7.05 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. The Waiting Room
As Stallion and Dominic broadened their minds, and Eclipse and I arrived outside the pumpstation, Mads was waiting, a cold and very congealed cup of blood on her lap, the snickers and murmurs of unseen Nosferatu around her.
If I’m being forced to wait, she thought, I might as well learn something. More than Nosferatu can listen. Closing her eyes, Mads focused her senses and listened in to the conversations, no more than a faint buzz around her.
“She’s young, but her question’s pretty significant. I’d say they won’t keep her waiting much longer. I’ll take ten minutes.”
“Yes, there are several more prominent wanting to know the same thing, but they have to wait too,” Said another voice, “Maybe she knows something. I say we can tease it out of her with a little more waiting. Put me down for an hour.”
“Ah, but she’s promised something unique. Surely, that’s going to push her up the line. I’ll put a small boon on no more than five minutes.”
They’re betting to see how long I’ll be kept waiting? Mads quietly smiled and shook her head. It seemed like not even the Nosferatu knew what to do with her.
7.05 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. Old Waterworks Pumpstation Number 1
I parked the Audi and, in my mind, went through our plan one more time. We knew where we needed to go and what we were looking for. We didn’t know what to expect from security, but I was prepared to be flexible with either human or technological solutions. I pulled out my phone and turned it off. I didn’t need the buzz of a mobile startling either Eclipse or me into dropping a jar or catching the attention of security. Noting my actions, Eclipse took my phone and, with hers, put them in the glove compartment. I gave her a questioning look.
“Phones are never truly off,” She explained, locking the compartment with a click.
A good point, I hadn’t considered.
“They will be here if we get back.”
“I love how you phrased that,” But I had to admit, I had thought that myself. Now we really were on our own.
Grabbing the bag carrying the heart, we crossed the street and headed through the green doors. We were forty minutes early, and even with a long walk down the endless flight of stairs, we’d arrive in plenty of time.
“If you’re early, you’re on time,” Eclipse had said back at the apartment, and I had to agree. Besides, I was eager to see this thing done.
Too much had been sacrificed for it already.
7.20 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. The Waiting Room
“Excuse me, Miss,” A voice all wet lips and strong hisses, whispered beside Mads. She’d been focused on the low voices, so when the whisper came, it was like a bombing voice right in her ear. The teacup rattled on its saucer.
‘Uh! Yes?”
“Please follow me,” Said the voice as a misshapen lump shuffled ahead and out of the room.
Mads made to rise, realised she was still holding the tea cup and went to put the chair.
No, no chairs aren’t for teacups! Said a part of her who once cared about such things.
She took the cup with her.
Out of the dark waiting room, Mads was ushered into a space that looked out of time. An office with rows of desks, each equipped with a typewriter. Nosferatu were busy at work as if in some twisted 1980s typing pool. As they advanced, the technology advanced along with them, so it felt like they were travelling through time in the same office. By the time they reached a desk where a Nosfertau was waiting, they had a desktop, though it looked more custom than most office computers she’d seen.
She was offered a seat beside the desk, and the new Nosferatu got down to business.
“And what can we do for you today?”
That was a little disturbing. The information network of the Nosferatu was legendary. She was told they would be in touch with her tonight, so surely someone was working on her information request…somewhere.
“Ur…I believe…another one… never mind. I’m here looking for information, the location of someone.”
“Good, what information are you after?”
“The location of one Izac Grimoil.”
Her statement was met with silence heavier than even the one from the night before, if that was possible. The Nosferatu leaned back in their chair as if assessing Mads’ ability to pay back a loan. Maybe he was doing just that.
“Quite a task you’ve set for us,” The Nosferatu said, filling the silence, and Mads had the feeling he was genuinely intrigued by her request.
What is it with this mysterious Izac?
“What do you offer?” The Nos continued, typing something into his computer that Mads couldn’t see.
“I was told you guys wanted something special. I do have information about the capabilities of an individual you could point others to regarding speaking to the dead.”
I wish I could say my ears were ringing, but I was busy putting one foot in front of another down the long staircase.
The Nosferatu, on the other hand, waved that offer away, “We know all the Capadocians residing in the city.”
“What if someone didn’t want to talk to a Capadocian?” And the clicking of keyboard keys stopped.
“Surely, you jest,” The Nosferatu said, now forgetting their computer for the conversation at hand.
“I wouldn’t be down here otherwise,” Mads felt this was a good angle, maybe too good an angle to go by this Nosferatu’s expression.
“Who are you indicating? What makes them so special?”
