And, some might be foolish enough to think, would continue into the nights after...
This particular night saw a particular Tremere sending out a particular summons. Sent to a particular apartment building where another Tremere had been squatting at, at least for the time being.
Anthony rolled back down the sleeves of the white shirt he'd been wearing, frowning in the mirror at the now covered bits of his skin that had taken on a slate gray sheen. Under his fingers, they had felt like stone, which unsettled him greatly. However, he was drawn out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. Grabbing the handgun that Hugo had given him and had briefly trained him in the use of. Making sure that a bullet was racked into the chamber, he approached the door and stared through the peephole. Outside, he found a man standing there, someone that he recognized.
'Peter?' He mouthed, recognizing the ghoul of an old acquaintance of his. Theodore Simpson was a Tremere a few circles above him, one who had been among the Kindred long enough to gain the power and influence to largely insulate himself from the affairs of others, within the Tremere and without. Peter was his Ghoul, and was seen often much more than the man himself on the rare occasions that he had to interact with others outside of his immediate sphere.
In truth, Anthony had thought the man had survived the Halloween massacre that the Baali had inflicted upon the class. This was largely due to the fact that Anthony was certain the man would be too caught up in his own studies to notice. Not, of course, that he was anyone to look down on anyone else for doing that. Clicking the safety off and keeping the chain look secured, Anthony opened the door just enough to peer through.
"What do you want?" He asked, trying to deepen his voice.
"Anthony, I know it's you. Open up!" Peter protested. The ghoul yelped as he was suddenly pulled into the apartment and the door slammed shut behind him, the barrel of a gun pressed against his forehead after Anthony's other arm came up to press against his neck.
"How did you find me?!"Anthony asked. "Where is Simpson?"
"Wait! Wait! Wait! Let me explain!"
"Talk! Now!" Anthony snapped.
"He asked me to come and find you! He needs your help!"
"Oh, right. Like I'm going to fall for that!"
"It's true! It's his childe! She's gone missing!"
"Rebecca?" Anthony removed the gun from Peter's forehead, but continued to bar his neck with the outstretched arm.
"Does he have another one?!" Peter asked, exasperated. "She was supposed to meet up with him two nights ago, and she never showed up at their meeting place."
"And what concern is that of mine?" Anthony asked. "How do I know this isn't some kind of Baali trap?"
"I have no reason to lie to you!" Peter protested. "Can you please put your arm down? You don't have to breathe, I do!" Anthony lowered his arm, but kept his handgun ready. "Thank you..." Peter said, rubbing his neck after sighing with relief.
"Answer my question." Anthony said. "How do I know this isn't a trap?"
"Simpson has been locked in his studies. Blackwell tried to get him out and the Primogen tried before him. No luck." Peter said. "When a message came from Rebecca, though, he answered... and she never showed up."
"What did she want to see him about?" Anthony asked.
"I don't know, I didn't read the message." Peter said. "All that Simpson told me was that I needed to find you."
"Why me?" Anthony asked.
"You survived the Baali takeover, a lot of the Tremere didn't. Kindred and ghouls." Peter said. "That, and he technically said I had to find Preston Wilson first."
"Bastard's a pile of ash in that building the Baali torched," Anthony said, "he's only slightly less dead than disco."
"I know that." Peter said. "That's why I had to find you."
"Which brings me back to my original question - why me?"
"Wilson... owed Simpson a boon."
"...ah, that sins of the father crap."
"Well, if I'm not mistaken, you are still Jewish are you not?"
"Low blow."
"Sorry."
"Just the same," Anthony said, "I'm... willing to hear him out."
Elsewhere in Seattle, three other phones went off with a text message from a new number.
Need to meet. Red Rooster. Tonight.
A Gangrel, a Toreador, and a Malkavian all read the message. A Gangrel, a Toreador, and a Malkavian all arrived (at various times) to the diner in question. The Tremere who had summoned them and the ghoul who had come to him originally were also there.
"Who's the new meat?" Ben asked.
"Hi, I'm-" Peter began.
"Someone who will wait his turn to talk." Anthony cut the ghoul off. "Ben, could you lock the door, please?"
"Still a bit miffed you decided to invite yourself into my domain..." Ben commented, going and doing just that, the door locking with a click.
"Please, explain what's going on, Anthony." Grace said, giving the Tremere member of their coterie a pointed look. Once Ben came back from locking the door, only then did Anthony raise and set the safety on the gun he had been holding to Peter's gut. "What the hell?"
"Sprinfeld XD. Not bad." Sybil said, nodding with an approving look.
"This is Peter, he is the ghoul to one of my superiors within the Tremere, Theodore Simpson." Anthony explained. "Peter, tell them what you told me."
"Oh, can I talk now?" Peter asked.
"Don't be a smart ass."
"Right." Peter said glumly. "You've only taken me halfway across Seattle at gunpoint. I'm sure it's fine."
"You're a Tremere ghoul." Anthony said. "The Tremere have been compromised by the Baali. If you've been compromised, you won't be leaving this diner alive."
"I serve Theodore Simpson, a high-ranking member of Clan Tremere." Peter explained. "Master Simpson does not generally concern himself with the affairs of the Clan by and large, preferring his studies and his solitude. He did, however, sire one childe - a woman by the name of Rebecca Benedict, one of the few people he kept in regular contact with. Two nights ago, she had sent a message asking him to meet up, but she never showed up at the location she specified in the message."
"So what?" Ben asked. "A Tremere apprentice went out on a bender. Hardly the first time somebody decided to flip off the pyramid for a night."
"No, you don't understand." Peter shook his head. "Rebecca was working undercover for the Primogen. Primogen Brook. She had infiltrated the Baali." The ghoul sighed. "I think something terrible must have happened."
"Okay, so a Tremere went missing. What do you want us to do about it?" Grace asked. She looked to Anthony and quickly added. "No offense."
"None taken." The Tremere replied.
"I don't want you to do anything, Miss Penderghast. Master Simpson does." Peter said.
"Right, well..." Anthony said, reaching up and taking his glasses off, wiping the lenses. "Sybil, would you mind checking to see if his story checks out?"
"You... want me to go poking around in his brain?" Sybil hesitated.
"If you don't mind." Anthony said. "As I recall, you do have such a discipline."
"I... do." The Malkavian seemed to shift uncomfortably in the booth they sat in, leaning forward. "Alright, well, Peter... if you resist, I'll have to push harder and it will hurt more."
