Why did I distribute my blog? Surely, it would have been more convenient and safer to keep it to myself. There is a driving need in me to share and show myself to those who care to look. This is not for a plea of sympathy or understanding. Only because it is all too much to keep down inside. My awareness of my life and my place in it needs to visible to others who wish to learn. This is my driving need and if not proclaimed through my blog then I will find another way.
Right now, I am in a vault. There was a cot here at one point but it is long since destroyed. Across from me, there are shelves with important documents and fragile items that I cannot touch. This is a small vault and having them there is torture. After the Prince’s punishment, my arms were useless for many nights. The pain was unreal, unbelievable, and seemingly without end. Not yet once could I allow my Beast to come out.
All day long, I must fight him down as I contend with pain unimaginable. Often my struggle is mine alone but at times, I have an observer. In a haze of pain, I look up and Ivanovich is sitting there. Staring at me and when my bloodshot eyes focus, he talks to me. Automatically I answer back. There are girls, gorgeous girls he brings me. Submissively they bare their necks to me and I drink.
Occasionally I am allowed out. My route to fresh air is through a complicated series of tunnels and lifts. Where I am permitted to make a call or check my email. Then I am returned to the darkness of the vault and its six metal walls. When there is nothing else the pain is everywhere and everything. When light peaks through, I look at the deep gashes in my arms. Watching as the blood works to repair bones, nerves, muscle and skin. This does not happen nearly fast enough. My Beast wants to rage against the sting. Only even when I cannot see them, I can feel the shelves located precariously there.
This is my punishment for being careless. My soul rages in a battle of man verses monster with only brief respite. My low self worth did not allow me to trust in the power of my own words. Assuming I was insignificant put the city in danger. Honestly, I thought I could write anything and put it on-line. Thinking it would not be viewed as nothing more than a construct. Now Elysiums are closed down as Chicago pulls in to protect herself. It turn out my blog was read and then it was believed.
At the last gathering The Nosferatu were in charge. The prospect made me nervous but not nearly as much as I should have been. Sources rumored the clan was predominantly irritated by me. Inexplicably they had located my blog and proceeded to post less than glowing reviews. The Nosferatu I knew of in the city were Mae, Philip Malapek, Black Cat, dude with the bandana, and Randall. In particular, I was ashamed of Mae being aware of my foolishness.
With all this in mind, I decided to take extra precautions. An associate of Mr. Jeremy Evans named Keller offered me a unique solution. After my humiliation on the public message board, I owed Mr. Evans a minor boon. If I agreed to update it to major, he would provide a fantastic way to relieve my worries. As well as increase my beauty to amazing proportions.
Refusing to see the downside helped me agree to his terms. Grandly he showed me a jacuzzi filled with bubbling blood. As I took in this sight, he explained it as a power of a Nosferatu bloodline called Galloi. Carefully I removed my clothing and full immerged myself in the hot Vitae. Oh heaven, it was miraculous as it seeped into my pores.
This left me feeling deliciously renewed as I headed to the gathering. Yet, even before I arrived, I was waylaid by Sydney. Being a Merket, she knew before I did of the impending trouble before me. Breathlessly she told me of my latest mistake. It seemed I had spoken out of turn concerning the Invictus in a public park. For a moment, I blinked at her confused. Yes, I had been in a park recently with Kindred. The Invictus might have been mentioned …
What I did remember was speaking conversationally about feeding. It was said carelessly within earshot of a scourge member named Einar. Before here known as the Gangrel of the sideways jaws. At the time, he pointed out my lack of filter and urged me towards discretion. Startled I had complied and proceeded to forget about it. Clearly, Einar had not forgotten but it went beyond that. With regret Sydney told of a changeling who now thought my name was Invictus.
This recent trouble should have been enough to spend me on my way. Unfortunately, it is in my very nature to tempt fate. Besides this was my chance to visit a Nosferatu underground city. Passing up such a novel opportunity was not an option. Down the freight elevator, I went into the dirty, stinking abode. It was exactly what I expected and perfect in everyway.