“They’re much more…approachable. Look, I’ll only hand out this information if we have a deal.”
At this, the Nosferatu seemed disappointed and went back to their typing.
“Can I see what else you have? What may be behind door number two? Or three perhaps?”
“Only two doors, “ Mads felt her hold on the Nosferatu slipping, lucky she had another idea, “What do you know about Dominic Giovanni?”
“The same as any other Giovanni. Why?”
“I may be able to help with a particular means of gathering information. Access to his servers?”
“Servers, you say?” the Nosferatu leaned forward again, once more on the hook, “How would you grant us permission to that?”
“You guys are technie, I’m sure you can cook something up, so, if I say connect a thumb drive into the servers, you could get all the access you wanted.”
“And you’d take this risk?”
“There’d be a condition. Surely your tech wizard could wipe particular security drives? ”
The Nosfertau was slipping the hook. “This sounds far more mutual than it should be.”
“I’d be happy to take the risk as long as you wipe evidence of my activities from the security system.”
The fish flicked its tail and swam off. “Is that all you can offer?”
“You wanted something special. I offer you information from a new source.” Mads reeled her line back in. She knew what she was offering was good. Was there something she was missing? Something about her task she wasn’t seeing? A simple single piece of information.
“Why are you after that one?” The Nosferatu had forgotten all pretence of writing and had changed the game.
“I have…questions. Choices to make once I find him. Personal business.” If she hadn’t shared with Eclipse or me, she certainly wasn’t sharing those details with a Nosferatu for free…if at all.
The Nosferatu leaned in, smelling more than just the bait she was offering, “Now that sounds special. Something nobody else knows.”
Mads sucked her teeth, disappointed, “And you’d rather take that information?”
“We’d take that as well.”
“You’re not getting all three!” She balked. She was happy to give away one. She’d do two if the conditions were met, but to give all three? No. Not ever.
“Then you won’t get one,” the Nosferatu grinned, at least Mads assumed it was a grin. She didn’t want to think what it was otherwise.
“That’s incredibly unfair.”
“Boo hoo. Go tell the Prince. I’m sure he’d love to hear all your…explanation.”
Now what could she do? She didn’t have any other unique items to tempt the Nosferatu with. Her reasons for wanting Izac were hers alone, but maybe it was possible to salvage something out of this with the other two?
“I’m happy to give you two things instead of three. I’d rather keep my personal agendas to myself.”
“I’m afraid that’s not an option. We will be requiring all three.” The Nosferatu leaned back in his chair once more, it creaked under the pressure. The deal had been one unique item, and she’d offered two. What was going on here? Was he stalling?
“Do you have his location or not?”
“Do we have a deal?”
“So long as you have his location,” Of which Mads was suspecting they didn’t. It was confirmed a moment later.
“These things take time to verify,” The Nosferatu admitted. Of course, the question everyone was asking. Half the Nosferatu network must be looking for Izac, and yet they couldn’t answer her question.
“I don’t have time,” She replied, infuriated by the run around she’d been subjected to. Still, she needed Nosferatu’s good opinion and kept her anger in check.
“How much time do you have?”
“Until the club.”
“Three days. We can probably get you that information before then.”
“I can wait that long.”
“So, we have a deal?”
Righteous anger boiled within her. She’d been messed around and left to wait. The stupid teacup sat on the desk in front of her, and for what? They didn’t have the information, though they were willing to negotiate for it as if they did. If I was correct, Izac could well appear back at the bar within the next three days. Then she’d been out the three pieces of information for nothing. Waiting a few days wasn’t going to hurt.
But, she was well aware she was deep in Nosferatu territory. If the deal went sour, would she be allowed to leave?
“If I step away from this table, what’s to say you’re not going to gun me down? I saw the big gun on the way in.”
“Please,” The Nosferatu’s face twisted into a grimace of distaste which completely hid any human features he may have had, “We don’t need that for you. We’d just get one of the neonates to take you out. No, we’re a bit more civilised than that and repeat business is always preferable to single business.”
“Maybe I could find something more lucrative, and yet…” She was giving up a lot on a maybe, “…No, sorry.”
“Good day,” The Nosferatu said and turned back to his computer, the clicking of keys a full stop on their conversation.
No one came to show her the way out, but it was clear she had been dismissed. Somehow, she’d have to find her own way out. She rose to leave.
“Don’t forget to take your cup,” Said the Nosferatu, now determinately trying to ignore her, “It doesn’t belong here.”
“Oh, sorry,” She picked up the teacup, and not knowing what else to do with it, took it with her.
