Hidden Realms

Meeting the Prince

wiseheart — Thu, 01 Feb 2024 19:10:06 GMT

Meeting the Prince
by Soledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" stand-alone story.
A Charmed/Kindred: The Embraced crossover

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the story idea. No copyright infringement attempted and no money made.

Rating: Teens for this particular chapter.

Author's note: This story was usually planned to be a chapter of "Charmed into Darkness" - a rather long and complicated crossover AU over which I've been procrastinating since 2007. I kid you not! However, in the meantime the whole concept has been changed fundamentally, so that this part, in its current form, wouldn't fit the rest. Since I quite like it, though, I decided to post it as an independent little ficlet. Enjoy!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As usual, Daedalus was the first to discover the stranger. Cash might have been responsible for security matters, being the Prince’s chief bodyguard, but he was still too young and literal-minded to recognize any threats more subtle than a band of enraged Brujah with phosphorous guns. And while he was faithful like a dog, unfortunately, he wasn’t the brightest candle in the church, either.

The Nosferatu Primogen, on the other hand, had both age and experience. He also had perhaps the keenest sense for the supernatural, be it fellow Kindred or any other non-human creatures. Those three at the lonely little table in the corner were definitely of the Kindred sort – yet what kind of vampires exactly, not even Daedalus could determine by mere sight.

“My Prince,” he murmured quietly, indicating with his bald head the direction.

Julian Luna had known Daedalus long enough to understand the warning. He followed the Nosferatu’s glance and spotted the unlikely group immediately. He recognised the man of indeterminable age, vaguely oriental looks and very pale skin as a Master, although the man was clad just as elegantly – and expensively – as himself.

The youngling in his early twenties, wearing a conservative pin-striped, three-piece suit and a black tie was obviously British – so British that it almost hurt to look at. He had to be a slave or a thrall, by the completely devoted looks he gave the Master and his deferential manners towards the older man.

The third in the group was a young woman with lush dark hair and liquid dark eyes, her skin so white as if she’d been powdered from head to toe. She wore a form-fitting black dress that left nothing to the imagination… absolutely nothing. Her dark red lips almost looked like a bleeding wound in her pale face. The black velvet collar set with tiny rubies clearly revealed her slave status, although the boy’s was still something of a mystery.

“I presume he has not yet contacted you to present himself, my Prince,” the Nosferatu murmured, and Julian shook his head.

“I’ll speak to him now,” he decided. “Cash...”

“No, my Prince,” Daedalus stopped him respectfully but with an urgent warning in his voice. “I don’t think that the Gangrel’s youthful brashness would serve you well in this situation. Allow me to ask the man over personally.”

Julian nodded, knowing that the Nosferatu wouldn’t insist on this without reason. Without a very good reason.

“All right,” he said. “Do it now.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Nahir looked up at the tall, bald man clad in an old-fashioned black frock approaching their table with interest. The elongated earlobes revealed the stranger as a Nosferatu, and Nahir could feel age and power in him. Also, he’d been with the Prince, until a few moments ago. Daedalus, then, Nahir decided, having studied the files of San Francisco’s most prominent Kindred well in advance. The Nosferatu Primogen. A scholar and a nameworthy alchemist. In other words: a force to be reckoned with.

The Lasombra decided to be very polite, unless provoked beyond endurance. He needed to stay on the Prince’s good side, if he wanted to take up residence in the city, after all, and currently his long-term goals demanded that he remained in San Francisco.

“Can I help you?” he asked the Nosferatu with his most educated British accent. He could feel Roderick’s mental laughter, as he usually didn’t speak that way, and no matter what, his accent remained just a tad artificial.

“The Prince would like to speak with you,” the Nosferatu replied, his stony face revealing nothing.

Nahir nodded. “Yes, I can imagine that he would.”

“He’d like you to come to his table,” the Nosferatu continued, not losing his formal manners for a second, although he probably knew Nahir was provoking him ever so slightly.

“Would he now?” Nahir asked mildly. “Well, in that case I guess I ought to follow the invitation. Tell him I shall be there shortly. I have to give my… associates some basic instructions. They are new to places like this.”

For a moment, there was cold fury in the dark eyes of the Nosferatu at such shinding of the Prince’s authority; but only for a moment. Then he accepted graciously and after a stiff bow, he left.

“Now you have met the oldest and probably most dangerous Kindred in this city, at least within the Camarilla,” Nahir commented to his thralls. “Be careful around him... and be very, very polite. Nosferatu are unpredictable by their very nature, and Daedalus is also the Prince’s Enforcer… not to mention old and powerful on his own right. Few Kindred can say about themselves in these lesser days that they’ve seen the Inquisition and lived to tell the tale.”

“He’s still nothing compared with you, Master,” Roderick said dismissively. In his opinion, nobody could compare themselves with his Master.

Nahir accepted this declaration of blatant hero worship as his due. It was true, after all. But he wanted Roderick to be less… vocal about it.