"Hurt more?!" Peter began to protest, but Sybil was already channeling the power of her blood. Hey eyes locked onto his, and Peter's eye began to twitch, mouth drawn down in a frown and every so often wincing and hissing as though he'd just touched something hot very suddenly.
"He's honest," Sybil said after a few more moments, "or at least he thinks he's honest."
"How can you be sure?" Anthony asked.
"Trust me... I know." Sybil said, tapping her temple. "If this is a trap, he's not in on it."
"How do you live with him in there?!" Peter stared at Sybil with abject horror. The ghoul was visibly shaking as he looked at her, as though he'd seen something that had unlocked some sort of deep, primal fear.
"Anyway, let's get moving, shall we?" Sybil asked. "Burning moonlight and all that. Harriet's getting an itch..."
"Who is him?" Anthony asked. "What are you talking about?"
"The man. The laughing man with the empty neck. He dances in the lonely places." Peter was still trembling.
"Snap out of it!" Anthony shouted at him.
"...snap out of what?" Peter asked, suddenly stopping, catching his breath as though he'd just stopped running. "What... what happened?"
"Something to keep the plot going," Sybil said, "best not to dwell on it. Now let's go." The group quickly moved from diner. Grace's driver Martin awaited them, opening the back door of her Phantom, allowing those who would be coming in. Before she could step in, Sybil found her way blocked by Ben.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
"I'm... fine, why?" Sybil asked.
"No, you aren't." Ben said, a frown twisting his lips. "You committed diablerie on a Methuselah. That isn't something you're just fine about after."
"I'm like... ninety-nine percent sure that the voices in my head are mine." Sybil said. "Sometimes they're Dick Clark, but mostly they're mine."
"Sybil..."
"I'm fine, Ben. Promise." Sybil said, her eye catching a familiar visage in the window. Lamdiel smiled and waved at her before vanishing once more. "You don't have to play the big brother. I'm managing."
"Alright." Ben still frowned, and Sybil wasn't quite crazy enough to believe that he believed her. Nevertheless, the troop made their way across the city to not the home of the illustrious Theodore Simpson, but instead to a club all too familiar to them by now - The Moon and Star.
"Elysium. Interesting." Grace commented.
"Master Simpson thought it best as a show of good faith." Peter said. "A rare thing from him."
"So he's either playing into it well or he's really desperate." Ben said.
"He's not-" Peter began.
"Quiet." Anthony said. "We're here." Soon enough, they were leaving the car and entering the place.
"Everybody have fun tonight! Everybody have fun tonight! Everybody Wang Chung tonight! Everybody have fun tonight!" The singing from within signaled the terrible truth of their situation - karaoke night.
"Welcome, welcome! Kindred only tonight!" Isaac Carroway greeted the group coming in, pouring a drink of a familiar red, piping hot substance that smelled utterly divine... if not to them, then most definitely to their Beasts... into a glass for the patron before him. "What's your pleasure?"
"We're here for Master Simpson, Mr. Carroway." Peter said.
"Ah, right, of course." Isaac said, gesturing with a hitchhiker's thumb. "Booth six." He glanced at Grace. "Well, hello, Miss Penderghast." The sire had a smirk on his lips.
"Hello, Isaac." Grace gave her sire a vixenish smile.
"Could you please keep your hormones under control?" Anthony asked, giving the younger Toreador a look.
"Oh, one day you'll meet a nice Kindred who will make you feel all sorts of wonderful things, Anthony." Grace gave him a patronizing pat on the shoulder as she passed, blowing a kiss to Isaac before she moved to follow the others over to Booth Six. Anthony stared after her for a moment, a memory stirred.
2017
"Robin... what's with that look?"
"I've made some headway in our research." Robin said, bringing his lover a dusty tome that he set on the table before him. "Read it, see what you think."
"You've found a new source?" Anthony asked. "I was afraid we'd have to ask for permission to speak to some of the more liberal Giovanni..."
"Pretty sure they're going by 'Hecata' now." Robin commented with a chuckle.
"Regardless." Anthony opened the book, beginning to read from the old, worn pages. The further he got into it, the symbols seemed all too familiar, the formulae was... Thaumaturgy, but wrong. It was as he turned the page and found a Chthonic being, tendrils extended out in many directions, that it began to sink in what it was he had been given. "Robin... this isn't Necromancy."
"No." Robin was smirking. "No, it isn't."
"This is forbidden Thaumaturgy!" Anthony choked out, his voice dropping low. If his face could have gotten any paler, it would have. "Where did you get this? Why do you have this?"
"Lover, relax." Robin said, walking over and grasping Anthony's shoulders. "You know I wouldn't do anything reckless, don't you?"
"This is beyond reckless, Robin! This is... this is sacrilege!" Anthony said, gazing back into Robin's eyes. "We can't even have this. We shouldn't. We need to destroy it before-"
"We don't need to destroy anything," Robin shook his head, "that tome is our ticket to power. Safety. Security."
"You're talking nonsense."
"I am not." Robin said. "The study of Necromancy isn't going to take us anywhere, Anthony. The Covenant is going nowhere fast and soon it won't matter either way. This is all going away. All of it."
"...as I said, you're talking nonsense."
"I have made new friends, Anthony. New friends within the Pyramid. They want to bring change, to show Clan Tremere for what it really is."
"What are you saying? This isn't funny."
"I am not joking. This is the truth. Everything we were told - the Pyramid, our power, our status - it's all been a lie. A terrible lie going back through the centuries, and it's time for that wrong to righted. In blood and fire." Anthony rose at that point.
"Who are these friends, Robin?" He asked. "What have they poisoned your mind with? Where are they?"
"They wait for us." Robin said. "Tonight is the night where it all begins, and I want you by my side... my love..." He extended a hand to him, palm raised toward the ceiling of Anthony's room.
"I don't-" Anthony started to respond, the door slamming open as he did.
"Both of you! Look alive! The gargoyles are going mad!" Marion Ravencroft charged in. "Someone has been performing-"
"Dark Thaumaturgy?" Anthony asked, glancing through his glasses at her, then back toward Robin. His boyfriend of a little under two years now had his hand still stretched out to him as if he hadn't even noticed Marion at all.
2018
"Anthony? Anthony? Earth to Anthony!"
"What?!" Anthony blinked, looking to Sybil, who was glancing up at him with her brow furrowed in thought.
"...you need to watch your caffeine intake. Very jumpy."