The trip back through the labyrinth that was the Nosferatu lair was confusing and convoluted. She tried to go back the way she’d come, but failed to find the mine elevator. She then gave up and started looking for any way that went up. Testing any passage that seemed to lead towards the surface, she slowly made her way out of the Nosferatu den and into the stormwater drains and forgotten passages.
She spotted moonlight half an hour before midnight and pushed over a stormwater grate. She was near a reserve on the banks of the Georges River, at Sylvania, way to the south and well out of the city’s limits. Climbing out into the warm but overcast evening, Mads walked down to the water’s edge, the lights from Tom Ugly’s Bridge lighting both the sky and water.
In that quiet place, only lit by the stars, the moon, and the distant streetlights, she washed the stench of sewerage from her skin, her feet, shoes, and legs. She washed away the disappointment and the frustration of being played like a sucker for all she had. And for what? One small piece of information, not even that, as they didn’t have it. She washed until she forgot why she was washing and finally stopped. Picking up her phone and the tea cup she had yet to put down, she walked to the main road to look for a bus stop.
7.50 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. The Nosferatu Foyer
We may have left with plenty of time, but Eclipse and I were at the bottom of the staircase ten minutes before eight and were greeted by squashed tomato face and crew.
“Okay, are you ready?” He looked us over, eyeing the sports bag in my hand, “I hope you’re not trying to Rambo this thing.”
“Our goal is the opposite,” I assured him, careful not to swing the bag, mindful of its present contents.
“Good. So you’re right to go?”
“And where is that, exactly?” Always more savvy than me with the labyrinthine passages of the museum, Eclipse asked our guide.
“The back door.”
“And where’s that, exactly?”
Squashed tomato face and Eclipse discussed the location of our entrance for a moment, sharing architectural features until both seemed satisfied that they were in the same location. Eclipse looked grim. It was on the floor we wanted, but the path to our destination seemed convoluted…more than I could keep up. Not for the first time, I was glad I wasn’t on this job alone.
Once everyone seemed satisfied, our guide led the way out of what we’d come to call the Foyer and deep into the passageways, tunnels, pipes and caverns of the Nosferatu’s world underground. We walked through a continually changing array of spaces, winding left and right without seeming regard for where our destination lay. Eclipse was silent as usual, head bowed and eyes flickering left and right, she was as on edge as I felt. I filled my mind with the steps and features of our path with all its twists and turns.
Fifteen, sixteen, take the left, a flickering light….forty-nine fifty, a metal ladder…
Fortunately, our guides were not chatty.
For forty minutes, we walked in silence, only the scuffing of our footfalls telling our presence. Suddenly, we stopped in the middle of a passageway where a piece of plywood leaning against the wall denoted it as different from any other passage we’d travelled. Eclipse looked from me to the Nosferatu, perplexed. Carefully setting down the sports bag, I grabbed either side of the plywood and pulled it aside.
A cool breeze and the smell of fresher (though by no means fresh) air drifted through a black metal grate. Beyond it, the bottom of an elevator shaft, thick metal cables running through massive pulleys bolted to the concrete. The metal grid easily popped out of its frame and into the shaft, and Eclipse and I stepped through. Across from the grate, the manual handle for the door was marked with red and white tape. I reached out to start winding the doors open, when I felt the tingle of Eclipse’s magic and turned to see she’d disappeared.
“Me opening this door won’t break your obfuscate?” I asked, unsure how her ability worked.
“Possibly, but only for you. You’re opening all the doors, remember?” Her voice echoed around the shaft, though I seemed alone.
“O-kay,” I accepted and opened the door.
The lift opened onto a linoleum-covered passageway lit sporadically with minimum security lighting. There was no one around. I checked for camera domes. Nothing. Flicking on Auspex to note where the human security were within the building, I was almost blinded when I turned in the direction of our destination.
Light and colours of every hue and texture fought for my attention. There were even colours I couldn’t perceive, only perceptible by the swirlings of other colours around their space. Hundreds of hearts, all still connected to their owners going on with their lives. The sensation was overwhelming, like being surprised by continual camera flashes in a dark room. My hand automatically went to my eyes in an attempt to shield them from the glare until I thought to dismiss Auspex. Even then, the afterimage still roiled and spun in my vision, a negative version overlaid everything I looked at. I shook my head to try to clear it.
“What?” Eclipse whispered, barely a breath, but easily discerned in the silence.
“I didn’t expect the hearts to be so…emotional,” I whispered back, pointing in the direction of the glow. She seemed to understand, or at least didn’t comment on it, just whispered the first direction out of the hall.
