brokentwin

April 24: Another Day in Paradise

Fri, 24 Apr 2009 16:37:08 GMT

April 24, 2009

Dear Mom and Daddy,

Things are never dull around here. First, there’s the Hunger. It’s always there. Sometimes you can ignore it, overcome it, put into the back of your mind. But usually it gnaws at you no matter what (okay, I know, icky. Just pretend it’s whatever addiction is really popular at home right now). Second, there’s the politics. If you’re not careful it can literally gnaw at you and we’ve been trying to avoid that.

We woke up hungry and had to do something about it, when Stephan called me. He wondered how fast we could make it to the Catacombs. Maybe it gets easier when you’re older—or maybe he has someone to feed from regularly. Either way, he wasn’t ravenous and we had to push that hunger aside to attend to politics. We headed over there, went into a side entrance and found the Tremere part of the Catacombs. The guards there wouldn’t let Locke in. This was an awful moment for me. I felt torn in half—I wanted Locke to come with me, tried to negotiate it. In the end, he stayed behind with Io (and not Gory who had gotten impatient with our attempts and driven away).

Gory drove off to charm some ladies at a swanky night spot and feed. I know that some women find him really charming (excuse me, I gagged a little)—this method of hunting really works for him.

Back in outside the Catacombs, Locke asks Io if she needs food. Io is pleased to be considered and she tells him that he’s “one of the niceth vampireths she’s ever met.” I’m pretty sure she meant that well. Just as she’s beginning to open up about her own experiences, they catch something moving out of the corner of their eyes. At first they thought that it was just a mistake, but then it happened again, and Io slipped into the shadows to see what she could learn. As she slid along she saw blood on the concrete, and feathers. Whatever it is, it’s eating pigeons. She climbed up the side of a building and saw them—gargoyles but they seem like real stone.

Remember that Gargoyles cartoon? Daddy, you used to watch it with us because it had all of those Star Trek people doing the voices? Locke and I wanted to have the sheets and pillowcases for our rooms but Mom thought it was creepy? Well, Mom was right. They’re creepy.

Locke sent a text to me: We saw a gargoyle move. How’s your thing going?

But it was ages until I got it—the reception isn’t so great under Paris.

Since the gargoyles weren’t moving or having anthropomorphic adventures anymore, Locke and Io had a really philosophical discussion about the meaning of vampire life, whether we are inherently evil (no, we aren’t, so there) and such like.

Meanwhile, I stepped into the Tremere Boogity Lounge ™ where Stephan stepped out to meet me and handed me a white robe (I think if he were a real boy…). He said, “One of the Elders wanted to lead this.” And the this is a big Tremere ritual (I can’t go into the specifics here—did I mention that writing these letters to you is like signing my own death warrant? That’s why I can’t mail them to you until I’m actually. Finally. Dead. So, you might not get them at all, since I could outlive you by 1-300 years. But telling you anything is called “breaking the Masquerade” and it’s punishable by death. Just let me go further and say that if I were to tell you all the details of a Tremere ritual—there are things a lot worse than death.)

In short: Charles Yeager, the 4^th generation Elder was sent here (imagine the dude who can send a 4^th generation somewhere—it lends credence to the idea that Tremere himself is alive and in Spain. Or he could just be the Dread Pirate Tremere, right?) to ensure that the clan can remain strong during these tough times. I know, it sounds like a politician’s speech on the economy, and in some ways it was. Standing there, in my wispy see-through robe I was preoccupied with thoughts of Locke until Yeager pulled out a vial on a chain from underneath his robe. “This is Tremere’s BLOOD.” He held it up triumphantly and even though he wasn’t shouting his words filled the room. When he tipped the blood into the mouth of the bovine-eyed , beautiful young woman, then her blood was infused with Tremere’s. What came next was like a really dark version of Communion—just as sacramental, just as focused on blood. I know when it touched my lips (I know, sorry—maybe I can add a new font when I’m going to be gross) it tingled and then I sparkled, for real, becoming luminous with family and power (and not like those stupid vampires in the tweeny books. For the record, vampires sparkle in the sunlight, alright. Like tinder.)