Until the Nosferatu Black Cat, Keller and others started my night by mocking me. Leaving me feeling flustered as I sought to maintain decorum while defending myself. This was all brought to a head when Alex Wellington turned it from playful into serious. Fiercely he asserted his opinion that I was not ‘Master’ of anything and did not deserve the title in the least. While I sputtered uselessly, he walked away.
The others grinned at my discomfort and pointed out I was entirely to slow with my comebacks. Relentlessly they continued pushing my buttons until I gave them what they wanted. My most flirtatious gesture had them laughing aloud.
My satisfaction with that did not last long as Einar appeared and called me away. Wearing that face I simply hate to be extra convincing. That redneck Merket named JJ followed us. Amusingly JJ wasted a whole ten minutes refusing to let Einar talk to me. He continued his rapid-fire questions and other nonsense continued until the Grangel deliberately scared him away.
The words of Einar were not new as he recapitulated Sydney’s warning. The free speech of Kindred matters in the open air was unappreciated. My response was to look chagrinned and accept blame. The opportunity was missed to question his reasoning in sharing my mistakes with others. Clearly, he was the one who told. It was hardly Simon Cartwell as he was just as guilty as I was.
Leaving that encounter I fell into a conversation with Ivanovich. This did not last long because right in the middle he cursed loudly in surprised. Turning I saw Marquis Evengii walk in looking worse for the wear. The Alder rushed to him as my eyes widened. My first reaction was joy at seeing him. This was immediately offset by a very real fear of how much trouble I was in. My solution was hovering near Evengii and than being soundly ignored. Working up my courage, I told him I was glad to see him alive and well. My concern was brushed off like an annoying fly.
Naturally, the Marquis sudden appearance called for an Invictus meeting. Following Ivanovich, I hoped Evengii’s return would be more intriguing than my misbehavior. We were joined by The Good Viscountess Jessi Connelly. We had not been introduced but I knew her name. For a time we stood around waiting for the Prince and Mr. Anderson. Once again, our current gratitude and previous worry was expressed to Evengii. All joined in except for Anthony Dunn who did not even try to hide the sunlight streaming out of his arse. Desperate to please I asked if I should go find our absent members. Receiving permission, I sadly returned a few minutes later with the news Shane was occupied and Prince McQuinn was with the Nosferatu.
Once the Prince did grace us with his presence, I turned my studious attention onto him. Praying there would be nothing but the intriguing story of Evengii’s recent activities.
“So it seems I might have been to hasty in forgiving certain recent breeches.”
Oh crap.
The interrogation that followed the damning statement certainly was not a trial. The outcome was already decided by the First Estate of Chicago before my first protest. However, they did permit me to dig myself deeper into my own grave. My blog was obviously a source of contention as well as my loose public tongue.
Helpfully Miss Connelly tried to point out Prisci Cartwell’s bad example as an excuse. Strenuously I agreed in a last attempt to talk my way out of my predicament.
“Anyone who is so defensive is obviously guilty.”
In his calm, cool steady way the Marquis put an end to my pleading words. The weak explanation died on my lips as I met his eyes. In normal circumstances, my heart would be thudding in my chest. Now the absence of life inside of me was potent. Dust. If they killed me, I would be dust.
“You will not be remembered, you will not be mourned.”
No doubt, Evengii was right as his speech grew in ferocity. There would be nothing left of me to remember. Only my words and they would undoubtedly be purged from this world as well. To survive I must accept that I was straddling life and death. My attempts to be part of the mortal world would erase me altogether. If I survived it would be for my own benefit.
“You must be aware of every window, every camera, every mirror, every word you say and move you make. Every minute of everyday.”
The foundation to the grievous mistake I made was suddenly known. The sin I committed against the Kindred of Chicago has a root. Simply put, I believed I was still human. Somehow, I assumed I could be vampire and mortal both. To be both would give me the benefits of both worlds at the same time. If only it was possible.
“The Invictus do not make mistakes. They are not conquered.”
The epiphany in my head was startling but much needed. The word ‘unconquered’ initially invoked thoughts of a battlefield. In the context of my life now, there was a different meaning. The battle was won when I became Kindred. Now I was a greater and stronger being than any human could ever be. To be unconquered is to remain Kindred. The state of being conquered happened when I digressed back into my mortal ways.