"I don't drink... never mind." He said, passing through to join the others. Seated at the table was one Theodore Simpson. Anthony had only seen him rarely, once or twice in the years he'd been a member of the Kindred and the Tremere. He was an older man when he had been turned, somewhere in his later 40s, his formerly black hair having grayed a bit to give him just enough of a silver fox look. Like Anthony, he too wore glasses, though his were thin of frame rather than Anthony's more rounded ones.
"Apprentice Wallace." He said, standing to greet him. "Welcome."
"Magister." Anthony said, being polite, if terse. "Welcomes remain to be seen."
"How do you mean?" Simpson asked.
"I mean, our clan has entered into a bit of trouble of late." Anthony said. "Those thought friends cannot be so easily called so."
"Yeah, alright, George R.R. Martin, calm down with the high fantasy word salad." Grace quipped.
"...you know who that is?" Sybil and Ben asked her at the same time, both rather surprised by the revelation.
"...I read!" Grace protested after a moment of staring at the pair of them just as incredulously as they had been at her.
"Into the booth, please." Simpson said. "If you will. We have much to discuss and I do not wish for ears to overhear and lead to tongues wagging." He gestured to a large, circular booth that would indeed comfortably seat all of them. "Peter, the curtain." The ghoul nodded, pulling the curtain to the room shut once they were all inside and seated. "There we are..."
"This is private?" Sybil asked, her eyes catching the inch or so in the door frame between the curtain and the floor.
"Of course." Simpson said. "Who do you think enchanted these rooms for Mr. Carroway out there?"
"To the point, if you please." Anthony said.
"Yes. My childe, Rebecca. She has gone missing." Simpson said. "Despite my best efforts, I have been unable to locate her. I fear something terrible has happened."
"As I recall, Peter had said that Rebecca was working undercover?" Ben asked. "Within the Baali?"
"At the behest of Primogen Brook, yes." Simpson said. "She was to make contact with me two nights ago, but she never showed up at the destination she had asked to meet at."
"Alright, but you're a Tremere Magister. What exactly do you think that we can do that you can't?" Ben asked.
"You've had some experience dealing with the Baali." Simpson said. "More than most."
"...and?"
"I am willing to give you access to what resources you need, whatever I am capable of." Simpson said. "But I have no one else I can trust. As Wallace said, these are times where friend and foe are not so easily distinguished."
"Well, I guess we'll see what we can do." Anthony said.
"We?" Grace asked with a raised brow.
"We're a coterie, aren't we?"
"We are." Ben said. "And it's time we start acting like a coterie. Especially now."
"I mean, the gang is all here... minus the other four people." Sybil added in.
"You were the original four that Primogen Brook gathered, as I recall." Simpson said. "Yes, Wallace, I do occasionally look up from my work. Particularly now, what with the war and all."
"Alright. We'll see what we can do."
"You know, it's a little weird." Grace said later after they had all returned to her car and Martin was driving them off.
"What is?" Ben asked.
"You being all 'power of friendship' in there." Grace said. "Kind of weird."
"We're not friends." Ben said, looking to her. "We're a coterie. There has to be a certain level of trust and cooperation involved. It's about survival."
"Noted." Grace said, a bit of a smirk on her lips, clearly feeling he was deflecting. Perhaps she was even right.
"We need to figure out where we can find Rebecca." Anthony said. "If she's even still alive."
"The Baali seem to have all gone underground after Lamdiel popped up." Ben said. "They're laying low."
"Well, we can't go to the Tremere Chantry." Anthony said, plainly.
"What about Marion?" Grace asked. "Where has she been?"
"I don't know," Anthony shook his head, "I haven't seen her since Halloween. Before that, actually. If she wasn't at the massacre that night, then... I don't know."
"So you're assuming she met the Final Death?" Ben asked.
"I feel like she would have said something if she were alive." Anthony said. "So, between him, Preston, and Robin... that's three people."
"Three people that what?" Sybil asked. The Tremere gave no answer, staring out the window and into the night.
"Well, well, well... I'm surprised to see you back."
"Hello, Harold." They had come again to see the Nosferatu, Grace staying outside with the car for not wanting to have to enter... that again. Given the smell, none of the other three could blame her overmuch. Particularly not when coupled with the putrescence of their host. Even for a Nosferatu, Harold was hard to look at both in demeanor and appearance.
"What brings you around to see me, Benjamin?" His beady eyes flitted between him and two of his three coterie-mates. "And where is your illustrious princess? Too good to step into my home?"
"She's getting her tiara refitted." Sybil quipped.
"We need some information." Ben said.
"As I recall, our bargain was made and done with that business with Dr. Crane." Harold said, threading his long, gnarled fingers together as he leaned back in his chair that sat before a bunch of computer monitors. "Are you saying you wish to make another bargain?"
"I'm saying that we need information and the Camarilla is at stake." Ben said. "Thought you'd probably care about that, just a little bit."
"...you working for Prince Blanchard?"
"Indirectly." The Gangrel gave him a hard look. "We need to find a missing Tremere apprentice."
"And why would I have any idea where a missing Tremere apprentice is?" Harold asked. "Whole or as a pile of ash?"
"Look, we need-" Anthony began.
"I know what you need, Wallace." Harold glowered at him, cutting him off. "Trust me, I've been watching Clan Tremere's little spat with the Baali for a hot minute. Shit's better than cable."
"Then you'll help us?" Ben asked.
"I will... if you help me." Harold said. "A favor for a favor."
"I'm listening. Hesitantly." The Gangrel deadpanned. The Nosferatu smirked.
"Oh, I won't tell you that." Harold shook his head. "Not yet. For now, I'll give you the information... if you accept."
"Fine. What is it?" Ben asked.
"Very well... a boon has been offered and accepted from your coterie." Harold said. "If you're looking for a Tremere apprentice, I can tell you that more than a few have gone missing in the past few nights. With all the chaos and uncertainty, most of them are getting written off as piles of ash."
"But not by you, I take it?"
"Not after a few nights ago," Harold shook his head, "seems the Baali have been playing around with a few of the cell phone towers in the city, and yours truly knows a few algorithms that let me listen in on them. They've been moving around, targeting the younger Tremere to get them out of the way."
"For what?" Anthony asked.
"Not sure." Harold shrugged. "Although in the few talks I did hear, it's clear that they staked them and dragged them off - didn't kill them. And they've been making some serious headway. I've intercepted at least six calls in that vein, all from the same set of burner numbers."
