She was doing okay these days. Boston was nice. She had her nightclub. Luck
had saw to that. She supposed she was just naturally lucky by now. What goes
around comes around and all that stuff was almost believeable these days.
After all, she was still free. She hadn't expected it to be that easy. Just
walking away. She had really expected them to have found her by now. Maybe
they had better things to do. She wasn't proud of what she was. Not one
bit.
It was something she often thought about. She was thinking about it
as she wandered out one evening from her nightclub - her precious
'Eternal Night'. She was jolted back to her surroundings as she was
grabbed roughly. She struggled but they seemed stronger. She was quickly
bound and gagged. the last thing her eyes saw - before a hood went over
her head - was a fairly old looking man... her attacker? She felt
herself carried a short way and then placed in a car. She sensed others
here. She could smell their fear and their blood... In a car. She heard
the engine and felt the motion as the car screeched into action.
"This is it then... they've come for me..." She thought.
The drive seemed short. She was carried again. She didn't know where
although she heard mumbled voices. A lot of noise ensued. locks being
unbolted? Doors opened, she struggled. Something hit her hard...
She came to in a more vertical position, her arms hurt. How long had
she been out? She supposed it had been a night or so. She still couldn't
move. Rattling? yes, chains. No-one was with her. Alone again. They,
whoever, had chained her against a wall... and she still couldn't see. Fear for her unlife trickled over her...
slowly turning to cascading waterfalls and then floods. She could scream
at least... and she did... She heard a door - her door? - opening. She
fell briefly silent. Where? Who? Why? Was this to be it? Had she been
recaptured? There was no doubt in her mind about this.
"Please.. let me see.. take it off.." she begged, shakily.
The old Count removed the young girl's hood. he glanced upon
frightened eyes and realised his butler had made quite a grave mistake...
Even in the poor light of torches she saw him. Old and powerful. His
long cloak.. his eyes.. they had sent him at last. So this would be it. It
was almost what she had expected her Death to look like. Almost. he
turned and left the room.
She slumped, unable to stand any longer. Her arms hurt from struggling
against the chains that held her tight. Her will was spent. She could
only wait.
It was only mere minutes later when he returned clutching a set of
keys - which he used to unlock her chains. She collapsed to the floor,
giving in totally. If they wanted her, then they would have to move her
themself.
He picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the cell. Thoughts
of what they might do to her for running away...how long would she
survive?
Upstaris, they heard the screaming, a twisted, catatonic fear, weaving
its way through the castle, echoing around the walls. The young man was
disturbed immensely by it. He had been sent up with his partner, by his
boss to investigate the disappearance of some local characters. Was this
one of them? What were they doing to her? He ran towards the origin of
the screams. A young woman followed closely, quickly behind..
The Count set her down on the steps - his brow furrowed as the two
young vampires approached. "What the hell?..." the young man uttered.
"My butler made a mistake I believe..." mumbled the Count.
She sat crumpled in a heap on the steps, completely oblivious to
everything around her. The young man knelt in front of her.
"You okay?" Her wide eyes stared straight through him.
Minutes passed, and it came to her attention that maybe she wasn't
being taken anywhere after all. Had these strangers saved her in the nick
of time? Who was the old man and why had he tried to kidnap her?
Her eyes focussed on the image before her. A concerned looking young
man - who? It was some time before she was truely awake of her
surroundings. She recognised one of them at least. The young woman had
been a movie star before she had disappeared some years back. Jane
something... The old man was busy talking to Jane and another young male
vampire. The young man still watched her.
"You alright, Ma'am?"
She was better although still confused.
"I.. think so. What happened?"
"I don't know. I heard screaming so I came running."
She began to remember.
"I was caught outside my nightclub. They brought me here. I don't know
why...". She froze as the old man wandered over.
"I am sorry.. It was a mistake.. please accept my humble apologies..."
He handed her a glittering brooch. She'd never seen anything so expensive
looking.
"Accepted.." Anatole smiled weakly.
The young concerned vampire offered her hand and aided her up. The
fivesome wandered up to a study. Introductions were passed around.
"Anatole. Clan Ventrue," she mumbled, hoping they weren't too
interested in her. No one seemed to notice her aura and she breathed a
sigh of relief.
She discovered the young woman - Jane - was a Toreador. The young men
were working partners - Tremere and Brujah. She was surprised by the fact
that the kind young gentleman was a brujah. He introced himself as
Michael. The Tremere was named Carl. Later she discovered the Count was
old clan Tzimisce. This fact, had she been with anyone when she learned
of it, might have given her away. It was just that one word - Tzimisce.
She dreaded them. Their powers of body alteration scared her more than
anything.
Carl and Michael drove her back to her nightclub shortly after the
Count's apology. She felt a lot better now that she knew she'd been wrong
about what would happen there. They must have decided she wasn't worth
bothering about.
