Hannah Lane

Damage? Elizabeth’s thin eyebrows drew together even as she returned the man’s radiant smile. What is that supposed to mean? The man was twitching like a trapped squirrel, likely working his way through the mental equivalent of a meat grinder. Is there even a meaning, or are his wires too crossed and is he just saying things? Wondering she fell in next to him towards the ladies’.   They stopped at a door showing the all-known skirted person sign. Kindly the doorman gave her a nod, indicating that this was in fact a bathroom. The Malkavian didn’t notice, her attention fixed on the droplets left on the floor tile, tiny red islands of delight in a sea of beige stone. Then it went to the fellow’s hand which seemingly had also spent time in the meat grinder. Unwittingly spent time in it, because who makes hot chocolate for a child with a bloody mitt instead of cleaning it off first, and then goes on staining the floor, all carrying a smile too big for his face?   “You’re bleeding from your hand,” she tried again, curiosity peaked. “You should have a look, clean yourself. It could be serious.” She put one hand on the door pressing it open just a little suggesting that perhaps it would be a good idea to use this bathroom for cleaning.

“Close up now, Angela.” Elizabeth said with a note of relief. Her home was safe. The world had come crashing down around her enough for one night. The phone disappeared again and she returned to Benji and the TV screen.   “It’s happening all of the city.” Her voice was kept low, too quiet from the mortal. “Frenzy. Perhaps the entire country.”   Or the world. There’s a sunshine thought.   Harry the door guy chose that moment to finish his coffee. It had been a bit of awkward with one hand bloodied. The sod likely didn’t want to hand a blood-streaked hot chocolate mug to a child. Ironically the blood would be the only thing the child could have enjoyed   “You’re bleeding.” She said matter-of-factly. “You should clean that. Could you please show me to a bathroom? I’d like to freshen up as well.” Relying on the kindness forced on him, the hope was that he would accompany her to a bathroom.

“What, Benjamin?” Elizabeth came to stand next to the boy and looked at the TV screen. What she saw there was enough to bring the earlier anxiety back full and front. Red sky, dead Kindred.   No more voices ...   And attacks across the city. Fifteen dead. The face of Alandra Stien flickered though Elizabeth’s mind. Alandra. who had said she was hankering to hunt live prey in a nightclub tonight. Had she gone, after Elysium, after Stone had been through with her? Was she alright? And what about Gentlemen? Her own business and haven. It was open at this time of night and at this hour there were bound to be some people there still. Had it been attacked? Normally anything out of the ordinary, let alone any violence should have resulted in a call from Peter. But Peter was outside waiting in the car. She asked Angela, one of the older girls, to mind things tonight. Could she … could something have happened?   “The city is coming apart at the seams. We are wasting our time here.” She gave a look to the doorman fiddling with coffee mugs to underline her point. “I need to make a call.” She clicked through menus on her phone for the right number and ended with a jab on the green phone icon. It was the number of the phone at the bar of Gentlemen. The metallic ringing sound went once, twice, three times …

Like a paranoid shark Elizabeth’s eyes shot towards the man’s bleeding palm. The hunger stabbed at her entrails again. On instinct her body had put two steps towards the red patch on the floor before she caught herself.   Her feelings towards the doorman were decidedly less warm than 10 seconds ago. The mangy sack of bones, reeking of cheap tobacco, earning a living watching black-and-white screens on which less happened than in a buster Keaton movie. He was wrapped tight in Mercury’s mental straightjacket and he’d told her off. He had cramped up at the emotional mauling she’d given, twitched like a mouse trapped under a sheet, but still he croaked out a ‘no’. Not many mortals had spoken that word to the blonde Malkavian in the current century, not many at all. Black irritation reared its ugly head and she was perfectly prepared to hate him for the slight, conditioning or not.     “Jack." Her voice was a whisper of a whisper. "Can you go alone?” Her eyes shot up momentarily indicating, well … up.