“That might be so,” he said, dropping the posh accent almost completely (having lived in England for so long had coloured his speech to a certain extent; it wasn’t all just pretence). “But he doesn’t know it, and I prefer to leave him and the young Prince in the dark for a little longer… if I can. Daedalus is no fool. It can happen that I’ll be forced to show more of my cards than I’ve originally planned to.”

“Wouldn’t that be dangerous for your plans, Master?” Roderick, who was privy to those plans (while the girl was not) asked in concern.

“It might cause slight… complications,” Nahir admitted, “and yet it might be inevitable.” He rose. “Stay firmly put, you two. Don’t let anyone provoke you. If I have to come to your rescue, the Prince and his courtiers might find out more about me than it would be good for my continued existence.”

With that warning, which frightened them both a little – especially Roderick who knew a great deal about his Master’s true nature – he left them behind to meet the Prince of the City.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Julian Luna watched the slender, elegant man approaching his table with growing suspicion. There could be no doubt about the stranger being a vampire – and, considering the power he radiated, an old and strong one – but he couldn’t define the Clan to which to order him… and neither could Daedalus, which was a first. Only truly ancient Kindred could veil their Clan identity from the Nosferatu.

The strange contrast between the unusually pale skin and the sharp, vaguely middle-Eastern features also indicated extremely high age. It took centuries, if not millennia, for an originally dark-skinned vampire to bleach out that much due to the lack of sunlight.

The Prince knew of no Kindred who’d be potentially that old having been reported in the San Francisco area for a very long time. Daedalus had said the stranger had a prominent British accent, so he might have been a newcomer – or the accent fake. Each possibility offered several reasons for his presence here; none of them very promising.

The man being a Sabbat infiltrator was the most logical possibility. A disappointed Clan Elder turned Anarch for not having gotten the expected position was another one. Or, if truly that ancient, he could be an Inconnu, sent to monitor San Francisco.

Daedalus had said that the boy was a ghoul – and not a freshly made one, according to his behaviour – and Blood Bound to his Master. The girl was apparently a slave, but probably a newly accepted one, as she seemed still a bit uncertain in her role… and she was definitely a mortal. A blood doll, perhaps, or a future ghoul? Whatever the two young associates might be, the Prince was becoming increasingly suspicious about their Master’s intentions.

Said master was now standing right at the Prince’s table, an enigmatic smile on his handsome face, and he sketched an old-fashioned – and slightly ironic – bow in his direction.

“You wanted to speak me, Mr Luna?” he asked with that supremely educated accent of his. His manner was polite, but the addressing of the Prince unorthodox at best, according to Kindred protocol. It could also have been considered as a refusal of the Prince’s authority.

Julian Luna nodded. “I see you know who I am,” he replied, willing to tolerate the slight violation of protocol – for now. “That gives you an unfair advantage.”

“I always research the Prince whose city I’m about to enter,” the other man replied. “I’m Rudolph Martin, by the way, professor for Ancient History at Berkeley’s for the next four years.”

“You are more than just that,” Daedalus said quietly. “Much more.”

The man inclined his head in agreement. “That might be true, Primogen Daedalus. But that’s what I’ve been for a long time, at Broadhurst College in London before coming here, and at other schools before that. It’s all in my professional file. I’m sure you have the right people to have it all checked.”

“I very much doubt that your file would go back longer than a mortal lifetime,” the Prince said. “And you’re certainly much older than that.”

The man grinned. “I stopped counting after the thirteenth millennium,” he said.

The other two stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

“You must be of Ancient Blood, then,” Daedalus finally murmured.

“Powerful Blood, actually,” the stranger replied, “although any more ancient hardly goes in these days, save for those who are still hiding.”

“Small wonder we weren’t able to recognise the Clan characteristics!” Daedalus said to the Prince. “Anyone that ancient can easily camouflage them.” Then he turned back to the newcomer. “I’d like to know what Clan you’re from, nonetheless.”

The stranger shrugged. “The brotherhood I used to belong to stood above petty Clan squabbling. We even used to live in peace with the Kine – until the Ventrue and the Toreador decided to massacre us and tear down our city.”

Daedalus’ mind was awhirl. It took him a few moments to make the necessary connections – and blanched.

“You are from Ancient Carthage,” he said tonelessly.

The stranger nodded. “I was born in Ancient Mesopotamia, actually, in the city of Uruk, and was among the handful of survivors after the Great Flood,” he said. “My Sire, whose name I never learned, found me, wounded and dying, among the ruins of my city; I used to be one of the low-ranking priests who guarded the temple gates. After I’d learned the ways of my new family, my Sire left me behind. I never saw her again. I roamed the East and fought in many wars for millennia; met wise men and women, learned a lot before I met Aurelius and followed him to Carthage.”

“You belonged to his Order before it turned evil?” Daedalus asked in awe.