“At times we allow for learning when we see potential but when the problem outweighs the benefits it is time to count our loses and move on.”
That was how I expected it to be without question. Light flashed in Evengii’s eyes as he finished his speech. The tone of his voice was dangerous when he asked if I understood what he said. Steadily I responded that I did. To prove it, Evengii told me to declare my sin to the assembled.
“I was conquered.” My words were simple but true. “And I behaved in a way that was unbecoming to an Invictus.” This was also true but paled in comparison.
To many the breech of the masquerade was the obvious error. Both Evengii and I knew the breech was incidental to my actual failing. A symptom, if you will, of the disease, which had taken me over. No longer was I mortal. If I wished to remain animated, I would both accept and embrace this truth.
Seemingly satisfied Evengii asked if the others were equally content. They were but I still deserved stern punishment.
“For your blog your hands and arms will be torn open. For your words your tongue will be ripped from your throat.”
This was the Prince’s decree and it would not be taken back. By some mysterious force outside of myself, I remained upright. My tongue and my hands … what would I be without them?
“Oh they will grow back.”
Judging by Ivanovich’s casual tone I was to be scratched by a kitten. Instead of mauled by a royal Gangrel. Bringing it back around, Evengii reminded me of a key fact. Even as I was being mutilated, I had to restrain my Beast. A creature ruled by only instinct would react to pain by attempting revenge. If I had the strength to stand still through the torture, I deserved to live. Otherwise, Ivanovich would be behind me with sword at the ready. At the first sign of weakness, my head would be removed from my body.
Fear produced choices from a hysterical brain still connected to me. Screaming, crying, running, begging, manipulating, attacking and arson all seemed feasible at first. Sadly, I knew the very best outcome would only stall them. The First Estate was not to be dissuaded and the Nosferatu played their part. I was going to die. Oh my god I was going to die. No no no. Please no.
My stomach clinched as I waited to be moved into position. Moisture formed behind my eyes but I refused to permit any tears. Any dignity I had left I wanted to keep. If it was going to happen, I was ready to be done with it now. This view of mine was not shared by the others in the room. Instead of finishing the job, I was antagonized and forced to wait.
The attention in the room returned to Marquis Evengii and he relayed his harrowing tale. Grandly he spoke his story of kidnapping, despicable schemes, hidden conspirators and mental torture. Through abilities unanticipated, he eluded his opposition and was with us tonight. This demonstrated his impeccable timing when it came to witnessing my dusty end. The walls were closing in on me and I wanted to scream.
The roaring in my head overcame all else around me. The feeling of my tongue in my mouth and the movements of my fingers seemed enormous. The meeting adjourned and I was given an hour.
“An hour to do what?”
Oh well I could go enjoy the gathering, take in the sights … say goodbye. The last part went unspoken but the implication was clear. For an hour, I could do anything I wanted to do, except leave the city or hide. The next thing I remember I was up the elevator and out into the streets of Chicago. Oh my glorious city. This was my home. The pavement moved beneath my feet as I ran. Then came towards me as I fell to my knees. Silent and alone I dry heaved into the gutter. Did not scream, refused to scream, I will not scream.
Never for a second do I regret writing my blog. The penalty of certain maiming and quite possibly death did not change that. Its written publication was what I needed to do. Being necessary to understand my situation and to make my voice heard. Neither is there ill will in me towards the Prince, the Invictus or the Nosferatu. My predicament was not personal but merely business. Fate was my killer the first time and would be the second time again.
When I found my feet, again I was determined. The clock was ticking down and I had two things I needed to do. First off, I needed to find Jim Beasley and tell him goodbye. No matter if he laughed or insulted me in the wake of my death. The need to see him one last time was greater than my pride. Second, I needed to talk to Elliot Fitzpatrick. If only because I promised that I would.
Upon my return to the gathering, my expression of dread caused heads to turn. My attention was only focused on finding Jim but it was all in vain. As I suspected he was an illustration of Internet courage. Easily he insulted me on a message board but was afraid to stand face to face. The revolver in my pocket was there so I could shoot him.