Stephan (he was sparkly, too. Yum.) asked me how things were going, and warned me that men like Yeager wouldn’t be tolerant of Locke. He warned me to be careful.

Stepping out into the Paris night I had cell service again. I got Locke’s text (he’s been really weird lately) and responded that I was done. Gory called Io and eventually we all met back up.

In the car I started reading Holy Blood, Holy Grail which was on Roger’s iPhone. (Obsessive much?) Our fun-with-research extravaganza continued when we got home—we started to read the big book we’d absconded with before. It was strange—in a mix of languages; Latin, English, some sort of code. In the back it was handwritten and told us that DaVinci had spent his last years in Close Luce, in a French castle called Amboise with Francis I—the first Renaissance monarch. DaVinci had many strange visitors there, and one VIP-SV. After that visit DV started on his last work—a triptych that he worked tirelessly on and finished the final stroke on the day of his death.

Then the journal did a funny thing—it became gibberishy. “The painting was his, it was gone, it was given…” “they took it away which is good. Nobody must ever find…HIM.”

Well, Locke and I have seen enough movies where the heroes get screwed out of their original and only copy of the Most Important Document Ever, so even though it took a long time we took pictures of all the pages and emailed them to ourselves. Grigori took some of this tedious time to pick on Locke. But before anyone got too upset, Roger’s phone rang.

When Io answered (in a pretty snappy impersonation of Roger’s secretary) she found that it was out favorite Pirate Queen, inviting Roger to a fabulous party at the exact location of his death the previous night (okay, she doesn’t put it that way since she thinks he’s alive, but eeew—talk about tacky.)

We headed over there, and I’ll tell you, the place looked a lot different with all the lights on. It’s a mixed bag as far as guests go—Vamps, Ghouls, Herd—and oh, crap—Sabbat. Time to go before things get ugly. I headed over to Gory to tell him, and while I was gone, Locke saw Mr. Black hiding in the bushes outside. Whither goes Mr. Black also goes Annabelle Lee. She said, “Mr. Black isn’t sure he likes this party but he thinks there are secrets inside.” Io had to go in for Annabelle Lee, taking Mr. Black as her “date.”

The three of us outside argued about whether to go inside, and Locke insisted that he couldn’t leave Io in there alone. (Okay, I’ll admit it. That really hurt. I understand that I’ve left him and had to be with Stephan, but that’s because of blood, not just fondness. I was really jealous).

Inside Pirate Queen Mariel was holding court, surrounded by Juice Boxes of every gender. She was announcing that she had taken a liking to Paris, and would be staying. She loved playing the crowd, and when she was us she called us “Camarilla Puppies,” which isn’t exactly a great thing to be called in general but worse in this specific. Gory took center stage here and did his romantic comedy banter—he really does seem to know what women want to hear. From this he gleaned that there was something very unusual downstairs.

So, of course, we avoided it. Just kidding—avoiding it would make SENSE, so no chance there. Io found a duct to slip into and heads straight for the basement. When she got there it was eerie and filled with magic (I imagine Mr. Black was having the time of his life). Io called Locke (more jealousy!) and he and I went down to meet her. Once down there the magic was a lot for me to take in. It turned out it was an altar down there, streaming with what seemed like molasses, but really, really wasn’t. The blood had been spilled in a human sacrifice (I know ironic for me to care—but just because you eat a burger doesn’t mean you’d be okay with cows being torn apart for magic)—but the strange thing was that it wasn’t arcane magic to summon a demon—something was sealed closed here! It was arcane magic to keep demons out! It was a self-reflexive altar, where someone would lie on it, spill his own blood and let it flow in order to control or keep something inside him at bay.