“I helped with the foundation of the Order,” the stranger said, “and was their senior scholar till the destruction of Carthage. I am the only Kindred left who has read – and copied – the Book of Nod in its entirety,”

Julian Luna was getting confused by all this scholarly stuff – he wasn’t an historian, nor particularly interested in history – but Daedalus nodded in recognition.

“You must be Nahir then,” he said. “I had no idea you were still alive.”

“Few know,” the ancient Kindred replied, “and I’d prefer it to stay that way.”

“Why?” the Prince asked. “Your age and power would earn you great respect, especially among the Brujah. You could easily rise to Princedom in any city with a strong Brujah or Malkavian presence.”

“That is not my ambition,” the ancient one replied. “And it would be too perilous for me anyway.”

“He’s a Lasombra antitribu, my Prince,” Daedalus explained. “One of the few of that Clan who ever refused to join the Sabbat. They consider him a traitor, especially those from his Order, who have become one of the worst Sabbat packs after the fall of Ancient Carthage.”

“And whose fault is it that they turned evil?” Nahir asked, with a dangerous glint in his dark eyes. “Who massacred Aurelius and his priests, who never wanted anything but peace? Is it surprising that they turned against everything a Ventrue-dominated Camarilla would represent?”

“But you didn’t follow their dark path,” Daedalus said.

“No,” Nahir sighed. “Their choice, albeit understandable, all things considered, was a betrayal to Aurelius’ ideals to which I was sworn. I’ve tried to bring the Order back to its original purpose, but until recently, I was doomed to fail.”

“And now?” the Prince asked.

“Now that Angelus has been reformed and elected as the Prince of Los Angeles by the Camarilla and the most important Anarch forces alike, we have hope again,” Nahir said. “Which is why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Julian replied. “Care to elaborate?”

Nahir nodded. “Once again, we’re about to face a great confrontation, compared with which the minor apocalypses of recent time would seem like child’s play. The destruction of the Legacy House of San Francisco was only the beginning. The evil dwelling beneath its Hellgate is only contained, not truly beaten. The other such endangered spot is the Hellmouth in Sunnydale, but Angelus has that under control.”

“How?” Daedalus asked. “He’s in Los Angeles, isn’t he?”

“Yes, but he’s… associated to the new Legacy House in Sunnydale,” Nahir explained. “The Precept of that House used to be the Watcher of the current Slayer and can deal with all sorts of evil coming his way.”

“Legacy Hunters working with Kindred?” Daedalus asked doubtfully. “That hasn’t happened in the last three thousand years. They’ve always hunted us, especially after the fall of the New York House.”

“That House has fallen to the Sabbat,” Nahir said. “The Precepts of the Los Angeles and Sunnydale Houses have learned the difference.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you are here,” Julian said.

“I’m here to build up my household,” Nahir answered. “In order to face the upcoming apocalypse, we need the Wild Power only witches possess – the only kind of magic that can survive the Embrace. There are such witches in your city: three sisters, called the Charmed Ones.”

At Julian’s questioning look Daedalus nodded.

“I know about them,” he said. “The Halliwell sisters are the youngest generation of a long line of white witches. They’re stronger than any of their ancestors, as they possess the Power of Three – their powers multiplicate when they use them in tandem. However,” he added, looking at Nahir, “there’s no guarantee that they’ll keep their full strength after the Embrace.”

“They’ll probably lose some of their more spectacular abilities, like freezing time,” Nahir agreed, “but their mental powers would grow tenfold due to the arcane crafts of the Lasombra, and that is which is needed against the Old Ones. Actually,” he added, glancing at his slave girl, “there are four of them, not three. But the powers of the fourth one will only awaken if the others die – at least one of them – so I’ll have to Embrace them to unleash their full capacity.”

“There are rumours that the youngest one is dallying with a demon,” Daedalus warned.

Nahir nodded. “I know. We’ll have to get rid of Belthazor if we want to keep her. Fortunately, in that I’ll have the support of her sisters. They want him gone every bit as much as we do.”

“Do they know who – or what – you are?” Julian asked.

“Only the firstborn,” Nahir replied. “She’s the most intelligent of them; I wouldn’t be able to fool her in the long run anyway. And she’s very protective of her sisters… I couldn’t approach them against her influence. We agreed to allow the middle one to discover the truth for herself, step by step. She’s a remarkably balanced person; she’ll be able to deal with the truth. The youngest one will be a definite challenge, as we’ll have to free her from her demon spawn first.”

“She’s pregnant with Belthazor’s spawn?” Daedalus asked in shock.

Nahir nodded grimly. “Oh, yes. Belthazor is half human… Caine knows what kind of monster the two have spawned. I’d prevent it from being born, if possible, and the older sisters are in full agreement. It won’t be easy, though. The little witch is completely in Belthazor’s thrall.”

“If you need a safe dungeon to contain her, you can use our Prison of Light,” Julian offered, but Nahir shook his head.