There was not time to do a more in depth search. Time was running out for my conversation with Elliot. Easily I found him talking to Evengii of all people. Daring to ignore the Marquis, I tried to get Fitzpatrick’s attention. The clock ticking in my head narrowed my focus but the Gangrel indicated Evengii. Turning I saw the Marquis silently holding out a glass towards me. In response I politely I asked if he wished for water and fetched it upon request.
The full glass was graciously accepted back. The incident gave me chance to witness Marquis Evengii announcing Anthony Dunn as his childr. The group seemed excited about the news, particularly Sydney who fawned. This was startling enough for me to wonder about the story. Then I remembered I was going to die in 25 minutes and stopped caring.
“I heard a fly buzz when I died …”
“I heard a fly buzz when I died …”
Finally, Mr. Fitzpatrick found time to speak with me. Despite my waning time table we traveled to Jessi Connelly’s bar which I am sure was nice. My underlining terror did not allow me to see much of anything. A warped mirror was noticed as was a peeping chair but I could not focus.
Miss Connelly had been in the Invictus meeting and I questioned her motivation. This meeting was not directly against the First Estate but close enough. After an incident in the woods, I had told Mr. Fitzpatrick I no longer wished to be Invictus. In the future, I might make the choice again but not now.
On Elliot’s suggestion, I accepted it was time to step back and consider all of the covenants. Statistically, I was more like to die in the First Estate, as they tended to kill from within. More than just trepidation paused my steps. The vow to Reynolds had been taken in too much haste. The respect I had for the Invictus warranted a true commitment not an empty impulse.
There was very little time to convey this to Fitzpatrick or Connelly. Suddenly the urge to go to the Prince overcame all other reason and thought. Without a word, I rushed to the door and became hysterical when I found it locked. As I was trying to claw my way out, others were trying to force themselves in. One of us succeeded and I found myself under arrest by the Scourge. It was Einar again who formerly told me the Prince requested my presence. The buzz of the powerful summons nearly drowned him out.
Only when we reached the gathering did realization set in. The Prince stood in the middle looking every inch the vicious predator. Around him, keeping silent watch was every other citizen of Chicago. Holy shit. This was going to be a public denigration. The dignity of a private execution had been denied.
Horror filled me as I surveyed the scene and I dug in my heels before I reached the platform. It was only shame that kept me from screaming and fighting as I was dragged to my executioner. Oh, I did get my wish to see Beasley one last time. There he was fucking gray suit and all. To his credit, he did not look smug, only stupefied like the rest. Every eye was on me and I was out of options.
Unknown hands propelled me towards the Prince Donovan Mcquinn. Never before had I seen him like this. The fangs were so very prominent and his claws were long, sharp and thick. This was a monster and I was his helpless prey. The platform shifted beneath me as Ivanovich took up his stance behind me. My eyes stayed on the Prince but I knew The Alder’s sword was raised in preparation.
There was nothing to do but wait. The voice of the Prince was raised as he spoke to all but me.
“There will be no allowances if you are young and experienced. If you break our traditions you deserve chastisement and you will be severely punished.”
My eyes frantically searched the crowd. Looking desperately for some understanding or comradery but not one met my gaze. Shaking I turned back to Donovan and the bloodlust in his eyes made me weak.
“Hold out your arms.”
The command was more of a growl than actual words. There was hesitation but it was only momentary. Palms up I presented my arms as I silently watched the monster’s face. The horror of the moment stretched and the crowd around me faded away. There was nothing left but Donovan and my offering to him. Involuntarily my fingers twitched and I felt the blood moving under the thin skin of my wrist.
The two quick movements cutting through the air startled me. Dumfounded I stared at his claws now red with blood and gore. Then the pain began and began and began and only blinding light existed before my eyes. The sensation was to catastrophic to complete to necessitate any sort of noise from me.
The scream from within filled my ears as my Beast let out his vengeful cry. My willpower was nothing compared to the force of this rage. There was no care for Ivanovich behind me or his deadly sword or anything at all. My body stiffened in preparation for a battle mindless, as it would be short.
