Night Four

If only this laptop had blood in its circuit boards.  I could be chomping down on it right about now.  Sadly this is not even my laptop.  I stole it from Mika and only as I had no other choice.  We are battering down the hatches around here.  The most important vampire currency is suddenly in very short supply.  I speak of blood, of course, thick, hot, filling blood.  Young neonates such as I could get by on animal blood for a bit.  Now even that is failing, as it turns rancid in my mouth.  In the whispers from others I know I am not alone in my unease.  Strange for vampires, we are still caught in bonds of civility despite slowly starving to death.  How long can that really last?

A strange series of events lead up to the current predicament.  So let’s see.  The last gathering of Kindred was at Saint Sebastian church in Evanston.  I’m just going to point out that Saint Sebastian is known as martyr from his depiction in many paintings.   These gorgeous works of art are undoubtedly the most homoerotic paintings I’ve ever seen.  Penetrate me with your arrows baby.  

Evanston is outside of the city so I took the purple subway line.  Truthfully I wanted to stay in and tend to my studies.  Lord Reynolds insisted that I take Mika out for the night.  As he is my Master for the time being I am subject to his wishes.  Even so I deserted Mika right away.  Leaving her buried in her closet in search of the perfect outfit. 

I arrived at the church and sat myself down on a park bench.  There was a faintly glowing street light and that was enough for my book.  My plan was to stay put and spend the night reading.  As the cold does not bother as it once did.  Honestly I’m not fond of churches.  This was true even before my unholy condition.  Even with the outside being an excellent spot to find customers.

Jim Beasley was the first Kindred of the night.  Smiling I greeted him and he settled against the lamppost to chat.  The two of us have meant up three times.  Each time we grow more at odds with each other.   

Frankly Jim might not be the best Kindred to build my social ladder on.  When our bodies change over to this mystical undead state the possibility for some vices remain.   Mr. Beasley is an addict and I know addicts.  I’ve fished them out of dumpsters in order to go through their pockets.  To Jim’s credit the crack does make him entertaining if narcissistic.  Drugs are something to indulge in on occasion.  When I do partake I take it upon myself to set limits.  Not everyone has such strict boundaries. 

Making conversation I pointed to the peculiarity of vampires gathering in a church.  After the embrace it was clear that religious objets d'art had no effect.  In my living days I had thought that crosses were cursed at the least.   

“You didn’t actually believe that, did you?”   

Well I hadn’t believed that vampires actually existed either.  So trying to decipher which legends might be true or not was beside the point.  We talked about popular vampire shows.  Jim disliked True Blood, as it seemed akin to reality television.  A British television show called Ultraviolet was recommended.  It was a show he enjoyed back either in N'awlin or in Newlyn.  One of these nights I’ll ask if he means either New Orleans or a town in southwest England.  He doesn’t go on at length about fish.  So my vote is for the former.

Soon Jim headed inside to find an organ to play (with).  Music seemed to act as his second drug of choice.  Either it the coke or the sheer joy of his passion but talking about music gives Jim a glow.  Alternatively it is a side effect of many nights under florescent lights.

Studiously I remained dutiful to my studies.  Stopping occasionally to watch Jim pace in and out of the church.  Restless energy poured off him in waves as I sat impassive.  Mika finally arrived and the outfit she chose was almost worth the wait.  The knee socks being a particularly nice touch. 

After a time Jim ceased his revolving cycle.  Long enough to tell us about some impromptu redecorating.   Floorboards were being torn up in the church.  Now that was worth a look.  Hypocrisy is prejudice with a halo.  The decimation of a church had the advantage of being gratifying. 

The proprietor’s name was Alec Wellington.  As you can imagine he was unhappy.  The floorboards were 100 years old after all.  Shipped in special from an undoubtedly important Cardinal’s former church.  However the others had persisted as the hole was omitting a strange smell.  I didn’t know why that was causing so much fuss.  We were above catacombs after all.  Upon further investigation I was told the hole was also talking. 

Between the two I would choose a disembodied voice as more fantastic.  Nevertheless the Kindred conversation revolved around the odour.  Could be the result of enhanced senses.  To me it smelled earthy like moss growing on a log.  To Jim it smelled of rotting flesh.  Others around the hole identified different scents.  As a point of contention the Carthians caught the same whiff as me.  Whereas members of the Invictus detected another scent concurrently.  Doesn’t matter as I’m only under the shroud and not true Invictus yet.

Mika had followed me into the church at my heels where she stayed all night.  Admittedly I am developing an amount of brotherly affection for her.  I’m not often looked up too and she’s quite cute although odd.  Desdemona might have also been present but I try to avoid dwelling on her. 