“That will not keep the demon in… or its father out. I’ve had a strong cell built under my house, and the older sisters are already working on the necessary spells to neutralise Belthazor – if they succeed in turning him fully human, we can either kill him or Embrace him. The latter would mean great advantages, as he would most likely keep his extensive knowledge about the Dark Side, but also a great risk.”

“He’d be naturally drawn to the Sabbat,” Daedalus said.

Nahir nodded. “And that’s why I can’t Embrace him. As a Lasombra, he’d soon become uncontrollable. He’d make good Ventrue material, though,” he added, “or a powerful Nosferatu.”

“If he’s to become a Ventrue, I’d have to Blood Bond him,” Julian said. “As a Nosferatu, though, he won’t really have any chance with the little witch, and that’s definitely preferable.”

“All of this is a moot point, of course, unless the sisters manage to destroy his demon half,” Nahir added. “If they fail, we’ll have a nasty fight at our hands, one that we might not survive. Fire is Belthazor’s natural weapon, and our kind is notoriously vulnerable to fire.”

“Are you planning to remain in my city afterwards?” Julian asked.

Nahir thought about that for a moment, and then he nodded.

“Yes. It’s a bit too sunny for my taste, but we need to guard the Hellgate, at least until the Legacy House is rebuilt. I have no definite plans for the time after that.”

“Very well,” Julian said. “You’re welcome to dwell in my city. We need to keep your true identity hidden, though, if you want to succeed.”

“I agree,” Nahir said. “I’ve been successfully masquerading as a Ventrue or a Tremere for a very long time. As your city has no Tremere presence, I think that will work well enough as a disguise again.”

Charmed into Darkness 03 - The Enemy of My Enemy

wiseheart — Thu, 25 Jan 2024 15:52:43 GMT

Charmed into Darkness
by Soledad

Disclaimer: see Introduction.
Rating: T for this part. Canon-typical violence.

Author’s note: Some lines of dialogue have been taken from the 3rd Season “Charmed” episode “The Demon who Came in from the Cold”, for obvious reasons. This is a very AU version of that episode, after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 3 – The Enemy of My Enemy

Frank Kohanek wasn’t happy to learn that he and Sonny were supposed to secure the location of the final merger talks between Luxirom and MetaSatellite.

“We’re supposed to be homicide cops,” he groused. “Why can’t Kwan send somebody from White Collar Crimes?”

“The merger talks have come to a particularly sensitive point,” Sonny replied. “There’s a very good chance that things would escalate into violence. The CEO of Luxirom is missing, and we suspect that he’s been replaced by a doppelganger to make the merger happen.”

“We?” Frank echoed in suspicion.

Sonny nodded. “Julian will have to make an appearance to prevent the merger from happening.”

“So, you guys have an interest in Luxirom?” Frank asked. He had long since learned – and, after the first shock, accepted – that his partner was not only a vampire but also the progeny of the Prince of the City… and the Ventrue Primogen.

“In the bank behind Luxirom,” Sonny corrected.

“And who’s behind MetaSatellite?” Frank asked. “The Brujah?”

It would have been just like Cameron to intrude into Ventrue business in a legal way. The guy might have been Rabble, but he was also clever – and ruthless.

Sonny shook his head. “Worse. Julian can control the Brujah.”

“Who then?”

“Let’s just say that we wouldn’t want them to control the flow of information from the entire United States and leave it there,” Sonny tried to evade but, as usual, Frank wouldn’t leave it there.

“No, man. If I have to put my life at risk – and I would have, if Luna needs protection – I need to know what I’m gonna face.”

“The Sabbat,” Sonny revealed, too worried to fight with Frank about details. “We might have an infiltration, and we need to stop it while we still can. Happy now?”

Frank knew, of course, who (or rather what) the Sabbat were. No-one could be closely associated to Kindred and not know it. Therefore he definitely wasn’t happy about the news.

“And Julian risks showing his face openly while there might be Sabbat present?”

“He must,” Sonny sighed. “He’s the only one with sufficient authority to override the fake Pirelli and prevent the merger from happening. And it must not happen.”

“If you ask me, it smells of a trap,” Frank said, and Sonny nodded.

“It most likely is a trap. Which is why Julian hasn’t allowed the TV to be present. The San Francisco Times got exclusive rights to report the outcome, and the others will have to be content with that.”

“Because Julian owns the San Francisco Times,” Frank grinned mirthlessly.

Which was the truth. Even after the departure of his mortal lover (the beautiful and courageous Caitlyn Byrne, who had been made to forget certain… details about their affair), the Prince kept ownership of the popular newspaper. Information was power, after all.

“Exactly,” Sonny said. “We can’t risk breaking the Masquerade, and with the Sabbat present, there’s no way to tell what might happen.”

“Does that mean phosphorous guns are out of the game?” Frank asked unhappily.

“On the contrary,” Sonny replied. “Since they work against the Sabbat as well as against us, we can’t afford not to bring them.”