Nothing happened; then nothing happened at all. The rage was gone, the pain was gone and I was Adrian once more.
The sight that greeted me upon my return was the blur of a claw headed straight to my throat. No time was even allowed for an instinctive flinch or fear. Although moments later it was clear neither was necessary. The point of the claw barely even made contact with my neck. A small steam of blood tickling my skin made me twitch. Without thinking, I attempted to move my hand up to touch.
My arms did not move and I looked down at them. Disgust filled me along with a desire to clean the raw meat off my arms. Only I could not because my arms were that raw meat. The lack of pain created a weird disconnect from my body. When I looked up in confusion I saw Shane Anderson who growled and moved away. Not far from him, Xiao Feng watched me closely. How was I still alive? What had really happened here?
“Come now. Papa Rose wishes to speak to you.”
Mental shock was pulling a veil over my eyes and I was gladly letting it. The sound of Ivanovich’s voice was an unwelcome intrusion. Nonetheless, he pushed me forward until I sat down facing the cryptic Gangrel. The reek of my arms still drew the majority of my attention.
“Do you remember what they look like?”
Mutely I nodded and than whispered, “yes”. My tongue was still in my mouth and I could still talk. The realization was enough to bring about the start of calm.
“Then perhaps they grow back.”
Either way Papa Rose did not seem too concerned about it. A movement off to the side caught my eye as Cyanide Wax laid a tooth extractor near me. This was similarly brushed off by Sallow Rose as unimportant.
“Perhaps you learn lesson, perhaps not. You might be dumb in head.”
With a long finger, he tapped his skull as he peered at me. The words he spoke were confusing to my whirling brain but my lesson was learned. Now I had a better knowledge of my current existence. If I wished to maintain it than I had to accept it. No longer was I mortal. It was foolhardy and dangerous to pretending to be by living in their world. Posting a blog on the Internet was only one example.
“I don’t know answer. I am dumb in head. You be all right.”
The words of Papa Rose seemed to come from a place of forgiveness. Sadly when he left so did any mercy. The next one standing over me was Mr. Anderson and he was not happy. Directly he informed me of the pain I would feel as my arms healed. Currently I was numb from head to toe but then Shane lifted his spell. It only for a second but it was enough to burn my mind in agony. In less than an hour, any relief would be a distant dream. If I could not restrain my Beast, I was to find him.
Nervous energy drove me to my feet as I began another countdown. Anticipation was torture within itself and Chicago’s citizens were obviously Masters of it. Behind me, Mae gracefully took my seat and began to swirl my blood on the floor with her toes. The sight told me without a doubt I was still alive. Wordlessly she indicted the chair beside her and I sat. After shooing Ivanovich away, she turned her attention onto me.
Graciously she inquired after my arms. Nervously I told her about the lack of pain but its impending arrival. For a second I thought she was taking the sympathetic route but I was wrong.
“If I ever see my name in your little … diary again, I will eat your heart.”
The burning in her eyes indicated the violent sincerity of her words. Not for a moment did I consider doubting them. The mental imagery alone would set me back for a few days. Going on she asked how I felt knowing the entire city was aware of my every thought. At my answer, she expressed disappointment because my blog was more interesting than I was. Hastily I tried to tell her about the artistic soul and its need for expression but I failed to impress.
Not long after that, Ivanovich collected my battered body and soul. Seemingly, it was his plan to store me away until he saw fit. There was no reason to fight it, even if I could. Right before we left the gathering Sheri approached. Thankfully, she did not scold knowing I had enough. Only merely asked why I would be so foolish. Without a decent reply, I could only blame the modern culture. Typically, blogs were published on-line so mine should be as well. Never did I suspect it would be such a sensation to lead to this.
The Russian mob is certainly efficient and I was stolen away cleanly. During the trip Ivanovich explained my poor choices were due to the absence of leadership. If I had a strong sire, my path could be set right. Therefore, if I consented, he would agree to adopt me.
Please God, anyone, please make the pain stop, just stop, only for a moment, just stop.
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