Meanwhile, Gory was off on his own. When we emerged from the basement, really, really ready to leave, we found him over a dead woman, ready to drip his blood into her mouth. (Oops, forgot my gross font again. Just as a side note, this is how vampires get made—a human’s blood is drained by a vamp, and then he [the sire] gives the dead human blood. Magic ensues, stir at low heat, and presto, one new vampire, ready to serve. The thing is, we aren’t allowed to just do this willy nilly. Especially in a vampire populous city like Paris, the ratio of human to vamp is carefully maintained by the Prince. This is for food, for politics [of course], and to maintain the Masquerade. So it’s pretty big stuff that Gory was going rogue on this because he felt like he needed better allies. Knowing this will make what follows make [some] sense.)

I did the only thing I could think of—I hucked something at him. It got his attention. Locke ran over and tipped the girl’s head, Io started screaming at Gory. Locke was planning to get the drops of blood from her mouth before the transformation began, and Gory didn’t like that. He went at Locke, and I used my magic to will into existence—a cricket bat. (Another side note: this was totally retarded. It’s what comes of too much Anglophilia. Seriously? Why not a crumpet? A scone? What I should have done, particularly in retrospect, is willed a really big SWORD into existence. But there you have it. You unLive and learn.) Gory, much less retarded than I, took a knife and stabbed Locke in the gut, understandably distracting him from his pursuit. The attack left him distracted, and Io grabbed his knife, which left me open to hit him with my cricket bat (oh, I say, good shot old chum!) Next I whip out the iPhone and threaten to call the Prince (yes, my combat ploys were a combination of PG Wodehouse and “I’m telling on you.” I clearly need help.)

Unexpectedly, Gory responded by tearing the girl’s head off (leading naturally to her not being human, vampire or even a very tall corpse). “I will not forget this,” Gory says, staring at me in a way I’d prefer not to be stared at. Ever.

Locke, who had stepped back to hold in his guts, felt a touch from behind him in the bushes. He knew it instantly. It was Estelle, his sire, she came to this party to get him back. He felt the draw of her blood (jealous again!) but he fought it. This didn’t please her at all, but in light of the situation (head ripping often draws a crowd) she withdrew, telling him, “You’ll wish you were ashes.”

It’s no surprise that Gory ran to his car and left us stranded. We headed for court instead of home, I guess to seek some comfort in other friends, and to protect ourselves. (Did I mention Gory was a gangster in life? Turns out even if you don’t like him it’s better he’s on your side.) Gory meanwhile went to the mattresses—he was lying low at home but also preparing to kill us if we walked through the door. He also consolidated his power, turning to Mercy, his Primogen, with the story that Locke and I had turned bad. Mercy (again with the name irony) suggested that a Blood Hunt should be called on us (remember I told you that breaking the Masquerade means death? Well, that death comes from a Blood Hunt. It’s not nice.) Gory said no, we should just be watched (why? I guess because his own case was pretty rocky and a BH isn’t something you can come back from).

Back at the Court we weren’t really well received (nothing new here). Io decided to take a sewer crawl (kind of like a spa day for a Nossi) to find some of her bloodpals. In the sewer there were no Nosferatu at all (which is like no Jews at Nordstrom’s!) The reason why? A HUGE GARGOYLE was sitting there, and as Io approached his came slowly open. It moved on its giant legs and said, “Go no farther.” Io politely asked who she was speaking to.

“Get out.”

“No kindred in the sewers?”

“Not here. Not now. They fled when we ATE one. Someday we might eat you ALL. But I will let you live now to warn others. IF. YOU. GO. NOW!”

Back at Court the Locke and Laurel drama continued. Oh yeah, and some other stuff. Stephan was there and I was waiting for him to conclude business, so that, essentially, he could save me. Locke got a text from Io about Gargoyle City and he wanted to run to the Prince to tell her so that he could save Io. (Jealous him! Jealouser me!) I saw Celeste get some very fancy old-fashioned sealing wax and parchment kind of letter, and then Stephan was freed up. We told him about the gargoyle and he said, “Nights are getting darker. I suspect tomorrow night will be very long indeed.” Then we told him about Gory and the events of the Best Party Ever, and he took us to his Haven for safety. Io joined us there and we waited out what was left of the night and slept the day without much comfort.