“Maybe not … ,” she replied. “But maybe he would. No way to be certain and perhaps it’s best not to risk damaging anything.” Fred was a Primogen and one of the oldest Kinded in Baltimore. There had to be more to his haven security than Harry and a lock.   “Harry.” She said with a cheerful charmer’s game face on. He was walking a little way off, slouching, the remains of his earlier smile still on his face. The mortal seemed at a loss at what to do next. Stand there and keep an eye on these night visitors or go back to the door. When she had been young in England, these doormen were a dime a dozen. Ofttimes they doubled as butlers and every upscale house employed them. They were as common as dogs and treated only a little better. From where she was standing, Elizabeth could smell the cigarette odour on him.   “Harry.” She said again, catching his attention. She ‘pushed out’ then. That’s how she thought of it. Pushing out a wave at the man, like she had done to hundreds, maybe thousands of mortals over the years. It was a wave of need, of liking her, of wanting to please and be praised. It felt like throwing a smile across a room and it was aimed right between Harry’s eyes. [PRESENCE: Entrancement, 1BP]   “We are friends of Frederick’s and I am quite sure he wouldn’t want us to stand here in the middle of a cold night.” The undead woman stepped into the man’s personal space, with just the right look in her eyes. “Can you not see us to his rooms please? The boy is his nephew and really needs to be put to bed.”

Hot cocoa? He had hot cocoa for the boy. The sky was blazing red, a handful of respected Kindred were dead and that feeling in her stomach was a tangible thing now, uncoiling and demanding attention. Elizabeth didn’t have a whole lot of patience for Harry and the hot cocoa.   “If we go up,” she stage-whispered to Jack after making sure the doorman was out of earshot. “Can you get us past the door?” Elizabeth didn’t know the other Malkavian well enough, but he looked the type to know his way around locks, deadbolts, passwords and whatnot. “Or do we need his ...” she threw a look at the mortal, “… help?”

“Brisk?” Elizabeth repeated the word, letting her British accent roll. “It’s bloody cold, is what it is. And me without my coat.” The knot in her guts lurched again, demanding food. It felt like her innards where about to burst through her skin and start grabbing passers-by.   Taking small steps, she scooted closer to the guy, close enough to eye his name tag. “Dear God, Harry, I will be glad to get inside.” The Malkavian wrapped her arms around herself to stress that he really shouldn't leave them standing on the sidewalk.   “We are here to visit Mr. Mercury’s apartment.” Perhaps Harry had seen the Primogen leave the building earlier, perhaps he would tell them that alas, Mercury wasn’t in and can they come back later. That wouldn’t do it all. Even though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, Elizabeth treated him to one of her best doe-eyed smiles. It was a radiant thing, that smile, with plenty of megawatts in it. Being nice usually helped.

With shoulders and arms uncovered and legs bare to just above the knee, the cold wind chased away the warmth of the car in seconds. The ghost of a shiver ran past Elizabeth’s spine. The cold was unpleasant and uncomfortable, making her feel like she was putting on a spectacle. It was fraying the Masquerade, if only a small fraying, and they better get inside quick.   The building was a familiar sight. She’d been here before numerous times throughout the years, to attend private showings of art, to request her Primogen for a boon, or to discuss some or the other task Mercury wanted her to undertake. The Primogen had been nothing if not a social animal. His disappearance would be noticed in some circles, by some people. It was their job to ensure the noticing didn’t turn into suspecting. There were apartments at the top floor, rented out or handed out to mortals in Mercury’s entourage. Any ghouls among them would be in a sorry state, the blood bond snapped, perhaps panicking sensing that the source of their fix was gone. Or they would be in a sorry state once they woke up. It was getting late after all. Perhaps they could be salvaged. Perhaps other things could be salvaged.   Elizabeth’s intestines coiled themselves in a knot again, painful spasms shooting up through her esophagus. She had no trouble recognizing the cramp for what they were. No Kindred would. They were hunger pangs. And hunger pangs were impossible. She’d fed yesterday, and again just before Elysium. Early this evening Franklin Gove had paid for her attentions for an hour. He’d gotten 5 minutes. A quick nibble was all he got as she needed to get dressed, and fix her make-up. Hunger simply wasn’t possible. But it was there anyway.   “Let’s see who and what we find inside,” She said to Jack and Benjamin, making for the front door.