“Which is why Julian asked for us to secure the place,” Frank realized. No other mortal detective at the SFDP knew about vampires and how to kill them efficiently. “To protect both the Masquerade and the clueless mortals.”

“I knew you’ll learn to think like one of us eventually,” Sonny said. “Let’s go.”

“No need to be rude,” Frank muttered but followed him nonetheless.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ian Cameron wasn’t happy with his assignment, either. He’d have preferred to be present at the showdown of the merger talks; he’d have loved to find out who was behind the takeover of MetaSatellite (and then quietly but quickly eliminate them later). Instead, he had to keep watch over the witch convent where Pirelli was presumably hiding.

To add insult to injury, he wasn’t even allowed to interfere. Just to watch. The mere fact had him seething. As much as he was a surprisingly moderate Brujah (he liked to think of himself as ‘civilized’), with an almost Ventrue mannerism, he still had the anger, the strength and the Clan-typical hang to violence. Inactivity just didn’t suit him.

Standing next to him, his Childe, Nicky – only recently released from fledgling status – was eyeing the brightly painted manor house with interest.

“What an odd place,” he commented. “It must be pretty old, I guess.”

Nicky had grown up in the lived-down suburbs of Chicago. Buildings like the Halliwell Manor seemed more like film sets in his eyes than places where people would actually live.

“Quite old,” Cameron agreed. “This isn’t the original building, though. That one was destroyed in the great earthquake, back in 1906. Some ancestor of the witches had it rebuilt after the quake and moved in. The manor had since been in the family for four generations,” he paused for a moment, giving the house a critical look. “I’ve seen pictures of the original one, built in 1896. It was said to be a masterpiece of the Westlake Victorian style. The current one, pretty though it might be, can’t even come close.”

“Wow!” Nicky seemed suitably impressed. “You know a lot about that. How come?”

“It is called research, Nicky,” Cameron replied dryly. “That’s what the Internet is there for. You should give it a try, too. It can be useful.”

He wasn’t about to tell his Childe of his childhood dream of studying architecture. That ship had sailed fifteen years ago and played no role in his unlife now.

“But how did you come to all the details,” Nicky, who wasn’t big on education (no surprise, given his past) insisted.

“From schrecknet.com,” Cameron answered. “Julian isn’t the only one the Nosferatu provide with information… for the right price.”

Before Nicky could have commented on that, a black SUV with tinted glasses pulled up in front of the house.

“Sire,” he said quietly, “we’ve got company.”

Four men got out of the car without making any attempt to cover their presence. Cameron recognized the tallest one as ADA Cole Turner; who, according to Daedalus, was supposedly a half-demon as well. He still wasn’t sure that such creatures could exist, but he wasn’t a Nosferatu, either.

The other three appeared to be mere muscle; and probably hired muscle, too. Even in a tightly controlled city like San Francisco, there were enough clanless Anarch who’d do the dirty work for anyone who was willing to pay them. In any case, they didn’t appear to be old, powerful Sabbat. They could also be fledglings, of course. The Sabbat didn’t protect their neonates the way Camarilla Kindred did.

Cameron tried to listen in to their conversation. Mere mortals wouldn’t have heard a thing from this distance, but enhanced Kindred hearing came in handy in situations like this.

“You distract the witches,” Turner (or Belthazor) was saying. “I’ll get Pirelli. I know the house well and have an idea where they might be hiding him.”

“What now?” Nicky asked. “Shall I go after the thugs while you follow the big baddie?”

Cameron nodded. “That would be the best. You’re still very young in Kindred terms; haven’t developed any special powers that would alert the witches. I’ll find out where Turner’s taking Pirelli. Afterwards we’ll meet at The Haven and compare notes.”

They separated, Nicky sneaking after the thugs who headed directly at the front door of the manor; the door that led to a foyer and the living room behind that. Under different circumstances that would have been a stupid strategy, but right now the fledges merely served as a distraction. They were meant to be spotted, to keep the witches occupied while Turner (or rather Belthazor) would spirit Pirelli away.

If they got killed in the process, that would be considered collateral damage. They were expendable, after all.

Turner, on the other hand, seemed to know his way around the house indeed. He entered through a side door, getting right into a large, brightly-coloured room that, as Cameron realized by peeking through the window, was the kitchen, with two doors leading to other rooms and a third one into the basement.

It was the basement where Turner was heading, and Cameron reluctantly withdrew. A closed subterranean room wasn’t the place where he could afford to challenge a demon (all right, half-demon) whose natural weapon was fire – the only thing that could kill every vampire, regardless of age, generation or personal powers. So he decided to wait and observe for the time being.

He didn’t know what to expect from a demonic assassin that had been terrorizing the (under)world for at least a century, but on a subconscious level he had expected it to be something spectacular. Therefore he felt, well, cheated when Turner reappeared only a few minutes later, with an unresponsive human body (Pirelli?) slung over his shoulder. It was so… mundane, something any hired street thug could have done. And the Sabbat needed a demon (all right, half-demon) for that?

