Get me a crowbar!" He called to his men, one of them rushing up with one, which he then used to pry open the lid. It fell against the concrete with a clatter, and Fabian looked inside. "It...can't be..."
"What?" Grace asked. "What is it?"
"It's empty!" Fabian roared as he grabbed the crate, tossing it to the floor as well and revealing that it was indeed empty as he claimed. Marquis was laughing again. A sudden, loud thud got Grace's attention and she turned in time to see Marquis leaping up, having snapped the cuffs in a fit of vitae-empowered strength and knocked one of Fabian's mercenaries aside, taking their gun and pointing it at her.
"I guess you won't have to worry about him at all, will you, Princess?" He smirked, his finger starting to squeeze the trigger.
"Mistress, no!" Mortimer rushed forward as a volley of bullets sailed through the air from the gun, the weapon's semi-automatic nature sending bullet after bullet into the ghoul.
"NO!" Agony exploded from Grace's throat in the form of sound, but too late as Mortimer fell backwards onto the concrete, body jerking spasmodically for a few seconds before lying still.
"Second time's lucky, huh?" Marquis once more aim the gun and pulled the trigger...hearing a click. He'd emptied the magazine into Mortimer. When he realized this, the revelation flashed in his eyes...and it was the last thought he had before one hundred and twenty-five pounds of Toreador slammed into him and he was slammed into the shelf. His back made a sickening crack as he hit it, crying out in pain, before falling onto his face on the concrete floor.
"Kill my boy, will you!?" Grace howled at him, rage burning in her eyes as she raised a pair of clenched fists with the intent of striking.
"Y-Your...your wha-?" Marquis gasped out before Grace slammed both fists down on his head, forcing him into the concrete again. He coughed up a bit of his blood with the impact, fighting in vain to recover from the ordeal.
"Where is the damn urn?!" Fabian spat at him, though his rage was utterly paltry compared to what was burning in the eyes of the Toreador.
"I...I don't know..." Marquis choked out. "Even if I did...I wouldn't tell you." He spat up some more of his blood at his head lifted again, a tooth going with it as he once more started to laugh. "How pathetic...you've come so far only to have to kill me now..."
"I'm not killing you." Fabian said. "Now she, on the other hand...she, I promised ten pints of vitae to."
". . .w-what? WHAT?!" Marquis was suddenly pulled to sit up by Grace's hand clutched around his throat.
"Gentlemen...let us withdraw." Fabian said, gesturing for his commandos to move out. They did so without question, though some looked back a little worriedly to the leftovers from the chaos and to the five foot six woman who was holding a grown man in her grip and looking like she was about to murder him. Fabian merely brushed off the shoulder of his suit, reached into his pockets to find a cell phone that hadn't been destroyed by bullets, and started out himself.
He looked back to see Martin, Grace's other ghoul, lifting up the body of Mortimer under the arms as if to drag him away. Grace, meanwhile, had her eyes locked with Marquis...and the man gave one final scream as Grace's fangs sank into his neck...and she began to drink deeply.
Her Beast, for the first time in many years, was delighted...
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