Roger Lafferty arrived at some point.  Currently he is confusing me.  To get inside his head would take some doing.  If he allowed me it could be good for both of us.  Honestly a good start would be to end my own bullshitting.  Not easy as it’s my protection of a sort.  We have exchanged emails but they were more prose than plot.  Between us it’s a difference of two worlds really.

The floor had been talking about Roger.  At least mentioning his name as well as those of Randall and Simon.  Then it worried me when it spoke of Grace.  Both Randall and Simon were coincidentally to my right so I introduced myself.  Simon Cantwell is the Mekhet's Priscus and wears his hat with perfect flair.  I speculate Randall must be a Priscus as well. 

Suddenly our attention was drawn to a black shroud.  The thing had either appeared or had gone unnoticed up to that point.  We poked at the mysterious object.  Nearby was another female Kindred named Keli.  Even undead she projected a childlike innocence.  Randall saw fit to randomly insult her.  This caused a brief explosion of rapid events.  It accumulated with a male Kindred frenzying.  Eventually I learned his name was Abel.  Such a happening inches from me was both awesome and terrifying.

Although awful it was intriguing for me to gain prospective.  The one time my Beast had broken free it created horrifying destruction.  Knowledge is my only weapon against the demon.  Sadly I couldn’t give the phenomenon my full attention.  Mika had taken to whimpering and pulling at arm.  This was too scary and she wanted us to leave.  Us?

As her own person she could leave if she wished.  Not much would drag me away at this point.  Abel’s frenzy only lasted all of 10 seconds.  The black shroud was the one to put an end to it.  On it’s own power it made the conscious decision to grab and subdue.  Wicked cool. 

Cautiously we peered down at the black blob.  Eating a Kindred had given it new mass.  Naturally we would have helped him …  Keli, however, beat us to that punch.  She jumped on the heap with her knife.  Crazed with grief she started slashing at it.  Later I learned that Abel and Keli were siblings, sort of. 

The attempted dissection didn’t work.  Yet when Keli ceased hacking and merely touched the sheet it complied.  Crawling off of Abel and onto her lap like an obedient pet.  Tenderly she stroked it as it surrounded her.  Now free Abel seemed fine despite many cuts.  His sister whispered gently to the sheet.  In response it whispered back a request.

The sheet had things to say but it needed a living conduit.  So that excluded everyone present.  A tall dignified man at the back was called upon.  This was Alder Vladimir Ivanovich, a prominent member of Invictus.

“Mr. Ivanovich being of the Invictus you would have access to mortals.”

Silently he nodded in way that made me proud to be who I was.  Ah back than the Invictus had blood aplenty on tap.     

In a quest for privacy we moved into the basement.  Bringing with us a hapless human for channelling purposes.  Now vampires are known to be an aggressive lot.  True when questioning an unknown as any other time.  Agitation simmering we sought out our answers.  The entity’s first objective was presenting us with menacing correlations.   

“Julius Caesar.  Ides of March.  Marcus Brutus.  Mark Anthony.” 

If at all prophetic the implied allegory was worrying.  A quick check of the calendar showed three short nights before the Ides of March.  Historically famous as the date Marcus Brutus betrayed his friend Julius Caesar.  Only to later, in regret and defeat, deliberately impale himself on his sword.  Not surprising anyone as Marcus was just that type of guy.  Look at the gossip regarding his relations with Cassius Longinus.  An historical figure that unfortunately went unmentioned in all this.

The future of the Kindred of Chicago was unclear.  In the grand tradition of prophecies key details were excluded.  Including just whom the ancient names might apply too.  It would be easy to assign Prince Grace to the role of Caesar.  Or the role could imply the court as an entire body.  Surely this vague threat originated outside the inner circle.  In spite of everything there was no Brutus among us.  Right?  On the subject of ancients it was a shame BlackCat wasn’t present.  Chances are he once knew Ivan the ambiguous spirit.  Perhaps he would have been able to get more out of him.  

Continuing on Ivan kept to unclear and added picky to his repertoire.  Whether intentional or not water when given by Keli was rejected.  It was my suggestion that Randall attempt hydrating our new friend.  Agreeably Ivan ‘drank’ from Randall’s hand.  Even so it was soon decided to make access to the spirit by invitation only.  Naturally there was some objection but it was quickly suppressed.  Kudos goes to Cyanide Wax for being a vote for the people. 