It was pathetic, really.

However, he didn’t have the time to roll his eyes over the obvious incompetence of the Sabbat, as Turner was already heading for the SUV. Cameron made a rapid strategic retreat towards his own car (Nicky had come by motorbike, so there was no need to wait for him), when the front windows of the house became blindingly illuminated, as if an explosion of some sort had happened within. In the next moment he aw Nicky fleeing towards his bike, clearly unharmed, which was a relief. But what in Caine’s name had happened in the house?

Unsurprisingly, Turner didn’t seem to care about the possible fate of the fledges. Perhaps he had even counted on them being destroyed, which raised the question whether he was truly working for the Sabbat or followed his own agenda – not that that would have been reassuring, either. At least with the Sabbat one could make an educated guess what to expect; assuming that one was Kindred, too, that is.

In any case, Turner didn’t lose any time. In fact, he did seem to be in a great hurry. After a backward glance, he hurried to the SUV, stored his captive in the booth and drove away. Cameron had barely enough time to jump into his own car and hang onto his heels.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the same time the representatives of both big Internet providers were gathering at Luxirom’s headquarters to finalize the merger talks. The press was also present, together with the reporters and cameras of various news channels, who were understandably pissed off that they weren’t allowed direct access to the conference room. Some of them started making noise about freedom of speech and the public’s right to be informed, but security remained unimpressed by their outrage.

“The San Francisco Times has secured exclusive rights for the story,” one of them pointed out, “so the public will be informed. The rest of you can read everything about the outcome in tomorrow’s edition.”

That didn’t make the press any happier, of course, but there was nothing they could do about it; especially as security was supported by the presence of SFPD detectives – and armed ones at that. So they remained in front of the Luxirom building, not-so-secretly fuming among themselves.

Meanwhile the gathering in the conference room was complete. Only Pirelli was still missing. Frank eyed the MetaSatellite guys with wary interest, trying to guess if there were any actual vampires among them or if they were all clueless idiots, serving Sabbat interests without knowing it.

“They don’t know,” Sonny said in a low voice, knowing Frank well enough to figure out what he was thinking. “The Sabbat rarely deign to let their cattle into their plans. They’ve infiltrated the bank behind MetaSatellite; that’s all they need.”

“And you know that for sure?”

“As sure as one can be. They’ve forced Cameron out of position at the bank; and that’s no small feat. I do hate Cameron, but he’s crafty and ruthless.”

“And he’s with us in this because he wants his position back,” Frank realized.

Sonny nodded. “Of course. No-one wants the Sabbat moving into their territory; not even the Rabble. Which is why you might spot some familiar faces among security,” he nodded discreetly towards the back entrance of the room, where a huge man in a drab black suit was standing. Frank’s experienced eyes could make out the outlines of a phosphorous gun under the jacket.

“Isn’t that one of Eddie Fiori’s former bodyguards?” he asked.

“He is,” Sonny said. “Unlike a few others, he’s arranged himself with Cameron and is now the chief honcho among the Brujah. Few can get by him, which is the reason why Julian borrowed him for today.”

“As long as he knows at whom he ought to aim that gun…” Frank muttered.

“Oh, he knows all right. Cameron sees to that. As I said, the man is not stupid. He knows his position as Primogen is still somewhat uncertain, so he won’t challenge Julian… not yet.”

Their conversation was interrupted, as Pirelli arrived at last, looking somewhat harried. Or, at least, somebody who looked exactly like Pirelli; the illusion was perfect.

“How does he do it?” Frank wondered. “I know you guys can turn into wolves or birds of prey, but to mimic an actual human so perfectly…”

“I assume he must be of Clan Tzimisce,” Sonny murmured. “They can take on the shape of humans; although it actually needs a great deal of effort and is said to be a painful process. This one can change shape on a whim. Either he gained the ability by unspeakably foul methods, or it is a natural talent. In either case, it is not good.”

Meanwhile the fake Pirelli reached the dais set for the representatives, and the reporter of the San Francisco Times didn’t waste a moment to question him.

“Mr. Pirelli, is it true that you are now supporting this merger? And that there was an attempt to assassinate you in this very morning?”

“It is no coincidence that just last night I changed my mind and decided to support the merger,” the Sabbat acting as Pirelli replied. “Now somebody is trying to kill me. That convinces me that I’ve made the right decision. This merger will happen.”

“No, I’m afraid it won’t,” a calm, somewhat rough voice interrupted the interview and Julian Luna walked in through the back door, accompanied by his bodyguard, the Gangrel Primogen. “I don’t find his merger a good idea, and therefore I won’t allow it.”

“That’s not your decision,” the fake Pirelli snarled; the people from MetaSatellite appeared royally pissed, too. “I am the CEO of Luxirom…”

“And I represent the Bank of Lyon in this case,” Julian replied calmly. “The bank that happens to sponsor Luxirom; and can just as easily shut it down as we’ve built it up. If I were you, Mr. Pirelli, I’d start backing off. Now.”