As soon as we woke up everyone got a call to Court. Not optional. Gory had a classic arming scene in which he put on a really nice suit and called Mercy, who it turned out, was also summoned. She told him that he’d better not fuck up or she’d take his balls. Stephan accompanied us, but I began to wonder if he wished he’d never made me.

Court was mostly empty, but Celeste sat there, lovely and terrible. “I keep hearing interesting stories. Third hand. I keep hearing gossip. I certainly don’t hear anybody reporting to me that there was an anarch party where the Pirate Bitch told everyone she is planning to STAY IN MY CITY! Why didn’t I hear this from YOU?”

Gory: We had… internal conflict.

Locke: Because Gory was siring someone and we couldn’t stop him.

Celeste looked from one to the other, and then asked Io to tell her view. And Io did something I’d never have guessed. With her innocent little face (really, it is. Weird, I know) and her sweet little voice she said, “There was a misunderstanding. We perceived him to be making another and we wanted to keep him from doing that. The blow was struck to prevent it.” In other words, she lied, very carefully, to the Prince.

But it didn’t matter. Neither Locke nor Gory really got that her phrasing was important—that the political way she’d put it kept anyone from guilt or blame. They blundered forward protesting their sides, and eventually the Prince called for silence and went to deliberate.

When she came back, the Prince, angered by our poor execution of our job to keep her informed, tired of our petty differences, gave us sentence: we would be blood bound together.

I can’t put this in any human term. It would be like being handcuffed in a cop movie to your antagonist, except the handcuffs are magic and make you love him. Just like I feel drawn to Stephan because of his blood running through me, we would all be drawn together unwillingly. Some vampires do this with another as an ultimate show of deepest devotion. A lover can describe himself as his lover’s slave and mean it well. Or slavery can mean the forcing of body and will. This is the latter.

Stephan, because of his skill, prepared the ritual. I could see he thought that it was too much, but he did as he was told. As I waited, stunned, he whispered to me, “Just remember how strong your blood is. This is nothing.”

A cut, blood in a cup, a sip. “By this you are bound.” And suddenly life got even more complex.

Loving you as only real family can,

Laurel

Hello again

Fri, 27 Mar 2009 23:43:18 GMT

Dear Mom and Daddy,

Remember that old song about Paris in the springtime? Completely brought to you by the Paris Chamber of Commerce. It’s cold and dreary here, especially at night. It’s cold and dreary in our apartment, too, but not because of the weather. You know how bad Locke and I are at sharing (evidence the two iPhones, two DS’s, two flat screens, two 360’s…). Well, turns out we’re practically the Waltons compared to how we feel about sharing space with our new family.

It’s not that there’s anything that bad about them. It’s just a lot to take in, you know? I mean, for example, the other night Io had a guest. I already told you about Io—she’s creepy but somehow cute creepy? Well, she stands alone in her peer group. Her friend, Antoinette (I don’t think it’s her real name—I think it’s a nom de guerre she took up because she used to be friends with Marie Antoinette Seriously. The real one, not Kirsten Dunst and a loud soundtrack.) is a real horror show. A walking tour of the morgue after a day when the cooling system broke down. Anyway, she came by to say that “It” is in town. (For my money she could have sent a text). But just like in the movies, that “it” is so ominous that we decide it’s time to feed and then go looking for this trouble before it finds us.