"If you have their numbers, you can track them, right?" Ben asked.
"Not until they make a call." Harold said. "Didn't really think I'd need to be pinging the towers for a location, just listening in at the moment."
"But you can do it?"
"Of course I can do it!" Harold snorted. "What sort of idiot do you take me for being?"
"I dunno," Sybil interjected, "what kinds are there?" Harold ignored her.
"What's going on with you, anyway?" Harold asked, eyes passing over Anthony.
"...what do you mean?" Anthony asked, squinting at him.
"You keep fidgeting. Like something's bothering you."
"My Clan is turning into shit and several people I know have either died or betrayed me." Anthony replied sharply. "I fidget."
"Alright, alright. To each their own." Harold said. An electronic ringing came from one of his computers, the Nosferatu sliding over on his wheeled chair to look it over. "Oooh, we got a hot one!"
"We have another one, we'll bring them back to the safe house." The voice of a man came through the speaker on the computer.
"Are you sure that's wise? We've already contained so many-" A woman's voice responded.
"Are you questioning the Father's plan?"
"No. No, of course not."
"Who is 'the Father'?" Ben asked.
"No idea, but they mention him a lot, whoever he is." Harold said, listening in with his bat-like ears.
"See to it that they're brought in. And bring the Benedict girl. We need all we can get."
"Of course, brother. See you soon."
"I know that voice..." Sybil said.
"So do I." Ben replied glumly.
"Figured he'd survived being chucked out the window." Anthony replied glumly.
"You know this guy?" Harold asked, hiking a thumb at the computer.
"Anton. He's a Baali." Ben said. "Has a fetish for dressing up in a priest's frock. He and his... brother?... they're the ones running the show. Or so we thought."
"What? So he's not the Father?"
"I would have thought so before, not so sure now." Ben shook his head.
"Hmm... well, either way, I got them pinged for you." Harold said, pressing a few keys on his keyboard. A printer whirred into life and started printing out a page that he soon pulled from it, holding it out to Ben. "Here are the two closest places to where their cell phones were at the time of the call. Gives you somewhere to start, at least."
"Thanks, Harold." Ben said.
"Oh, don't thank me..." The Nosferatu gave a wide, toothy grin. "This means you owe me one..."
Upon returning, they got Grace up to speed.
"So... what's the plan, then?" Grace asked. "My car is good, but we're still not gonna be able to be in two places at once. Even then, they could have moved off quite a bit before we get to those locations."
"They've been moving out of sight for several nights now." Ben said. "That tells me that they aren't moving far and, when they are, they're trying to move as quickly as possible."
"What? Do you have experience kidnapping people and taking them away?" Grace asked. Seeing how Ben's face did not even slightly change from a hardened expression, Grace's eyes widened a bit. "...anyway..."
"They did the attack on the Toreador at that play, now they're targeting the younger Tremere, why?" Ben asked. "What is it that we're missing?"
"The Maw of Lotan was being used to harvest vitae, for some reason." Anthony said. "Not that that's of use to anyone now... I lost it while we escaped from the sewer Lamdiel was being held in."
"Who knows what he might have done with it?" Grace asked.
"He didn't." Sybil said. "It was a fake. The real one is still out there."
"How the hell do you know that?" Grace got her answer by Sybil's raised brow and her tapping her temple with two fingers. "...I'm sorry I asked."
"So... what? The first one was a test run?" Anthony asked, then a realization hit him. "...that makes sense, actually."
"Well, as Grace said, we can't be in two places at once. Sybil and I can take one location. Grace and Anthony, you two can take the other." Ben said firmly.
"I'm calling Hope in on this." Sybil said. "Hugo, too. They can both help."
"I can put in a call to Fabian, see if he can-" Grace began.
"No, not yet." Ben said, shaking his head.
"What?"
"No, Ben's right." Anthony said. "We can't be certain who's been compromised. They've gone after the Toreador and the Tremere. Who knows how many other pies they've stuck their fingers into?"
"Basically, if they aren't in this car right now - we can't trust them." Ben said. "If and when we need to call others in, we will, but not yet."
"Weren't you making a big stink about trusting each other?" Grace asked the Gangrel.
"I said we need to trust each other more." Ben said. "And, even then, I'm not a fool."
"What about your lover girl?" Grace asked, pressing him further.
"She'll be fine, and she needs to stay out of this."
"Does she get a say in this?" The Toreador continued, and immediately regretted it as Ben rounded on her with a hard look. Try as she might to look away, Grace found she could not. Utterly and completely transfixed was she as his gaze seemed to bore into her soul.
"I've already failed her once." Ben said plainly. "I am not going to fail her again, is that clear?"
"...I..."
"Good." Ben said, leaning back in his seat.
The group of four did indeed split up. Ben and Sybil split off from the other duo when they got near a police precinct and a little bit of fast talking and a bit of Dominate on Sybil's part netted the pair an unmarked police car.
"Man, they're gonna be giggling when they read the logbook." Sybil said, putting the keys in the ignition and cranking the engine. "I signed us in under 'Geri Dandridge'."
"And you avoided the cameras?" Ben asked.
"Duh." Sybil snorted. "I mean, I can't shapeshift like you can, but I can be sneaky. Ish. Sometimes."
"Uh huh." Ben said, buckling up.
"Harriet says you ought to lighten up a little more."
"No thanks."
"Depressing."
"Uh huh." Sybil drove the pair off, heading to the address that they'd taken from their half of Harold's print out. "Okay, so... Industrial. Now what?"
"Keep your eyes peeled." Ben said, unbuckling his seatbelt and rolling down the window.
"What are you going to do?"
"Get a better look." In the blink of an eye, Sybil saw Ben had vanished and was replaced with a peregrine falcon with smooth, black and gray plumage. With a flap of its wings, the creature flew out of the vehicle, disappearing into the night. Sybil sighed, craving the nights when she could down a nice cup of coffee on a stake out and watched the area, waiting for any sign of their quarry.
"Why did we end up with the fast food joint?" Grace asked.
"Would you prefer to have taken the other location?" Anthony asked. "I imagine you'd be complaining about going through a dingy warehouse if we had."
"Fair point." Grace said. The place was pretty inconspicuous by the look of things. Grace hadn't cared for such places when she was breathing, and even less so now with the inability to eat. This place looked like a place the middle and lower classes took their two point five kids to shut them up for an evening...