“Or what?” the Sabbat snarled. Frank noticed with a certain agitation that his eyes started glowing red.

“Or you’ve been the CEO of Luxirom for the longest time,” Julian replied simply. Then he turned to the rest of the gathering. “Ladies and gentlemen, I regret that you’ve come here in vain, but as I said, this merger will not happen. Thank you.”

And with that, he left the same way he had come. For a moment the fake Pirelli seemed to be in absolute rage; it wasn’t a pleasant sight. Then he collected himself somehow.

“Well, it seems I’ve been outvoted… for now,” he said. But I promise you, this is far from being over,” and he, too, stormed out of the conference room – only through the front door.

At a barely visible sign from Sonny, several security guards – all Kindred – hurried after him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At first Cameron was surprised that Turner (or Belthazor) would drive with his captive to a cemetery. That would have been a logical choice for a vampire, but Turner was a demon. Half-demon. Whatever. Why would he want to hide Pirelli there? There had to be easier, more secure hideouts, especially if one was associated to the Sabbat.

Of course, it was possible that mausoleums were frequently used by demons as a lair or hideout because they were harder to track on cemetery ground. The San Francisco Kindred had nigh to nothing to do with demons, so their knowledge about them was limited at best – save for the Nosferatu perhaps.

When they arrived to the mausoleum Turner had been heading for, though, and Cameron could read the inscription, it became clear. The inscription said: Benjamin Coleridge Turner +1888. A family crypt, then; and given that Turner had been born in 1885, the man buried here must have been his father. His human father, whom he had lost at a tender age.

Clearly, not even half-demons were completely free of sentimentality.

Turner went into the mausoleum, carrying Pirelli, who appeared to be deeply asleep or unconscious – over his shoulder. Ten or so minutes later he reappeared, empty-handed, heading for his car again, ready to leave. That left Cameron with two conflicting opportunities. He could follow Turner and find out where he was heading; or he could go into the mausoleum, get Pirelli and take him to the only place where he’d be really safe: to the Luna Mansion.

In the end he decided that saving Pirelli was the more important task. Luna would need the man to clean up the mess caused by the doppelganger. Thus he called Nicky, sent him back to the Halliwell Manor, in case Turner showed up there, and then walked into the mausoleum, pretending to be a casual visitor, in search for Pirelli.

At first sight the mausoleum appeared empty. But Cameron’s heightened Kindred senses made possible for him to pick up the man’s heartbeat; it was a bit slow but steady. The man was definitely alive. Cameron sniffed the air but could smell no blood; none that would have been recently spilled at least. He concentrated on the heartbeat, and it only took him a few minutes to find the man who seemed to be still sleeping. How was that possible? How could he have slept through his second kidnapping? Unless the witches had given him some sleeping potion or put some mojo on him, to keep him down.

Well, whatever the case might have been, it made his job a lot easier. He scoped up Pirelli in his arms, carried him to his car, arranged him on the passenger’s seat and secured the seatbelt. With any luck he would be able to take the man to the Prince without anyone being the wiser.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Conclave that met in the Luna Mansion that evening wasn’t a complete one. Daedalus was still at large, trying to find the hideout of the Sabbat with the help of his fellow Nosferatu, and Lillie, too, was absent for reasons no-one knew. Sonny was there, though, and – irregular as it might be – he had brought Frank with him. Several Gangrel guards – the ones who had followed the fake Pirelli in the morning – were also present, and Nicky arrived just minutes before Cameron himself.

Alas, he had no useful news.

“Turner did not return to the witches,” he reported.

“But he did meet with the Sabbat who have originally kidnapped Pirelli,” one of the Gangrel said.

“Where?” Julian asked sharply.

The Gangrel shrugged. “In some warehouse belonging to MetaSatellite. We followed the fake Pirelli there; the people he met were the same ones as on the vid Cameron’s men took with their body cam: a beautiful woman and a bearded young man in a suit. And Turner, of course.”

“Could that be the Sabbat hideout?” Frank asked, but Sonny shook his head.

“Unlikely. It wouldn’t be safe enough. It was probably just a meeting place,” he turned to the Gangrel. “Is the guy still looking like Pirelli?”

“No,” the Gangrel replied. “He transformed back as soon as he arrived. He was royally pissed at Turner because of the loss of the three thugs the witches apparently offed… how did they do that, by the way?”

Everyone looked at Nicky, the only eyewitness of the event, and he grinned, happy to be able to provide some news at last.

“It was impressive,” he admitted. “One of them threw something like an energy ball, but one of the witches – the one with the black hair – deflected it back to him, and he went up in flames.”

“She deflected an energy ball?” Julian echoed in awe. “With what?”