“There should be a door to the right. Go through and down the passage. Around the corner, there’s a set of stairs. Take them…”
Carefully, I did as I was told, holding open the doors we went through until I felt her pass by. At each hallway intersection, I checked for cameras or other security. Nothing. I’d expected something. It seemed a little eerie that there was nothing but empty corridors.
“The double doors to the right,” Eclipses’ disembodied voice said, and I opened one of the double doors, allowing her through before following her into the room.
There was no mistaking it. This was the place. Lines and lines of wooden cabinets with glass sliding doors displayed rows and rows of jars with human hearts inside. Hundreds of hearts seemed an underestimation as we silently moved down the rows in search of the one we needed. Going off what I’d seen while astral projecting, it was only a few minutes’ work to find the one we wanted.
“See the one on the middle shelf? In the new jar?” I whispered down the seemingly empty hall, “That’s the heart I travelled to. We need to find one like it.” I started searching the other hearts present for one of a similar size, shape and colour. So many hearts, all as unique as their owners. I’d started to wonder if it was a lost cause when a couple of rows away, I found one. I carefully placed the sports bag on the ground.
My recent education in Thaumaturgy had given me some insight into security beyond the mundane. A kindred using blood magic runes could make an early warning system that informed them if someone had used a door way. The esoteric equivalent of putting a hair across a door jam. I figured the same could be in use here, but as hard as I looked, I could see no sign of magic. It seemed ridiculous that all these hearts would be stored here with no security at all. And still, what did we really know of the Prince’s capabilities? I was about to put them to the test.
I opened the cabinet and picked up the selected jar. No flash of lightning, no feeling of impending doom. Crouching down, I placed the jar on the ground beside the bag and unzipped it. The heart we’d harvested the night before lay intact in its jar of Everclear. Side by side it was clear that a fresh human heart could never been a replacement for a vampires. There was a… wholesomeness that the vampire heart, even preserved, could not match. Unscrewing both lids, I took out the human heart and replaced it with the heart of an unknown kindred. Placing the kindred heart in the Everclear for now, I screwed the lid back on the jar of the human heart and placed it right where I’d found it, careful to wipe off fingerprints.
The Everclear jar I took back to where Izac’s lay waiting. It was odd to watch the jar seemingly levitate off the shelf on its own. There was a moment Eclipse must have stood watching her lover’s heart through the glass. There are many proverbs about stealing hearts, but what kin or kine could say they actually held their loved one’s heart in their hand? It hung motionless in the air, the only movement a slight ripple on the preserving fluid. Eventually, the moment must have passed, the jar floated towards the ground, and the lid unscrewed. I removed the kin’s heart from the Everclear jar as Izac’s rose from the fluid of its own accord, and drifted across to the sink below the alcohol.
I placed the heart in the now-empty jar of Izac’s heart and returned it to the shelf. Our jar’s lid closed over Izac’s heart and screwed down tight before the jar returned to the darkness of the sports bag.
8.40 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. Somewhere
Izac, alone except for his companion, the red heifer, suddenly became aware of music.
So, pack up your car, put a hand on your heart
Say whatever you feel, be wherever you are
We ain’t angry at you, love
You’re the greatest thing we’ve lost.
For a moment, he thought it must have been coming from outside. A passing car or someone sharing the song with a friend as they walked down the street. Then he remembered where he was, and realised the music wasn’t outside him, but coming from inside.
From the empty space where his heart should be.
We ain’t angry at you, love
We’ll be waitin’ for you, love
And we’ll all be here forever
And we’ll all be here forever
We sure will.
Noah Kahan, You’re gonna go far, 2022
A feeling of movement, eyes closed, listening to this music as a hand reached out and took his. Side by side, clutching each other in support or to shield each other from the horrors. Luna’s hand reached out and touched…his heart? Luna had his heart?
“Shit!” He exploded from his seat, wanting to confirm this….miracle.
“Tell me you can feel that!” Izac said out loud to himself…to his beast, his only companion besides the bovine, who had no great opinion on modern music.
You must betray your heart, Was all he got in reply.
The five words stopped him as surely as if Luna had plunged a sliver of wood through his missing organ. He collapsed back into his seat, startling his companion.
“Oh God! Put it back….love…put it back….”
8.50 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. The Princes’ Heart Collection
With all the care of cats knowing the junk yard dog could leap out at any moment, Eclipse and I took the bag and retraced our path back to the liftshaft. Closing the elevator doors, I slid aside the plywood sheeting to find the Nosferatu waiting.
“Here we are!” I said, with the now visible Eclipse. With the plywood back in place, there was nothing to say we’d ever been there.