This part might be hard for you to read ( I know that Locke had trouble thinking about it—it’s like if you were an ethical fruitarian—he can’t stand what it takes to survive, really, and can’t stand not surviving). Anyway, you can put on the Mexican music and just skip this paragraph if you don’t want to know. Locke doesn’t want to feed with the others, so we split up and agreed to meet later at Oscar Wilde’s tomb (one thing Vampires are is delighted by “moments.” Why meet at the corner of Rue Montparnasse and Rue Bologne when you can meet at a tomb?) So Io slithered into Gory’s cherry red Audi TT (subtle-mobile) and went off. I don’t exactly know what they did, but Locke and I headed to the butcher shop to buy him some cruelty-free dinner. You know how when you’re in the hospital you can live off that bag of sugar water they pump into you? Pig blood is sort of the vampire equivalent. I’m sorry to say that I needed something more, but I was ashamed to have Locke watch me. (you don’t usually bring a nice steak dinner to eat in front of the guy on the IV drip, especially if the steak is in the present tense and needs some killing first). So we got on the Metro toward the cemetery and get off at a station where I found a guy and left him with a lot less blood than he started with. Back onto the train, another stop, and I spotted a lady with some shopping bags (more like two quick burgers than a fillet—I have to admit I’m not picky. Gory will only feed from a particular kind of person but I don’t care as long as they’re not scary or able to put up too much of a fight). After she falls for my “lost passport cute American helpless girl” bit I find that this woman is a screamer—and her screams freak Locke out. So enough about dinnertime, it’s only relevant because we need the blood to be able to fight, and you need to know the truth. (You can turn off the Mexican music now).

After meeting at the cemetery, and after some debate, we decide to hit the number one vampire night spot—The Louvre. Io is excited because she doesn’t get out much, and I’m excited because I might see Stephan. But the real reason for going is because if anything is happening with “It” we have the best chance of finding out about it there.

A lot is happening when we get there (it makes you wonder about the guards and security, right? Well, don’t. Just consider them taken care of!) We hear lots of buzz—turns out the muckity mucks of all the clans are here, and we make our way toward the Prince to bow, to acknowledge publically that we are hers (and to remind her we’re still alive!). I head off to see what I can find out from my clan. Holding Locke’s hand I start to head over, only to hear Gory hiss in my ear that I can’t take him over there—he doesn’t belong. I hate to leave him behind as much as I hate to admit Gory’s right. I pause for a moment on my way over because I hear Gory’s voice—he’s talking to Locke.

G: Were you alwayz like this? (He means moody, dark, quiet and wussy.)

L: No, I used to be human. (He means, “fuck you.”)

Pained, I make my way over to where I see Stephan, radiant. I know, it sounds like I have a big old crush on him, but it’s really not like that. It’s not like we would settle down and eat kids together. I just know that he is mine and I am his—his blood makes mine flow. It’s weird. Stephan tells me that he knows more than he can tell me (even this is somehow appealing—he can frustrate me and block me and it just feels kind of coy) but he does tell me that there are lots of elders in town, most of whom have been invited. Everyone’s all a twitter about “it” and Stephan tells me that even he doesn’t know what “it” is but we’ll know it when we see it. So, the primogens of all the clans are here—Guillame de Sonnac, the Tremere, Guy de Peste, the Nosferatu and Mercy Quartermain, the Ventrue are in town (is it just me or must vampires have to rename themselves? Maybe after a lifetime you need to start fresh with a new identity. Because, no parent could be that ironic, right? Let us suffice to say that Mercy is not merciful. The quality of said droppeth not from heaven onto her. At all).

The uninvited one is a Gangrel anarch. She likes to cruise into town, see who’s new, break skulls and drink a lot. When I ask why all these fancy pants let her it’s clear to me that “let” is a pretty broad term. They’re all scared of her, but too proud to say.

Meanwhile, Io took Locke to his new favorite place, the corner. They met a cute little girl with curly honey colored hair holding a freaky stuffed cat all full of extra eyes and limbs. His name is “Mr. Black.” And she says, “Mr. Black knows secrets. He’ll tell you if he wants to.”

Locke said, “You’re small.” Is it me or has the change made him focus on the obvious?

“I’m not a little girl.” And this not a little girl turns out to be the Malkavian (CRAZY ASS!) primogen, Annabelle Lee.

Across the room, past centuries of collected art and beauty, Gory spoke with his primogen. Mercy, the power dyke. She is at the intersection of approving and mocking when it comes to Gory. He gets things done (“I favor direct approach”) but not as elegantly as she’d like.

G: I heard about Gangrel cur.

M: You mean the pirate bitch?

G: Shall we establish a chain of command?

M: (smiling without mirth) Try it.