Elizabeth sighed, looking up. “Perhaps we shouldn’t be picking over Mercury’s remains with a killer moon above us.”   The unnatural skies were doing something to her. It’s red burning influence was on her in some way, was inside her guts, doing … something. A number of Kindred had been driven to frenzy, one had shriveled to a dry prune, one had lost years’ worth of memories and one had ‘exploded’ if Jack was to be believed. And her,  what about her? Frank was silent in her head. So was Becky whose soul was whiny and irritating, always making demands of Elizabeth after feeding. They should be there, shouldn’t be so quiet, but they were. What was done to me?   “But then perhaps we should.” Jack did have a point even if it felt beneath her. Mercury’s death would have left a number of loose ends. Someone should have a look and tie up as many as they could. “We should rummage around, see what we can find.”   Daintily Elizabeth reached into the front of her dress, fishing inside her own cleavage. “I’m not dressed for this.” she went on, looking for the little zipper (yes, they sell these things now). Ah, there you are. Out came her hand holding a small Nokia phone. “But I will be taking my own car. Peter is waiting for me nearby.”

“Maybe, but chances are just as good they know everything.” Elizabeth crossed her arms, defensively. “Better I’d say than Mercury knowing anything on something that reeks of sorcery.”   She looked up at a sky, an unfamiliar sense of nausea twisting her insides. Almost 2 centuries she’d existed under it, safe from the sun, and tonight it was unrecognizable. The stars shone as sugar lumps drowning in a bloody, red soup. It was ominous, frightening, a sign of worse thing to come. She shuddered feeling the wind blow her hair aside. Her coat was still inside, forgotten. However much she just wanted to drive home and wait this thing out, she would go along with Jack. She already knew she would. If you had a Primogen title in your crosshairs, and she did decades earlier than she could ever have hoped for, it wouldn’t do to let the others deal with matters on their own. It wouldn’t do to let Jack make the calls.   Reserves? Elizabeth kept herself from rolling her eyes. “I don’t think following your stomach is the best way forward. Did you hear what Stone said just before we left? He said: more drastic measures became unavoidable. Or so I am being told at this stage. That means he wasn’t the one who fed a stake to the Primogen. And if he wasn’t, then who was? The only ones I saw up there were Baranova and Mostafa."   She leaned towards Jack "I propose we wait and talk to them when they come out. The Tremere aren’t the only sorcerers in the Camarilla."

Elizabeth looked from Jack to Mary and back again, not understanding. Bless? The night did not feel very blessed at all. More like doomed, cursed, hexed and whatever other fanciful word you liked.   Baranova and Mostafa were talking through each other on the other side of the room, their voices growing louder, each insisting on their version of events. Stone told them not to get riled up. Realization came slowly, unsure whether it was even true. They were talking in the background and yet she could make out all three of their voices clearly, just like that without having to pay much attention. The inside of her skull was quiet and had been for … 10 minutes, definitely. More than that perhaps. Come to think of it she hadn't noticed any noises since … the mass hallucination?   “I saw him.” She nodded, all of them no doubt realizing who ‘him’ was. “But bless? Did he bless you, Jack? Did he … take anything away?”   If this wasn’t just all imaginings, if anything was truly going on, all this being ‘his’ doing didn’t ring true. Not really. Removing the ability to hear people’s souls didn’t seem like ‘his’ kind of blessing. Quite the opposite.