“So you guys done?” Squashed tomato asked, somewhat surprised.
“We’re done.” And we probably were. The heist seemed far too easy, like we were meant to come.
“Splendid. Did you do anything wrong? Break anything, leave any evidence…?”
“Nope,” Eclipse replied with her new cool assurance, “Everything exactly where it’s meant to be.”
“Good. We’d hate to lose this access to clumsiness. So, where would you like to go?”
“Back the same way is fine,” I confirmed. The farther out of the environs of the museum, the better. Eclipse looked concerned at the Nosferatu’s questions, but they seemed surprised we’d done so well.
And so was I.
The walk back was…less foreboding. The post-job euphoria was quickly followed by the pressure to leave with our prize and get out of harm’s way. As is my habit, my hands slipped into my pocket to look for something to fidget with. In days before, it would have been my puzzle box, now in pieces, back at my apartment. This night, my fingers found something altogether different. Something very unexpected. From the left-hand pocket of my jacket, I pulled a slip of paper. Palming the paper, I opened it away from the prying eyes of our guides.
I stumbled trying to comprehend how I could have received this. One of the Nosferatu with us could have put it there at any time during our walk in. A preemptive note from the Prince in case we did the job? I have a robust ego, but even I don’t think the Prince spent his waking period thinking of things I ‘may’ do. The pieces of my puzzlebox made it into my pocket when I was in torpor. At that time, I was being watched constantly, if not well, by Stallion, Giuseppi and Eclipse. Somehow, I didn’t think it was the Nosferatu.
Regardless, we’d outstayed our welcome in Sydney at least for a couple of days. I walked up beside Eclipse and quietly showed her the note before returning it to my pocket.
Nothing was said for the rest of the trip. Even climbing up the stairs back to the car, I held my tongue lest the locals listen in. When we were both back in the car and moving away, I finally shared my plans for the next forty-eight hours.
“Now, I don’t know what you want to do until we meet up with Izac to give him…that thing, but I’m heading out to the farm.”
“Why are you going out to the farm?” She asked as if I’d proposed a trip to Disneyland.
“A number of reasons. Firstly, we have a body to get rid of.”
“Which one?” We had made quite a spectacle for ourselves the night before, but it couldn’t be helped.
“The one we took the heart from.” I was very aware that though bodies were often dismembered at the Crow Bar, most weren’t missing just their hearts. It was a red-hot smoking gun pointing at us.
Eclipse dismissed this thought by looking out the passenger window, “The body is the Club’s problem. Let Bruce worry about it.”
“Where do you think they go? Besides, I’m not leaving a body that conveniently looks like Izac lying around. Also, I have to check the tree.”
“The tree’s at the farm?”
“The tree is at the farm.”
For a moment, her face furrowed in thought, and I guessed she was worried about her reaction to the tree. Though a ritual had brought it to life and the attention we lavished on it could be considered by some as worship, it was not an item or symbol of faith. It was a tree. A very unusual one, I grant, but a tree. There were suburbs of silence as I let Eclipse work out what she thought of my plan.
“So, we’re going back to the bar, picking up the body and taking it out to the farm to feed the tree?” She catches on fast.
“Yep. I figure we can get out to the farm tonight. Deal with the body and drive back tomorrow night.”
“And we’ll be back in time for Succubus?”
“We’ll be back in time for Izac’s return…and Succubus.” At least, that was my plan, “It gets us out of town…way out of town…”
“It makes us untraceable,” Eclipse added, which was mundanely true, now that she’d disabled our phones. I knew better. “Sounds perfect. But we’ll pick up a burner phone at the bar.”
Right. Body, Blood bags (for a snack) Burner phone and Bush!
8.50 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. The Crow Bar
Mads was the only one at the bar. Since the heist had been called off, she’d expected Eclipse and me to be at the bar somewhere. It got to a point she would have been pleased to see even Dominic or even Stallion just to find out what was going on.
HI. WHERE U@? She texted all the members of the coterie she had numbers for.
She received no response. Eventually, left to her own devices, Mads slipped into her old habits and started a collection of empty glasses and secrets.
8.50 pm Monday, 11 hours until sunrise, 4 days until the S.C. Other places
With Stallion still getting to know himself, Dominic was learning how to exploit the dead.
The quiet of Dominic’s study was interrupted by the buzz of his phone. He tapped the screen, noted it wasn’t one of his childe, Bruce or Giuseppe, and went back to his studies.
Nothing to do with him.