G: Is this permission? (Maybe what Gory wants is a nice girl in black leather to tell him what to do).

M: Go for it. She won’t like you—she doesn’t like power struggles.

G: I wasn’t going to give her chance for struggling.

M: Look, she’s a Gangrel with magic. She was a pirate, and found a human wizard’s toys. Everyone just gives her space now and sighs when she leaves. It’s not worth the fight.

Something in Gory’s expression says that everything is worth the fight to him, especially when he finds out the nugget of joy that is stolen weapons shipments, maybe Brujah-run gangs. He likes gangs, he likes earning Mercy’s brownie points, and this fight sounds like it’s worth even more than the other one.

Across the room (it’s funny how you stop noticing the art after awhile) Annabelle has decided she likes Io and Locke. After establishing that the Gangrel’s claws are not at all like Mr. Black’s, she tells them about Tremere in special dark parts of the catacombs. They found old magic and it changed them, but they thought it was worth it, losing their other clothes. She’s mystifying, but when you hear her you know she’s telling a truth.

Gory knows her, too, wins her over with a shiny coin and with petting the bedraggled and scary Mr. Black. When Annabelle skips somberly off Gory warns everyone of her great power and madness. Seriously, besides the cat she seems like a really cute kid. And then there’s the cat. Ughhh.

Io decides to talk Guy de Peste, and they show their strange caste system—like there are levels of ugly that are better than others. He does tell Io that the Gangrel pirate likes to hang out at a club called The Rose, a pirate-themed place, and that we, the young and dumb are just her kind of thing. When Io mentions the Brujah weapon thieves Gory told us about, Guy says that the Brujah are old Spanish nobility who want their nobility back, even if they have to steal it box by box from the Ventrue.

Quietly, we try to make a plan. That’s a little like picking a restaurant—everyone has an opinion and no one ever agrees, you just finally accept something to be done with it. While we negotiate, this little geeky Tremere named Roger comes over. I think he has a crush on me—or do vampires even flirt? Maybe it’s residual social awkwardness leftover from life. Anyway, he starts yammering about how The DaVinci Code is true (thematically, not in terms of style). “But really, you should read the source material, Holy Blood, Holy Grail (yeah, we’ll get right on that…) If we unlock the code we can find The Treasure (note Winnie-the-Pooh caps—this is the “it” in question).

Since no one can stand the thought of reading The DaVinci Code we go back to our plan of heading over to The Rose. We cram into the Audi (really meant for two) and make our way there. It’s a rowdy bar, styled like a set from Pirates of the Caribbean and it’s only after we get drinks (to blend in—there’s no real fun in human food or drink) we notice a clump of vampires in the back, circled around a figure standing on the table. It’s a woman of classical androgyny—with full red lips and yellow eyes (so help me, yellow eyes) and pointy silver fingernails.

She’s just finishing a story that everyone is too afraid not to pretend was interesting, “So there I was in a room full of Princes—and I flipped them off. I guess I won’t be going back to Tokyo anytime soon!!” Cue cued laughter. Then she cocked her head a little and said, “Fresh meat! I can smell you!” Grigori entered into a battle of wits (that personally I don’t think either of them was armed for) with her and tries to find out some info on his mysterious Viktor ( The thing with Gory is that even when he seems like he’s working for us he’s really just working for himself.) During their talk she feeds off a cutie boy-toy and then drops him like a used up juice box. Gory flatters her, “We were told about the great Gangrel beauty, so we have come to see…” and when he has her attention (cuz, seriously, she can’t hear that she’s beautiful too frequently) he tells her that he has a for-her-ears-only message. Then he tells her that the Brujah stealing arms are gunning for her—she needs to know it’s not the Ventrue.

Finally we get to the heart of it—she’s heard about “it” too and has a story about it. She bids us follow her and we do, all except Locke who wants to help out Juice Box Boy but he doesn’t actually want to be saved.