The warning in his words clearly applied to all Kindred.  Yet those who gripped their titles hastened Ivan away.  Effectively removing my own fate from my hands.  Information on how to save my life I would need from others.  Crowd control was the reason given.  Exerting control more like for the helpless few who remained behind.  Randall swore he would relay every secret word.  Right before he mentioned a bridge he’d like to sell me.

Annoyed with a need to clear my head I left the church.  Out loud I speculated about my chances of sneaking in.  My cling-on held me back with her whining pleas. 

“No, no!  Don’t do it, you’ll get in trouble.  Stay here.”

Between Mika’s insistence and my continued insecurity I complied.  This irritated me further as exerting control does not come naturally to me.  Even though with her it honestly should.

My mood was foul when I walked back into the church.  The rest of the inconsequential citizens waited obediently.  Clearly they were accustomed to handing their lives over to others.  Well I was not!  A few new Kindred were about so I made their acquaintance.  Including Raena DuBois who was the honoured protégée of Simon Cantwell.  As well as a member of the Lancea Sanctum called Javier.     

My fair companion dreaded the now unavoidable history lessons of Lord Reynolds.  Seeking to keep him informed she forwarded a text.  Getting back the simple ‘Oh Shit’ from our normally unflappable Master.  Causing her a fit of giggles and enduring me once again.

Eventually we moseyed over to attend to Jim Beasley’s lecture on the virtues of himself.  Not the first time I had heard that lecture but I listened again.  As the minutes wore by with no word from our superiors even the complacent grew anxious.  Opening a discussion concerning the political structure of the city.  A Nosferatu with a noose was the first to speak of the former Prince to me.  For reasons he was unsure about she had stepped down and appointed Grace in her stead.  Then lowering his voice he confined not everyone was pleased in that unfolding of events.  

At this frank remark there was an awkward silence.  Someone broke the ice by pointing out that anyone would want to be Prince.  Even so the majority of our group responded they would certainly not. 

“I would.”  This is me piping up like an idiot.  “I don’t know if it’s traitorous or not but I would like that.”  My need to contribute overrode my common sense.  Not that I would ever plan a revolt of any sort.  Just given the opportunity, yes I would take it.

“Count on a Vic to say that.”  Javier was muttering half under his breath and glaring down at his hands. 

A Vic?  What was a Vic?  Had he been referring to me?  Victim … ?  Weren’t we all victims in a way … Ah, wait … that son of a bitch.  That was a derogatory epithet for the Invictus. 

“Once you have that target on you there is no getting rid of it.”  Now he was deliberately prodding me. 

“The best thing to do is not get it on you in the first place.”  My response was a very thinly veiled threat. 

From the furious look in his eyes he read it exactly as I meant it.  In my mind we were suddenly jumping across the table.  Using a stop motion Matrix style complete with spinning cameras.  To be honest I bore him no ill will.  Only I want to try out these newfangled vampire powers.  Get it … fangled …  Bad puns aside there was potential I had yet to realize.  Naturally I was eager to see what I might accomplish on someone’s face. 

Before that could actually happen Keli smoothly interjected.  She had been sitting there the whole time with wide innocent eyes.  Although perhaps not as innocent as she raised her voice to capture our attention.  With a sense of wonderment she asked about all the convents.

Predictably Jim Beasley was more than happy to volunteer that information.  After being obviously unhappy at not being the centre of attention for a whole two seconds.  Let us guess which convent he began with.

“Now the Invictus are all about the money.  If you want money they can get you money …”

“Excuse me!  That is not true, they go way beyond that.”  Even just being under the shroud I feel a need to promote the First Estate.

“They are much more than that.”  Desdemona surprisingly confirmed.

Not wanting to deal with Jim at the moment, I turned to Keli.  “They are the aristocracy of the night.  The very power of the night lies with them.  It is they that keeps us all comfortable in our unlives right now.”

My declaration was sent back to me with vague curiosity.  Leaving me unsure if she understood me or not.  Regardless I was enjoying her company.  On her head she had an adorable homespun hat she had created herself. 

“I’m not even going to touch that.”  Jim was persistent with a sharp laugh that was decisively insulting.

Before I made another stab at escalating the fight he continued on.  Looking back I should have been more careful being clearly outnumbered.  However the blood was hot in my veins.  My search was for an outlet and the opportunity to prove myself. 

At this point our own Mr. Beasley was on a roll.  The Carthian’s talked big but did nothing of consequence.  Circle of the Crone pretended to be better then the Brood but the only difference was abstaining from demons.

“I once meant some members of the Brood.”  Keli said wondering with eyes of a lamb.  “I was in Elgin and they seemed nice.”

For a moment we were all stunned until Javier spoke up.  “Next time you see them point them out to me.  That way we can be on the same page.”  Admittedly I agreed with him there.