She awoke the next night feeling more like she usually felt. Her
mobile rang into life just minutes later.
"Anatole?"
"Yes?"
"It's me, Michael. I need you to introduce me to the Prince. I haven't
made myself known in the area yet."
"Okay, just come round the club, knock on the side door and I'll meet
you there."
A short time later, they stood outside his - the Ventrue Prince's -
Casino. SHe led him in and ushered him up the stairs. He emerged from the
room mere monents later breathing a sigh of relief. "There's a social
gathering up at the castle tonight. Coming?" he asked before she could
ask how it went. She tried to forget the previous few nights and decided
it was time to pull herself together.
"Okay, I'll come too."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure you're okay. No one will touch you." She
couldn't help liking the Count. She wasn't sure why. After all, she had
thought that he was going to kill her worse. She had to go back and
reassure herself that everything had been a mistake. They drove up in her
car. Carl rang Michael to say that he would drive up later with their car.
The Butler ushered them into the dining room. Jane and the Count were
there already. As they sat down around the large table the Count reached
up with a knife. Her eyes followed his hand as he gave the body hanging
above the table a new smile. Blood poured into a large decorative bowl
that she hadn't noticed on the table. Anatole turned her head in
disgust, but she was hungry. She fled into a corner and watched
silently, watching until they left. At last she would have the remains
of that blood and body to herself. She clambered on the table and
reached for the body...
..It had been good. Nice. She wiped her face haphazardly. She hoped
she'd got it off. It wasn't as if she could check in a mirror or
anything. She wandered up towards the study. That was when she heard the
music. Real music. Someone was playing a church organ. And well too.
Intrigued, she followed the music... to a room not unlike a chapel. The
Count was pounding out old melodies on a an old organ. Dark, foreboding,
sinister music. She loved it. She slid into a seat next to somebody and
listened entranced. A brief moment later she turned her head. She wasn't
sure why. Maybe to see who she was sitting with, and why they were so
quiet. She soon understood why. A corpse! A rotting dead corpse.. Her
mind flashed suddenly with images from her past. Her flesh burning in
the sunlight - burning.. and the corpse in the coffins. She bolted,
horrified from the Chapel - running - she passed Jane on the stairs. She
ran for the car and clambered inside. As the engine roared into life she
span the wheel uncontrollably. The car lurched forwards a short way and
span into a tree.
"Shit!" she thought, "My car!"
As she looked out of the window she noticed the two wolves watching
her. Just watching. Ironically, she noticed their shadows first. Shadows
cast by the glow of the low-hanging full moon. She wondered if she could
make it to the house in time. She climbed out of the car quickly, the
wolves still watching her.
"Come on, then!" she shouted.
The wolves were unnerving her immensely so she punched one as hard she
could. It whimpered as it collapsed to the ground. With just one wolf
left, she ran. Could she make the house in time? She hoped so. It bounded
after her. She stumbled up the hill all the way back to the castle door,
running till she thought she might burst. Suddenly, the door was there.
She slammed the against it, crying out for someone to open it. She
bashed repeatedly with her fists. The grille opened and Jane looked out.
Anatole begged for Jane to open the door. Jane smiled. A smile of spite
and callousness. Eventually, it hurt to bash the door and she gave up,
sliding to the floor. The door creaked open and the Count pulled her in.
Jane smiled at her, "they don't attack the Count's guests." Anatole
picked herself up and aimed a fist at her head.
"Bitch!" she screamed. "Why did you do that?"
Jane swirled round and dodged the fist with a finesse that could have
made an assamite jealous. It wasn't fair. Anatole decided that she would
get even some other time. For now, she had crashed her car, tonight was
turning into a nightmare. How long would that take to get fixed?
Michael and Carl drove her back after that. Back to the nightclub. It
was slightly before dawn when she received another call.
"Anatole?" She recognised Michael's voice.
"What is it?"
"Bad news, something you must know."
"What's happened?"
"The Prince.. he.."
"He's what?" she shouted into the phone.
"He was killed earlier in a bombing at the Casino."
"No..." she whimpered. She hung up. Her car and now the Prince as
well. She fell into a troubled sleep that morning.
The following night Michael came by. She had to go back to the castle
and see the Count again, and to get even with Jane.
Shortly after she arrived, things really began to happen. Bad things.
They - her, Jane and the Count - were watching the TV when the news came
in. A huge riot - down in the town. They showed helicopter pictures.
Masses of bodies clambering into shops and houses. Filling the streets
and destroying everything in their path. Smashing shop windows and
gutting the insides.
It was some time later that she realised they were heading for her
nightclub. Straight for it. Could she get there in time? No.. she could
not. No car. She appealed to the Count to drive her down into the town to
see if her club would be alright. She couldn't let them destroy it. The
Count nodded and they wandered out to his car. A huge black car, with a
chauffeur too.