'Problem, Miss Penderghast?' The voice of Marquis echoed in her head. Grace did her best to ignore it, focusing on their stakeout. 'If your blood could boil, I bet it would be right now... wishing you had those two point five kids...'
"Shut up." Grace gritted her teeth.
"What?" Anthony asked.
"Nothing. Sorry."
'Such a shame...' Grace shook her head, trying to shake off the voice of the former ghoul she'd devoured. He was supposed to have dropped away into her subconscious by now, but it seemed he'd had other plans.
"Okay, there's something going on in there." Anthony said.
"How do you kno-?" Grace looked to Anthony, seeing his hands raised, making various gestures as his eyes glowed. "...right."
"Quickly." Anthony said, unbuckling and slipping out the handgun he'd been carrying from his coat, checking the magazine and reloading it, safety clicked off.
"Do you know what you're doing with that?" Grace asked.
"Point and shoot. Not that hard." Anthony said.
"It's a little more complica-" Grace started, but Anthony was already getting out of the car. "Martin, keep the car running."
"Yes, Mistress." Martin nodded, watching as Grace slipped out of the vehicle. Rather than going to the front door as she expected him to do, Anthony instead slipped around behind some parked cars and to the side of the building.
"What are-" Grace began to ask, covering her mouth to prevent a loud gasp from escaping as Anthony rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, dug a nail into the vein, and muttered some words as he smeared blood all over a particular cable running up along the wall. The blood on the cable began to bubble and smoke, eating through it as though it were acid.
"Had to shut off the alarm. Just in case." Anthony said, rolling up his sleeve again. "C'mon."
"I feel like I could have just stayed in the car..." Grace muttered, but followed regardless. Anthony headed into the restaurant, marching up to the registers.
"Welcome to McBurgy's, Home of the-" A pimply-faced teenage boy behind the counter, looking quite burnt out, began to drone out the restaurant's traditional greeting.
"Drop the pretense. Where are they?"
"...I'm sorry?"
"Grace?"
"Got it." Grace said, making eye contact with the young man. "Answer him." The young man seized up for a moment, eyes glassing over for a brief moment.
"Who is they?"
"The ones hold your leash. Where are they?" Anthony asked.
"They took... the packages... into the freezer." The cashier droned. "Boss said not to touch 'em. Said they'd pull them out soon."
"Let's go." Anthony said, moving behind the counter to be stopped by a portly man who had been working the grill stepped forward.
"Sir, you can't come back behind the counter." He began.
"Go away." Anthony met the eyes of the manager. Like the cashier, he seized up for a moment and became glass-eyed before quickly moving away from Anthony as quickly as he could. Anthony continued, unimpeded, to the walk-in freezer. The employees were either scared stiff or otherwise doing very little to go anywhere near the bespectacled Kindred or the redhead trailing quickly behind him. Pulling the lever, Anthony opened the door. A burst of cold air served as a prelude to the sight before them. Several people have been chained up to the ceiling, all of them with a stake driven into their chests.
"Oh, what the hell?" Grace groaned.
"L-Look, you can't be back here!" A man in a button-down shirt, wearing a manager name tag stepped in after the pair. He suddenly stopped, throwing his hands up as Anthony put the gun to his head.
"Who put you up to this? Start talking." He demanded. "Now!"
"Oh, god!" The manager was shaking out of fear more than the cold around them.
"Look, stop. He's already terrified." Grace gave Anthony a look. "Let me try a little more carrot than stick, if you don't mind?" She looked at the manager, making sure to meet his gaze. "Excuse me, sir."
"Please, d-don't hurt me-" He said, noticing that Anthony hadn't put away the gun.
"If you please?" Grace asked, looking back over her shoulder at her comrade. Anthony grimaced, but holstered his gun down beneath his coat once more. "Splendid, now... Kenny. Kenny, can you do something for me?"
"I'll do a-a-anything y-y-you want!" The manager, Kenny, still shivered.
"Good. I'm gonna need you to forget the last few minutes of this interaction." Grace said, giving a casual wave of her hand. The manager seemed to seize up, his eyes glassing over for a moment before returning to their normal tone.
"I... oh..." Kenny blinked several times, surprised. "What... who are you? What are you doing back here?"
"Oh, we're here for the packages." Grace said. "You were just telling us how you kept them safe for us all this time."
"I was?" Kenny blinked.
"Yes. Quite." Anthony said through gritted teeth.
"Oh, yes. I must have. Right." He nodded. "Well, I'll leave you to take as you like. You have my money, right?"
"Been a change of plans," Grace said, "the boss says he'll be sending your payment over tomorrow night. Lump sum."
"Oh. Okay, whatever." Kenny shrugged. "Just so long as I get paid."
"Oh, and you will, believe me." Grace said. "Just a quick request, however... do you mind if we take a look at your security tapes?"
"Oh, yes. Very Raiders."
"...the football team?"
"Brother, your lack of pop culture knowledge depresses me." Aleister shook his head as he walked, hands in the pockets of his white suit jacket, through the tall and broad shelves of the warehouse. "Regardless, we have a good place for it."
"Tremere by the dozen!" Anton said with a grin, peeling back the lid of a crate to reveal the staked individual lying in it, the man's face frozen in permanent surprise as the last face he'd made before being paralyzed. "Shame we can't start cracking them open right away..."
"Father left very strict instructions, not until the proper Maw is ready." Aleister reminded him gently.
"I know that..." Anton said, reaching into the crate and lovingly caressing the prisoner's face, imagining all those horrified screams that the man couldn't make. "I'd love just a few drops..."
"No." Aleister said sharply. "We lock them up here, have them shipped out in the morning. Every drop is going to Father's efforts. Astaroth is supposed to be bringing the batch from that McBurgy's tonight."
"Right." Anton said, putting the lid back into place, then taking out a hammer and using it to re-secure the nails and the board into place. "There we are."
"We do have those two Catholic schoolgirls in the back... I think they could use a trip to see their Maker..."
"Now you're talking!" Neither brother paid any notice or even heard the movement up above. Ben, in falcon form, had heard everything and swooped out of the busted window near the ceiling. Gliding around, he was soon back in the passenger seat of Sybil's car, where he returned to his humanoid form.
"Have fun flying the coop?" Sybil asked.
"Anton and Aleister are in there." Ben said. "There are at least six others, but I don't know if they're Baali or ghouls or what."