12.00 am Tuesday, 6 hours until sunrise, 3 days until the S.C. The Crow Bar
The buzz in Mads’ head was nothing to the buzz of the crowd in the V.I.P. room. The room was busy, so close to the big event, and kin from all over were taking advantage of Dominic’s hospitality. Her hearing extended, Mads listened in on the conversations going on around her. And she was picking up some juicy tidbits.
Someone in the room was planning a murder.
“…you know I thought it would work out great…but it’s been seven years and I’ve really tried to train her…but she has too much of that…” said one voice in the crowd, their words only slightly broken by the conversations around them, “…you know?
“No, but go on,” said another more sober voice in reply. Mads figures they must be facing in her direction as their words were perfectly clear.
“…yeah well, I’m going to offer… an ultimatum. Either step in line, or I’m going to have to silence them…”
From what Mads could gather through the interference, a Brujah named ‘The Reckoner’ was listening to a Malkavian, whose name was the click of the tongue at the back of the mouth, as they complained about their childe named Vida. Vida was the potential victim of the hit.
Not my problem, she thought as she drained her last drink and failed to gain the eye of the waiting staff. I’ve known a few Vidas. Could be anyone of them. They could be in Vida, Oregon, for all I know.
Rising carefully from her seat like the experience drunk she was, Mads sauntered casually across to the bar and ordered another drink.
“Hey, another pixie snap?” Asked the bartender.
“Ah,no, just a red. Ah, do you know anyone named Vida? A Malkavian?” Mads replied, pleased at how well she didn’t slur. After forty years, she was getting good at this.
“Why would you want to know about old Vida?” The bartender suddenly closed down, not willing to share that information with just anyone.
“I hear they’re in a spot of bother. I’m trying to be helpful. I suppose.”
“Well, everyone needs a friend…you can find Old Vida at one of her stomping grounds. Vida Goldstein.”
“Where did she say she was?” Mads asked, sure she’d missed something in the bustle of the bar.
“I didn’t. Her old stomping grounds,” The drink was handed over and the bartender passed Mads over to serve the next customer.
Back at her table, Mads pulled out her phone and looked up the name Vida Goldstein. Her search didn’t take long. At the turn of the last century,Vida Goldstein had been a prominent public figure. A Suffragette and activist in social welfare, particularly for women. She campaigned for reformist legislation and was known for her public speaking, especially when dealing with the most abusive of hecklers. Shortly after Federation, as women were given Federal Suffrage, she ran for parliament as an independent, one of the first women in the English speaking world to do so.
She was internationally renowned for her pacifist stance and fight for basic livable wage. Though no saint in life, she was a woman who had inspired nations at one time. Now, she was just another crazy Malkavian, probably stalking abusive men for her ‘down-troden’ sisters.
“I think I’m just the person for this job,” Mads said to herself.
For a while she contemplated getting herself roughed up so one of the local shelters would take her in. Then she looked around her, and half of Sydney’s vampire community (and much of its international) were represented by individuals in the room with her at that very moment. Leaving her teacup behind, she picked up her drink and went in search of ‘L’, the Malkavian.
“Couldn’t help but hear you were having a problem.”
A wild-eyed individual turned and looked her up and down a moment before deciding to respond.
“Yeah, I guess I was pretty loud about that wasn’t I. Fucking child…not you, not you…just Vida.” ‘L’ said, looking through Mads instead of at her.
“Tell me…what’s…what’s going on?” Asked Mads suffering from her own self-induced mental disorder.
“You know…when I took her on I expected her madness to manifest more than one dimensionally…” ‘L’ complained.
“One-dimensional madness…” Mads repeated, just to make sure she’d heard correctly, “How do you mean?”
“Well, you know about her, don’t you?”
“Yeah, “ she smiled. Her five minutes’ worth of research was paying off, “Women’s rights, political reform advocate…before my time, of course.”
“Yeah, women this, equal rights that…it gets a little boring after half a century.”
“You were hoping for a little flavour in her…madness after all that time?”
“Yeah…throw a black cat over a lamp post…collect recyclable plastic bottles from garbage bins or something…no…she’s busy stalking her ‘…evil women abusing men…’.”
“She’s a bit of a one-trick pony?”
“Yes. Boring.”
“I mean, we could always try pushing her onto a different path,” Mads shrugged, not exactly sure what she could do about it.
“What do you recommend?” ‘L’ was seemingly taking her suggestion a little more seriously. At least one eye at any moment was focused on Mads.
“You’d rather her be a little more… cosmopolitan in her hunting?”
“A little more variety, to be honest. Like she can still do her thing, but just once in a while wrestle them.”