The riot was approaching fast as they made it to the club. The Count
decided that staying would be a bad idea. The Chauffeur span the car
around and drove back in the opposite direction. Anatole looked out of
the back window to see the first few of the rioters smashing against the
metal doors of her club. Some of them ran into her haven. She was
angered by the car going the wrong way. What about her nightclub? It was
too much to believe that so much could happen to her and so quickly.
She'd lost just about everything and soon there would be nothing left at
all. She slammed against the car door trying to force it open. It
wouldn't move. A vast angry frenzy took her... she let it.. as she
slammed against the door again and again.. just wanting out. As she
smashed the window, the Count's hand connected with the back of her
head. It hurt like hell, but she shrugged it off. How could they do
that? Didn't they appreciate anything? They had no respect. None at all.
She wanted to kill them. All of them.
As the Count raised his arm again the beast fled from her. She
flinched noticeably.
"Please don't hit me again." He growled at her. She'd tried to wreck
his car. She was covered in glass and huge cuts on her arm - which she
cradled towards herself, concentrating on healing her injuries. He sat
beside her, glowering at her. She curled up as small as she could and lay
still, her mind not wanting to deal with it all.
"I've lost everything. Please help me. My Haven is gone."
"You can stay at the castle until its sorted out, "he said coldly...
As the car approached the castle, so too did the riot...
...The Count ran around locking all the doors. So too did his ghouls.
They heard booms all around as the mines went off in the outer regions of
the castle grounds.
"They're coming here!" he shouted. Anatole ran for the safest place
she could find. Back down into the cells. Her mobile chose an inopportune
moment to ring.
"Yes?"
"Anatole, they're coming for the castle. Are you Camarilla or Sabbat?"
"Why?" she asked accusingly.
"Because I need to know."
"Camarilla." She was glad he couldn't see her right now.
"Well, you'd do good to get away from that riot. Get down as far as
you can in the castle."
"Am doing that."
"I mean it, Anatole. A new Prince has been chosen. The sabbat have
taken over."
"Oh god..."
She hung up and ran for all she was worth. They were coming for her.
And they'd probably destroy the Count's castle doing it. It wasn't long
before she came to the end of her travels. She could go no further. A
huge inscribed bronze door lay locked in her path. Here was where she
would have to stop running. It wasn't long before she heard footsteps
coming down the steps to the room she was in. She focussed on thoughts
of darkness and the room became night-dark in mere seconds. It was one
power she was glad she had. The footsteps approached. She lay as still
as she could. A foot kicked her painfully. She screamed, sure that this
was it. Something flashed in the air and she rolled across the floor
dropping her thoughts of night. Light flared into the room and she
recognised the face of the Count. She got up quickly as he opened the
bronze door. More footsteps. A huge mass of twisted flesh, veins and
bones rolled around the corner and ogled them with its many eyes.
Anatole stared, frozen, in terror. The Count pulled her through the
door. As he slammed the door shut a tentacle slid trough, attached
itself to Anatole's wrist and began drinking. She screamed and slammed
it against the wall. It let go and writhed on the floor. She stamped on
it repeatedly.
The Count figured that running would be impossible. They would just
follow behind until they caught them. Anatole backed away from the door,
watching in horror as the flesh-vein monster-thing thudded against it
repeatedly...
It broke though. She hid behind the Count. Two men entered the cavern,
one either side of the monster. One was dressed in a suit, the other in
leathers. Both were smiling. A smile like the one Jane had had last night
when Anatole was running from the wolves.
"Oh no... Ruthven," she muttered as she recognised the leather dressed
Tzimisce.
The Count looked straight at the Tzimisce and ordered him to leave.
Ruthven grabbed his 'friend' and ordered him to stay.
"You," Ruthven stated, pointing at the Count, "are moving back home."
"Was it really necessary to destroy my castle?"
"This is not the issue. You are leaving."
The Count walked out of the door. Anatole followed closely behind, very
closely.
"Just a minute." A hand grabbed her by the shoulder. "Where do you
think you're going? You can't get away that easily."
"I just want to go."
"Oh no, we have things planned for you. You are coming back with us.
To New York. I bet the inquisition will want to have words with you. They
you may.. if you're lucky... be taken to Mexico.
"No..," she pleaded as she was marched off by the two Tzimisce. Her
pleas fell on deaf ears. She had been recaptured and now there really was
no way that she'd be leaving them again. Ruthven, after all, being her
pack leader...
What happened to the characters?
Andreas, the Count - returned to his original home, and given a new job
with the sabbat.
Anatole, now Alexandra, Lasombra - returned to New York, tortured for
information on the Camarilla and then returned to her pack in Mexico.
Jane, Toreador - missing, presumed returned to England.
Carl Weiss, Tremere - missing, presumed killed by a Tzimisce warghoul.
Michael, Brujah (Real name Martin) - whereabouts unknown. It is thought
that he may have fled to New Hampshire.