"So, Judas Priest and the Man of Wealth and Taste have backup." Sybil said. "Is there where we call the others in?"
"No." Ben shook his head. "They said there was going to be a pickup from a McBurgy's."
"...please tell me it's not the other one."
"Oh, it is." Ben said. "We need to get to that other address. Now."
"There's somebody outside." Anthony heard the commotion from outside as he pulled out the third stake from a hanging Kindred, causing them to scream out from the pain and the isolation they had endured. A few he recognized, others he did not. It was as he was going to pull the stake out of the fourth one that he heard the speech from outside. Yanking it out quickly, he moved out to join Grace and the staff that were looking rather terrified.
"Several somebodies, it looks like." Grace said, noting the figures outside. Anthony did not recognize any of them... save for two. Astaroth and...
"Robin." Anthony said, his teeth gritting as his Beast was once more pulling at its chain.
"Friend of yours?" Grace asked.
"Not anymore." Anthony said, lifting his hands and channeling his vitae. A muttered incantation and Thaumaturgical symbols appeared just for an instant as if they had been branded onto the front door and the windows adjoining it. "There. Got a ward up."
"Will that help?" Grace asked.
"They can still try." Anthony said. "Alright, you all... in the freezer. Now."
"...are you out of your fuckin' mind?" Kenny asked. The gun in his face was the answer he received. "Everybody in the freezer! Now, right now!" The hapless mortals ducked into the freezer just in time to pass the recently unparalyzed Kindred.
"What the hell is going on?"
"I was just studying when I-"
"Alright, everybody stop!" Anthony shouted, getting the attention of all those present. "We have at least one Baali out there, possibly more. How many of you know how to fight?"
"What the fuck's a Baali?"
"Hey, I know that guy! He bit me in a bar!" From the chatter, it became clear what they were dealing with.
"Oh, crap! They're-" Grace began.
"Yep." Anthony said.
"Well, what do we do now?"
"What we can." Anthony said just before the entire restaurant was deafened by a loud explosion as one of the windows was taken out with a shotgun blast.
"Oh my... what have you done here?" Astaroth, holding the weapon in question, chuckled. She tossed it to a dejected-looking Robin, who barely had time to react fast enough to catch it. Anthony noted that his ex seemed to be fidgeting, Robin's hands twitching a bit as if they were uncertain of what they were grasping. "A peck of Tremere and a little Toreador Queen."
"Leave now." Anthony said. "You've lost this night." The Baali threw back her head and laughed uproariously.
"Says the little Blood Witch cowering in the burger joint behind his magic shields?" Astaroth asked patronizingly. She tutted. "No, I think not." Her eyes flickered to Grace. "Tell you what, Rosebud. You can leave. No harm, no foul."
"And I'm supposed to believe you because...?" Grace asked.
"Oh, you're not. But if you don't take the chance, then I'm gonna close the window that I just opened for you and we'll be om nom noming on you for nights to come. Trust me." Astaroth licked her lips. "Me and my brothers get awfully hungry..."
"Gross."
"You aren't taking them." Anthony said. "So, again... leave."
"I don't think I will." Astaroth sneered at him, raising her hand toward the door, beginning to mutter an incantation. Anthony likewise raised his, protecting the ward he had placed. The runes that had previously appeared and then vanished on the metal and glass had returned as the will of the Tremere and the Baali struggled against one another. "Hands! Make yourself useful and blow his fuckin' head off!" Anthony's eyes flickered to Robin, who suddenly snapped to attention. Lifting the shotgun, he took aim and squeezed the trigger. The shelf nearest Anthony's head exploded, breaking his concentration for just long enough to break the spell. Astaroth broke the ward with a loud grunt of effort, the doors being thrown open and slamming against the walls hard enough to shatter the glass they were largely made from. "Advance!"
Anthony ducked quickly behind the counter and readied his pistol, a stray shot blasting the thing out of his hand.
"Oh, give me that!" Grace huffed, snatching the pistol up off of the ground and popping off several shots that forced the advancing opponents to either draw back or find cover to duck behind.
"Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?!" Anthony asked, surprised.
"Daddy voted Republican." Grace replied dryly. "You have any more ammo for this?"
"No." Anthony said. "The other clip was back at the safehouse."
"Alright, then we have four bullets and... whatever the hell is in this kitchen." Grace said. She glanced to the others who had been rescued from the freezer, who likewise were cowering in fear. "Don't just sit there wetting yourselves! Grab something!" The fledglings scattered about, grabbing whatever they could find.
"We're still pretty badly outnumbered..." Anthony said, keeping watch. "And outgunned. Literally."
"Call Ben or Sybil. Hell, even Hope at this point." Grace said. "We need some kind of backup."
"...no bars." Anthony said, checking his phone.
"Fuck!" Grace hissed, taking another shot. "Three bullets."
"I just don't know why they aren't charging us." Anthony said through gritted teeth, eyes darting around to the members of the strike force that he could see. "It makes no sense!"
"Let's focus on getting out of here first." Grace said. She looked to the nearest of the recruited Tremere fledglings, a young woman with dyed blue hair. "You. Check the back door. If they haven't gotten there, we might be able to slip through."
"O-Okay." The young woman nodded, turning and heading toward the back of the restaurant.
"You realize you probably just sent her to get killed, right?" Anthony whispered to Grace.
"Not if she's observant. Hopefully." Grace said, gritting her teeth. "I don't get it. Why aren't they advancing?"
"Because you both seem to not know it when you've walked into a trap..." The blue-haired woman spoke up, her voice a great deal less shaky and her demeanor overall less frightened. She stood to her full height, having just opened the back door.
"Rebecca..." Anthony said, the realization hitting him like a gut-punch, "I didn't recognize you with dye job..." Rebecca gave Anthony nothing but a mock-consolatory smirk as in rushed three men, led by Robin.
"Kill the Toreador." Robin said, pointing a finger at Anthony. "That one is mine." Grace yelped as she leaped away from the register as it exploded with gunfire both from in front of her and behind. Narrowly dodging it, she met the eyes of one of the gunmen.
"Protect me." She ordered. Unlike a mortal, she felt the willpower of the Kindred fighting back against her. In the end, her power triumphed over their Beast. The man turned, taking his gun and firing on his fellows. The chaos erupted out into the foyer, where the Baali attackers were now shooting at each other.