Finishing up Jim labelled the Lancea Sanctum as religious folks if you were into that kinda thing.  Personally he wasn’t as a pompous member of Ordo Dracul.  Of all the covenants Dracul was the best way to achieve enlightenment.  Neglecting to mention the way he achieved enlightenment was through his nose.

Strain was on the rise as we considered the relationships between the convents.  My remark on tension between Sanctum and First Estate prompted Jim’s best line to date.

“Really?  I got the impression that you were all butt buddies with each other.”

“Wrong impression.  That is absolutely the wrong impression.”  I hissed back and turned to meet his eyes but he looked away. 

Right now I should remark that gay jokes do not bother me.  If they did I might as well stay home and stare at the wall.  At that moment in time I was reacting to Jim’s deliberate challenge.  One challenge that he didn’t have the balls to back up.

Even so good debates are always welcome with me.  This furthermore applies to emotional ones that have the potential of turning nasty.

Once again we were interrupted but this time it was Desmond McQuinn.  As he walked in I heard him telling others to stop calling him ‘flame guy.’  Clearly others had noticed the matchstick but that was a topic for later.  As patient children we had waited so long for answers.  It was good to finally receive them.  Or not. 

The big speech began with the warning that we absolutely could not drink any blood.  Not.  Any.  Blood.  Fasting was the Kindred theme until the Ides of March at least.  This was unwelcome news.  Bad news.  Someone as young as I am burns the little blood he can hold quickly. 

Mika whispered to me that she had a rabbit that we could both feed from.  Well okay I suppose.  Just call me spoiled, as it’s mortal blood I want.  You see there is a sexual element with them warm and limp in my arms.  As they succumb it feeds both my Beast and my desire for power.  Sadly a bunny, no matter how cute, would not do. 

Worse than being denied substance was the omission of reasons why.  Whether this was Desmond’s solution or Ivan’s warning was not clear.  Either reason left me in the same position of being at the mercy of what I did not know.  My discomfort grew as he issued these edicts.  Being undead is dangerous enough without a hidden menace.  

In an effort to extract what I could I peppered Mr. McQuinn with questions.  Regardless the answer was the same.  All Kindred were in danger of both starvation and a mystery.   Upon inquiring after the safety of the Prince there was a brief pause.  Xiao Feng answered with a stern and snapping warning.

“It’s being dealt with.”

Shrinking back into my chair I watched Mr. McQuinn finish his declaration with gusto.  After he dramatically left the church I had a chance to see other’s reactions.  As before they seemed content to let those in charge think for them.  Mika was whimpering again and pulling her knees up to her chest.  Feeling responsible for her I did what I could to give comfort.

The night ended with a few more odd conversations with various Kindred.  Speaking to Mr. Lafferty and Randall I learned nothing more.  To push further would not have been worth the effort.  Besides Roger was regarding me oddly to begin with.  Fearing he sensed my agitation I attempted to quiet myself.  Truly I do not want to alienate everyone straight off. 

When Jim joined into our discussion we expressed our concern for him.  As a recreational drug cocaine could have a place.  When it becomes your whole personality there might be a problem.  Sharing my opinion Roger mentioned quietly it did make Jim talk a lot.  In typical fashion of an addict Jim shrugged us off.

Then he proceeded to prove our point.  Jim made a very strange turn in the conversation.  This brought Mika running with a demand to be included.  Randall pointed out dryly that she had heard all of the good parts.  If there is anything I admire about her it’s her tenacity.  Putting my arm around her I brought her close.  This prompted her arm around my shoulders. 

In regards to our prickly converse from before Jim was dismissive. 

“You know I’m just taking the piss Mate.”

Yes perhaps but perhaps not.  I know of my tendency to be overly sensitive.  Yet every night I go to a gathering I lose more of my freedom.  Even if regarded as insignificant to some my opinions matter.  At this point I am unsure of how but I know I must rise.  I must find a way to become more than I currently am. 

For the next couple days any questions I had did not get far.  For my own good, as they say, I am being kept ignorant.  Having no other option I have buried myself in my studies.  Knowledge is my weapon to cultivate.  When challenged again I will be prepared to wield it. 

My spirits were low but changed when I received an unusual missive.  Both my employer and his ward have not mentioned it so I assume they have no knowledge.  It appeared in a steel cylinder with the crest of the Invictus on one end.  There was another crest I immediately recognized and will not say here.  The words inside gave me a measure of hope.  The possibility of finding my place with the Kindred still does exist.  After all to be of a use is better than being nothing at all.