Mads didn’t know if she could do anything to sway the mind of a fixated Malkavian, but you never got anywhere by saying no to potential jobs.
“I might be able to help. I know some people who can…change people’s minds.”
“You!” Loopy ‘L’ gave Mads a look that compared her to the dirt being ground into the V.I.P. room carpet.
“Me.”
“You want the job?”
“I could try opening her mind to other possibilities.”
“Okay…you let me know where and when. I want front row seats.”
“Sure. Do you know where she is right now?”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh…I don’t know that place.”
“Neither do I. Go there.”
“Great…perfect…wonderful…” Mads took that as her signal to leave, “Good morning to you, too.”
12.00 am Tuesday, 6 hours until sunrise, 3 days until the S.C. The Crow Bar
*******************************************************************
Don’t Look Back
There’s no light at the end of this tunnel.
This promises a soon demise.
A vow to keep in four days time.
The passage goes on, and on, and on. Eclipse isn’t losing her resolve. Rain stays beside her, his shoulders rolled back and eyes set.
How far she’s strayed and yet some things don’t change.
They’re making deals together. Setting their sights on a common goal. They cover each other’s weaknesses.
They’re signing away their unlives.
“Ready?” Rain abandons their duffle bag in the elevator’s guts.
To die?
“Let’s save him.”
This is not a new tale.
Wait for me.
Many men have ventured into hell.
Rain goes to please a woman he has only seen in his dreams.
Eclipse goes to right her wrongs. To atone for her weaknesses.
Luna…
Luna goes to save the one she loves.
Put it back!
You’re gonna go far.
His heart doesn’t beat. It lays vulnerable in her hands, then against her heart. Eclipse has to keep this safe. She has to keep it close. Has to do whatever it takes if it means Izac reaches his goal.
This may be a fictional hell but this place…the creator is truly a horror within this world and there is a special place in hell for them.
A special place to be made for her.
The one who stole from the hand that feeds.
Didn’t she want a rebellion?
Survive four more days. Until the heart is delivered. This is your only purpose.
…wait for me
Notable NPCs
Abram: Ventrue, and one of six founders of Sydney Masquerade
Agaricus: Children of the Moon, and one of six founders of Sydney Masquerade
Alex Holmestead: Husband of Mads. Location and status unknown.
Alicia: Toreador Vampire met at the Crow Bar
Ambrogino: 5th Generation Vampire, Cappadocian and Elder of the Giovanni Clan.
Avel: Rain’s mother, a wraith.
Beelzebub: Fallen angel, demon entity in Rain’s pocket watch.
Blanco Falzo: A man who had made into the likeness of Stallion’s dog for a time. Now deceased.
Bobby Lisner: Malkavian seer who lives in an old Sewer pipe in The Rocks.
Brendan Virgil: A.K.A. Miss Divine Intervention. Rain’s close friend.
Bruce: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni
Cabolut Hazzim: the name given by a vampire who cleared out the homeless at Rain’s old squat. Prince’s Assassin.
Days of the Week: Pseudonyms for members of the Baali group Eclipse (Luna) is now part of.
She is Sunday, and they are missing Wednesday. Tuesday seems to be their nominal spokesperson, though they seem to have no leader.
Delith: Ambitious Ventrue bar staff at the Crowbar.
Detective Woodman: NSW Police ‘premiere’ detective and a sufferer of schizophrenia. He has an assistant currently called Notetaker.
Doctor Willis Hodge: Ghost acquaintance of Dominic Giovanni’s from the Coroner’s Court.
El Torcedor: “The Twister” or ore accurately, “The Fleshcrafter” A Tzimisce from South America
Founders of Sydney Masquerade: Those still alive: Abram, the Ventrue, in Canberra, Wid, the Nosferatu in Wollongong, Agaricus, Child of the Moon, Tasmania, Montague Layton, Toreador current whereabouts unknown.
Francis Tuttle: Name given in charge of the investigation into the deaths of homeless in Surry Hills.
Garcia: Sire. Unknown location.
Giuseppe Giovanni: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni and nephew.
Joel Mitchell: Mads’ friend. Deceased.
Kenneth Stahl: South African Giovanni (exiled)
Lady Merritt Stone: A very old and powerful vampire that has taken an interest in Izac. Rain spoke to her about the Coterie and Izac’s mission
Lambach Ruthven: Kin met at the theatre. Sire of Dracula. Drug addict.
Lenny: Rain’s Ghoul and artist friend, now with mages. Location unknown.
Lucretia: Childe of Ambrogino, now caretaker of the Pyrmont House and teacher to Dominic
Madeline Blackwell: Ghoul of Mr Giovanni, working at the State Coroners Court.