"Subdue them, Phillips! Now!" Astaroth barked from her position behind a support beam. Robin turned to obey, shotgun raised and intending to blow Anthony away. To his surprise, his fellow Tremere gave a bestial roar and leaped at him, grabbing him by the collar as he tackled him back out of the back door.
"Oh, crap..." Grace muttered, trying to sneak around only to find herself face to face with an advancing Astaroth, who pulled her back into the main seating area and tossed her onto the floor.
"And where are you going, little rose?" The Baali asked, drawing that wicked-looking scythe out and tapping the flat of the blade against her own cheek.
"You had it right the first time." Grace said.
"Had what right the first time?" Astaroth asked, giving a superior smirk as she loomed over the diminutive redhead.
"That I'm a Queen," Grace said, taking aim with her pistol. "Now, bow..." Astaroth moved to cover her face, but soon screamed out as just after Grace readjusted her aim and a bullet found purchase in her left leg. hen A second quickly followed into her right. The scythe clattered to the floor and Grace fired off the third bullet, which sailed straight into the Baali's open mouth and out of the back of her head. With the agility of a cat, Grace got to her feet - dropping the now useless gun as she did so - and snatched up the scythe, bringing it to bear across Astaroth's throat.
As Grace was having a run of luck to beat the Devil (an oddly appropriate metaphor if ever there was one), outside Anthony found himself slamming Robin into the ground. Robin, through choking out of blood and aching in great pain, found in himself the ability to laugh.
"Why are you laughing?!" Anthony roared at him. "WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING, YOU BASTARD?!"
"I didn't... didn't think it would work..." Robin coughed up a bit of his own vitae, the smell lingering from him. "I thought the ritual had been disrupted, but... it wasn't. It still worked, just slower..."
"What worked?!" Anthony snapped at him.
"Look at your hand." Anthony did, looking to the one that was in vain trying to throttle his former lover. The skin, like that he'd found on his arm and his chest, had begun to turn that same slate gray and harden into... stone.
"You tried to turn me into a gargoyle?!"
"Did... didn't try. I succeeded." Robin laughed. "Just not in the way I expected."
"Undo it!" Anthony snapped.
"If only I could!" Robin laughed, headbutting Anthony and forcing him back, getting out of his grasp. "I offered you a place with me. Twice... and you rebuffed me both times. I had no other choice."
"You had plenty of choices!" Anthony gritted his teeth, feeling the sting of pain from the impact and being forced back. "You chose to turn your back on our Clan, you chose to turn your back on me! And now you do this!"
"Still haven't mastered that listening power, have you?" Robin asked. The two began to circle each other, the shotgun having clattered to the pavement between them. "I told you that night that the truth needed to be known. That Clan Tremere had to pay for its crimes."
"By siding with Devil worshiping freaks?!" Anthony snapped. "By killing off our Clan mates and twisting the others into abominations of blood magic?!"
"They don't worship the Devil, Anthony... they never have." Robin said. "It's all smoke and mirrors. If you knew what they were really after... you'd be itching to join them."
"I doubt it."
"Believe what you want." Robin said. "But I've seen the truth. The Father has shown it to me, and to all who have joined his cause." The two circled, getting closer and closer to the fallen gun. "Shall I tell you?"
Back inside, Grace's efforts were not in vain as Astaroth backed away from her. Hatred burned bright in her eyes as she reached forward, hands intended to grab at Grace. She made contact just as the wound on her neck was sealed up and she received another as Grace thrust the sickle into her shoulder before backing away. With a grunt of rage and irritation, Astaroth pulled the blade from her neck and once more began to heal up that damage.
"Filthy little harlot!" Astaroth yelled, advancing on the Toreador once more and pushing her to the floor. "I'll be happy to take every last drop of your-" She was stopped by the sound of a pistol going off, and then going off two more times. Astaroth was thrown back, crumbling to the floor once more and struggling to recover. Grace looked back over her shoulder to find.
"Hey, bestie! Sorry we were late to the party!" Sybil Langtry had her pistol out.
"Sybil, I am literally wanting to vomit out all of my internal organs when I say this - but boy am I happy to see you!"
"The feeling is mutual. Please do not vomit on Harriet. She hates when I have to clean her." The Malkavian said, giving Grace cover to come behind the support beam. "So what's going on?"
"Baali, Tremere. Rebecca's a traitor, it seems."
"Ha! Should have known that from her last name. Can't trust those fuckers!" Sybil angled her gun at the fallen Astaroth. "I wouldn't move if I were you. It's bad for your health."
"My men... my men will kill you..." Astaroth laughed, smugly smirking. "Just like they're gonna kill those brats!"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about them... they're being handled." Sybil said, giving the Baali a smug smirk right back that wiped hers clean from her face. A window had been left open and a certain falcon had flown in before turning into the form of a man. Benjamin Grayson was tearing into what remained of Astaroth's men. The first to fall, staked and at the far wall by the door, was Rebecca Benedict.
The rest, Ben was... less merciful toward.
"We have more of these little places... you won't be able to stop us all..." Astaroth sneered at the two women. "You'll never find all of them..."
"Oh, we won't have to." Sybil said. "You're gonna be real helpful and tell us everything."
"Why would I-?" Another gunshot slammed into her body, causing her to cry out in pain as she was suddenly and violently cut off.
"Because I'm gonna pull a Vulcan mind meld on your sorry ass!" Sybil grinned brightly, pulling from her coat a stake. "After a brief word from our sponsors!"
"Come on... I know you want to know. I know it's eating at you, isn't it?" Robin still taunted his former flame as the two circled the shotgun that had clamored to the ground in their brief struggle.
"I don't care." Anthony said, even as he knew the truth of Robin's words. The other Tremere smirked at him.
"I suppose it doesn't matter." Robin said. "Even if you were to kill me, there's no one left that can undo the ritual... so you can't kill me."
"Wanna bet?"
"You couldn't back at the Chantry, and you couldn't at the Gangrel's lodge. I don't think you'll be able to now..." Robin said. "In fact, I know you won't be able to..."
2017
The Seattle Chantry had erupted into pure chaos. Tremere fought Tremere, even the Gargoyles that had been crafted by them were tearing Tremere apart under those who had somehow invaded and were now trying to wipe out their fellows. Through it all, though many fell horrifically, two in particular had fought tooth and nail. One would burn the blood out of the other with a gesture and a muttered incantation, the other retorting with the last bit of his vitae to tear the blood back out of his opponent with a hand wave, the first then firing several shots at the other as he ducked behind a pillar. From the room they had occupied through the chaos of the hallways and even down into the foyer of the Chantry itself, the two fought one on one and neither seemed willing to give the other so much as an inch.