“I must say, Jack, given the situation it’s more the wise words of Magic Johnson I keep thinking of.” Elizabeth’s face twisted in a rubbery grin that was gone in a wink. Winter blue eyes stared back at him. Think about that, Jack.   “That’s … a long list of dead.” She began. “And Breka as well? That must have taken some doing.” And perhaps one of us next. Jack was in an especially good mood, joking and smiling. There was something odd about that, something off. But then those thoughts were gone in a wink as well. She was too jittery, too stuck between fear and dread amazement to think about small things. “Was it Stone as well?”   Mass hallucinations. At the words the sense of dread she felt crept up even higher. “Hallucinations.“ She scanned the faces of her fellow Malkavians. “Did any of you see … ,“ Her voice trailed off for a second there.

“He’s not alright.” She said deadpan. “Come.” Elizabeth called to her clanmate, hurrying down.   Freddie Mercury was laying on the floor, his mouth unflatteringly forced open by a wooden stake. The furniture has certainly suffered, tables and chairs lay upended, bloody glass shards were scattered across the wooden floorboards.     If not for the stake, she would have guessed this was Mostafa’s doing. Under a thin veneer of civility, the Banu Haqim were trained and bloodthirsty murderers. It couldn’t be anyone but him as she didn’t see Baranova lasting long against the frenzied Primogen. But neither of them would have been able to bring a stake past Stone at the front door at the start of the evening. So it was likely to have been the Sheriff himself who had taken down her clan’s representative.   First Gonzalez, now Mercury. Baltimore had just lost 2 Primogen and the Prince was faced with a rebellious childe. There was opportunity in this, ways to profit. She didn’t know how yet, or when or with whom. She’d need time to think it through, but there were definitely ways.   “Mary, Jack.” Elizabeth called automatically. The pair of Malkavians stood a little to the side, watching the scene like a couple of rubberneckers. “Did you see what happened?”

“Oh, brilliant.” Elizabeth said, frustrated. Carefully she extricated herself from Angelica’s mind. “There is nothing since her embrace years ago. No memories at all.” She spoke in an absent voice, brow stuck at half-mast. An unruly lock fell in front of her face like a comma, incredulity evident. “I guess we should leave her in Stone’s care. I can imagine having Bistri’s childe will come in handy ... or not.” She shrugged and tucked the wayward hair behind her ear. “Please stay put for a little while longer, Angelica. Someone will come to look after you.” Elizabeth turned away from the bar and stepped in the direction of the stairs.   Explode? Frenzy? Second floor, the bearded man said.   “The fighting sounds like it comes from the third floor, not the second.” She gave Benjamin a questioning look. “Mercury was there earlier. Do you think he’s alright?”   Carefully again, very much aware that in the tight dress she wouldn’t be going anywhere fast if whoever was snarling down there came after her, Elizabeth put a heeled foot onto the first step. Then the other on the second, trying to catch a glimpse of what was happening one floor down.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Girl follows complete stranger who offers alcohol and drugs, and ends up dead. One figured the kine would learn eventually. “That’ll teach you. Drugs are bad for you.” The joke sounded lame even to herself, but the situation was getting to Elizabeth. Distasteful though they might be, the Sabbat were opponents they knew how to combat and knew where to find. In the last months, one hadn’t needed to look for them far. One pack or the other was always getting too close the city center. Stone had had his hands full. This was something else entirely, something widespread that killed Kindred out of the blue. The Prince’s angry swearing wasn’t doing much to inspire a level head either.   “Perhaps the MPA* have a record of this boat. There are cameras throughout the port area. If she can provide a description of it, someone ought to check with them.” For the second time this evening, the blonde-haired Malkavian tried to lock eyes with the Tzimisce (Dominate - The Forgetful Mind), this time to probe its mind and sense if it had been tampered with. When one moment a person aims it tendrils at you spouting threats and the next breaks down crying, forgetting everything, something must be off with the ol’ mind.    There were noises coming up from the stairs. Sounds of a table being upended and was that glass cracking? Then followed a gasp and a long-drawn-out snarl, crazed and unbelievably hungry, …. and was that a voice she recognized?   “What the devil is going on down there?” she asked the bearded stranger who’d conveniently just came up. “It sounds like someone is killing someone.”   * Maryland Port Authority