Montague Layton: Toreador, and one of six founders of Sydney Masquerade
Night Rider: Red-haired vampire? Works for the Prince.
Pangea: a Nosferatu (tunnel builder)
Padre Craneo: Nagaraja vampire met at the Crow Bar
Paul: a Nosferatu of the sewer rats
Prince Lodin: Prince of Chicago (until his final death in the 90s) and sire of Al Capone.
Prince Sarrasine (Sar-ras-seen): Toreador Ruler of Sydney*
Sebastian Melmoth: Kin met at the theatre. Powerful Toreador. Oscar Wilde.
Shara-had: Banu Haqim (Assamite).
Sparrow: a Nosferatu of the warren in Pyrmont, closest to home
Sydney Sewage Pumping Station number one: Known access to Nosferatu waiting room.
Teeth of Titanium: Werewolf dingo met in Leichhardt.
The Prestiege: The speak for the four Tremere met at the Blavatsky Lodge.
The Woman: A powerful being of unknown name who kidnapped Izac and enchanted Rain. Lady Merritt
Tom: A sleeping head awakened by Dominic in the Dreamtime.
Wid: Nosferatu, and one of six founders of Sydney Masquerade
Glossary of terms:
Anarchists: a faction of Vampires. Caused issues in Los Angeles recently, killed the Prince.
Antediluvian: from before the time of the biblical flood. The third generation that were the progenitors of the thirteen clans of vampires.
Baali: A bloodline bent on keeping beings old before time from waking up and destroying everything. Eclipse and the Days of the Week are Baali.
Banu Haqim: Also know as Assamites, Assassins though sometimes just mercenaries for hire.
Bone Gnawers: A pack of werewolves
Blood hunt: A process to destroy a vampire who has broken a tradition. Specifically mentioned in the sixth.
Blood worm: What a possessed vampire can turn into.
Black Spiral Dancers: A pack of werewolves that worship a being of entropy.
Brujah: One of the twelve clans of Cain.
Canaanites: Those descended from Cain, the first murderer and vampire.
Camarilla: a faction of Vampires closest to the Princes. Believe in hierarchy and order.
Children of Osirus: Bloodline outside the Caine family tradition who practise Bardo, a discipline to control the beast. Izac’s current Bloodline.
Children of Seth: Bloodline the Prince is rumoured to be (originally?)
Clan or Bloodline: From one of the children of Caine or subsequent established lines of vampires.
Christopher Charlton: Rain’s pseudonym.
Marauder: A mage gone mad. Living in his own pocket dimension that answers to the whim of his broken mind.
Diablerie : the drinking another vampire blood and soul
Favour: How Vampires pay for things they want or need doing.
Fetter: A place, person or thing that binds a wraith to the Shadowlands.
Gangrel: A bloodline of vampire. Stallion’s Bloodline.
Ghouls: Servants of a vampire who have been fed vitae. They are loyal, stronger, and more resilient, and sometimes, they show other powers gained from the blood. They must receive the blood at least once a month or they return to being human. Can be addictive.
Giovanni: A vampire bloodline that keeps within genetic family ties. Dominic is a Giovanni.
Glasswalkers: A pack of werewolves
Hunter: Members of the Society of Leopold, a branch of the Catholic Church. Fanatical vampire hunters and killers.
Kin: Short for Kindred. Vampires, a name among themselves
Kine: Humans
Marauder: a rouge mage, often mad. They are likely to act in a way that exposes the Otherworld of the Masquerade to exposure.
Masquerade : The rule that keeps vampire society safe. Hiding ones nature from the world.
Nagaraja: A bloodline that are obligated to eat the flesh as well as the blood of their victims.
Men in Black: An international unit dedicated to controlling supernatural and alien entities.
The Red List: a universal kill list of vampires. Maintained by the Camarilla, anyone on the list can be mudered without question.
Sabbat: a faction of Vampires that believe that the progenitors of the clans will one day awake and eat all their young.
The Theosophical Society: A private society of learning and tolerance based out of the Blavatsky Lodge, St. Leonards (https://sydney.theosophicalsociety.org.au)
Tremere Pyramid: A strict hierarchical structure that all Tremere are part of. Every member knows their place within the Pyramid. The antidiluvian, Tremere, sits at the top of this pyramid.Below him, the number seven is repeated through the clan’s structure.
Toreador: Bloodline of Vampire. Rain’s Bloodline.
Traditions: Six laws that vampires live by.
Vaulderie: A ritual where Kindred swear loyalty to each other.
A Strange Life 