In that foyer, moving among the piles of ash and gore, Robin Phillips was trying to cast a hex in blood that would bring an end to this fight once and for all. A tossed dagger from Anthony's brought an end to that quickly, his hand quickly grabbing a sword from the shattered display case on the wall and holding the blade to Robin's neck.
"Are you going to kill me, lover?" Robin asked, that damned smug smirk still on his lips. "Then do it." Anthony hesitated, at the last moment.
"Get out." He said. "Leave, and don't ever come back." Robin looked upon Anthony with shock and surprise.
2018
Robin made a move for the shotgun while Anthony seemed lost in his reverie. This would be the final mistake that Robin would ever make as Anthony's hand and arm of stone shot forward, the hand twisting and distorting into a sharpened claw that he forced right into Robin's neck. Skin tore, sinew snapped, and bone cracked as that claw tore into him, Robin clawing at the hand in vain, trying to wrench himself free. As he felt the pain of that claw tear through the back of his neck, he knew what was about to happen.
"Leave, and don't ever come back." Anthony said, forcing the claw the rest of the way through and ramming his arm through Robin's neck at the side. The head came off, not cleanly, and fell to the ground. Robin's body began to sort of melt. Not old enough to be consumed by the ravages of time, he left not dust but his body seemed to melt into a sort of pile of semi-solid gore. The flesh bloodied and twitched as he became an organic slop at Anthony's feet.
2017
Anthony waited until he was certain that Robin had left, the sword clattering to the floor of the Chantry and falling to his knees. Bloody tears dripped down his face, him unable to hold back the sting of it all any longer. His friend... his love... gone to him now, in the blink of an eye.
2018
Much as it was in the present, Anthony was on his knees as his found himself weeping. His vitae fell from his eyes and onto the concrete and onto the gore that had once been the man he had loved. He did not react as he felt a hand fall onto his shoulder, not needing to look back to see the person there.
"I'm sorry." Grace said softly.
"Why?"
"I've been here, before..." The Toreador said. "Just like this..." Anthony did not look up, did not need to to realize what was falling onto him.
The rain had begun to fall, washing it all away.
Washing it all away...
The night continued on. A little bit of Dominate to erase and alter Kine memories and some crack persuasive work from Sybil saw the Seattle PD attribute all of this to an act of gang violence. The security tapes had been scrubbed clean as well, credited to interference with the power supply, the same that had taken out the alarm system.
The matter was settled, the staked bodies of both Rebecca Benedict and Astaroth were taken in. While Anthony and Grace took the captured Rebecca back to the home of one Theodore Simpson, Astaroth was taken back to a place that had become all too familiar to the coterie - 1201 Third Avenue. The stake hidden, the pair were able to bring her in without incident and bring her up to the office of the Prince, where Wren Blanchard greeted the pair of them.
"What is it that you've brought me tonight?" She asked, looking with a bit of surprise upon the offering that Ben and Sybil had brought her.
"An interloper." Ben said, looking to the paralyzed Baali. "A soldier of the renegades that are attacking the city. I think you know what Clan she's from, as well."
"Do you?" Wren asked, giving the Gangrel a wary look and getting a flat, blank expression back. She could have divined more by looking at a slab of concrete, though she knew well that he knew as she knew. "I see...well, we have some work to do, then. Don't we?"
"Happy to reach out and give her some things to think about, your mightiness." Sybil said with a grin. Wren visibly hesitated.
"I... believe we have others better suited to that task, Miss Langtry." The Prince said. "But your contributions to the effort are very much noted."
"So... no pulling a 'This is your brain on drugs'?" Sybil asked.
"Not this night, I am afraid."
"Poo." Sybil pouted, turning so that she was certain that Astaroth could see her. "You're lucky. I usually get to keep my promises."
"I assure you, Miss Langtry," Wren told her, "that this one is far from lucky..."
"My childe... oh, my childe..." Simpson looked distraught as Peter assisted Anthony in bringing the paralyzed body of Rebecca in. The library had been set up with a ritual circle at its center, Thaumaturgical symbols
"She's been compromised." Anthony said. "She was working with the Baali."
"What? How is that possible?" Simpson asked.
"Someone in an undercover job getting compromised?" Grace asked, an incredulous brow raised. "Sure, that's never happened before."
"Show some respect, Miss Penderghast!" Peter looked to her, wide-eyed. "Please!"
"No, Peter... she does have a point, there." Simpson said, raising a hand to his ghoul. He cut eyes at Grace. "Don't push it. You are in my house."
"My apologies." Grace said in sudden supplication, suddenly quite aware of that fact.
"I should think so." Simpson said. "Well, I will begin the binding rituals... she will need to be... cleansed."
"As you wish." Anthony said. "I will be contacting you as soon as I have some other supplies gathered... I'll be needing that boon."
"Of course, of course." Simpson said, nodding. "Peter, please see them out."
"Yes, Master." Peter said, gesturing for Anthony and Grace to follow him. They did so, being led back out to where Martin remained with the car. The ghoul had been smart enough to remain in the car during the fire fight, though he clearly had not been happy about the affair.
"Good night, Peter." Anthony said, offering the ghoul his hand for a shake. Peter looked at him in confusion, but accepted the handshake. After that, Martin got out to open the car door for Grace and Anthony and they both entered. Soon enough, he was driving them off.
"What was that thing you slipped into Peter's pocket?" Grace asked, having seen Anthony do just that as the two were shaking hands.
"It's a bloodstone. Bit of Tremere sorcery. Anywhere he goes for a month, we'll know."
"Won't he get suspicious about a stone in his pocket?" Grace asked.
"No, he'll know what it is." Anthony said. "He'll believe that his master put it there."
"Why are you tracking him, anyway?"
"One, Simpson was able to find me in hiding." Anthony said, holding up a finger, then adding another. "Two, because that ritual circle was not for purifying anything."
"What was it, then?"
"Gibberish. But very well disguised gibberish."
"...you don't think?"
"Yes. Theodore Simpson is working for the Baali." Anthony said. "So keeping an eye on him without him knowing? Warranted."
"I guess I can't argue with that..." Grace said, glancing out the window as Martin drove them off into the night.
NEXT TIME
EACH ACCORDING TO HIS SINS
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