We follow her down the street. She breaks into an apartment and she sets us up around her, pretending we are children and she’s telling us a story. (creepy!) In a creepy pirate nutshell:

“It” is a Templar treasure. Back in the Crusades the Templar got fabulously wealthy. Gold. Jewels. But here’s where it got interesting. Something more than gold happened and they changed. The Templar treasure is stuff and it’s worth a lot, but the real treasure is their SECRET. They went darker, with secret initiations and rituals (Gory interrupted, “they were being ‘made men?’”----shhh). The treasure caused them to change, because even with powerful magic, they must hide and hide it. And now, Paris is groaning with important vampires because someone is controlling the treasure, and someone else WANTS it. She heard that maybe the Prince wants to use us to find it and then get rid of us, and maybe she’d like to see the Prince FAIL. (Not us succeed, mind you).

So she tells us, “Find the Templars—or you’ll just fall into the Prince’s trap and die.”

So we head back to the Louvre. Stupid Roger was stupid right? (I speed read TDC, trying not to focus on how bad it is and rather on what it might tell us.) But when we get there, no Roger. We head over to look at The Painting. Her eyes follow you. Then the cell rings, “I need you to come meet me, come here. I went poking around and I found something.”

Roger gives us directions and we go—what else is there to do? Oh yeah, run, hide, cry. We go. It’s a big house. Only one light on. I try the phone number we got the call from, to tell him we’re here. No answer. Gory breaks the door down. We hear muttered voices, breathing. Gory and Io head upstairs. Locke and I stay down, I guess we’re watching the door, or maybe we’re hiding. There’s a light upstairs, under a door, and Io hears voices, “Be here any moment.” “We kill them or they kill us.”

This is all the motivation Gory needs to go in guns blazing. From downstairs I can’t follow what’s happening, I only hear screams, and shots and more screams. There are more than two voices worth of guys, but when the smoke clears, and Io and Gory have torn their way through, no one is still standing. I know that Gory fought brilliantly and cruelly and that Io was silent, deadly and fed on the battlefield. But what was there when Locke and I came up was a dead Roger, a shot-up, battle-mad Gory, dripping his own and other people’s blood, and a couple of guys left alive enough to question.

Locke quietly begins asking questions. Why would they try to kill us? You’re monsters./Why Roger? Master said to kill him./Who is your Master? Grand Master Gerard Robichaud/Grand Master of what? Templars./Why are Templars hunting vampires? Because we would undo what they have done over centuries. /Where is Robichaud? No. I will keep the faith.

Turns out there are things scarier than us (us as in Vampires, not us as in us—we’re not exactly formidable!) The Templars are protecting something, and Roger knew it and had to die. Roger was meeting a traitor—someone who knew and would tell.

Roger is searched—he has an iPhone that he keeps his notes on (finally, a break!) and there’s a note that says, “DaVinci’s last work??!?” I take the phone to explore later, and Io gets his hotel key. There’s also a Templar sword here that will make a fitting tribute to our Prince. Gory wants to kill them all except for one, to be sent back to the Grand Master as a message.

We search the house before we go. In the desk there’s a big handwritten book, and the pages are open to DaVinci and his last days (they really should have tidied up before the battle, I guess) which he spent in France. All of the work he did before his death was…lost. Right.

We take the book and the message we leave is: Compliments of Prince Celeste. Io takes the wounded man into the sewer (that’s gotta be healthy!) and we all head back to the Louvre. It’s nearly dawn by the time we get back, and when we get there…well, let’s say Celeste takes “special interest” in him and leave it at that.

We go home, tired, hurt and quiet. Svetlana opens the door and we’re all heading to bed when Gory draws me aside and tells me, “You are good to family. That is good. That is why I come to speak with you. Know this, you are killing him. He is LaSombra. He is tainted. You keep him from proving himself, and he will die. I know you are unhappy with this life, but the Camarilla will oblige and take it from you. Let him be a man and fight for you. I know how these families work.”

Yeah, well fuck you buddy. I wish I could completely discount what he said, but even now it’s nagging at me.

Anyway, it’s just another fun-filled day in the life of me.

Love you eternally,

Laurel