“She just raised her hands and the thing stopped in mid-air; then turned back and hit the Sabbat in the chest,” Nicky explained. “The two others continued the attack, but the other witch, the long-haired one, froze them, and then she and the first one finished them off by throwing some kind of liquid at them that made them combust spontaneously. It was quite the firework,” he added, “I’m surprised the house didn’t burn down.”

“The sisters probably know how to control their own powers,” Sonny said; then he turned back to the Gangrel. “So, the fake Pirelli was mad at Turner. Could you get close enough to her what they were talking about?”

The Gangrel nodded. “Wearing bird form can come in handy in such cases. The fake Pirelli – the others called him Vornac, by the way – suspected a tip-off by Turner. Klea, that’s the name of their woman, assumed that Turner had been speaking in code to one of the witches. Apparently, she’d been spying on them. Turner answered them he had Pirelli but wouldn’t reveal where he had him, so Vornac got ready to head for the final merger vote. Turner did warn him, though, that the witches might try to eliminate him.”

“I doubt he was much worried about that,” Julian said dryly. “The Sabbat are notoriously arrogant; and if he’s indeed a Tzimisce, he has good reason to be confident.”

“No, he didn’t seem worried one bit,” the Gangrel agreed. “He just asked if the witches would be willing to eliminate Turner.”

“Hardly,” Sonny commented with a snort, “seeing that he’s still having a torrid affair with the youngest one.”

“Exactly what this Vornac guy was counting on,” the Gangrel said. “Because when he left the warehouse he was already looking like Turner.”

“Where did he go?” Julian asked.

“Back to the Luxirom HQ,” the Gangrel replied. “Where the witches cornered him in the board room and blew him up.”

“They realized he was an impostor?” Sonny asked, impressed. “That’s no small feat!”

The Gangrel shrugged. “Apparently, he said something the real Turner wouldn’t. In any case, one of the Sabbat is out of the game for good.”

“Which is fortunate, but there are still at least two of them out there; and who knows what kind of game Turner is playing,” Sonny said.

“Oh, he turned up just a bit later,” the Gangrel said, “and explained that he had to make everyone, even the witches, think he had turned back to his old ways. Otherwise The Brotherhood would have killed him.”

“That can still happen if they find him out,” Julian said. “The Sabbat don’t take betrayal kindly; and who knows how many of the pack are still in town. We’ll have to keep an eye on him.”

“What about Pirelli?” Cameron asked. “Are you keeping him here?”

Julian nodded. “For the time being, He won’t be needed at the final vote; the senior staff of Luxirom has decided to step back from the merger, knowing that otherwise they’d lose financial support. In the meantime we’ll create a convincing story about how Pirelli was blackmailed into changing his mind. He might lose his position because of this, though.”

“That’s unfair!” Frank protested. “None of this was his fault!”

“True,” Julian allowed, “but it’s better to lose his job than to lose his life. We’ll find another lucrative position for him, once the excitement about the failed merger dies down and we’ve dealt with the Sabbat. Until then, he’s safer here than anywhere else.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It is said in Kindred circles that nothing can be kept hidden from the Nosferatu in the long run; not even the Sabbat. Proving that it was true, Daedalus and his clansmen did indeed find the temporary lair of The Brotherhood; and not one moment too early. Just in time for the Nosferatu Primogen to witness the arrival of the ductus of the pack – and that of Turner who came to give his report.

The leader of The Brotherhood looked like a man in his mid-forties, dark-haired, dark-eyed and with a lean, extremely pale face. That alone rang the alarm bells with the Nosferatu. For a Kindred to become this pastry-looking due to the lack of sunlight, the individual in question must have spent centuries – if not millennia – in the Dark. Also, he or she would have extreme vulnerability to the Sun, unless recently and copiously fed.

That would mean Clan Lasombra, which wasn’t really surprising. The Lasombra and the Tzimisce had been the founding clans of the Sabbat, after all. It was to be expected that such a notorious pack as The Brotherhood would have a Lasombra leader. Or rather two, as the beautiful young woman whose name was apparently Klea displayed the same traits as the ductus. And seeing the deference the others showed her, Daedalus was fairly certain that she was their pack priest.

Still, both she and the ductus remained in the background while the bearded young man called Tarkin questioned the newly arrived Turner, who didn’t even seem to be aware of their presence. Again, no surprise there. Old and powerful Lasombra were extremely good at Dominance. If they didn’t want to be noticed, they could defect the senses of others easily.

“You saw the witches kill Vornac?” Tarkin demanded.

“No; I saw what was left,” Turner corrected. “So I went to kill Pirelli, but he was gone. I can only assume the witches found him.”

If only you knew,” Daedalus thought, smiling darkly. It surprised him that The Brotherhood still hadn’t realized the Prince was already on their track, but overconfidence was a typical Sabbat trait that often led to spectacular failure. Obviously, demons and other such creatures allied to the Sabbat shared this particular fault.

“This is a disaster,” Tarkin complained. “What are we gonna tell Raynor? He wants a full accounting, you know.”

“Tell him I warned Vornac not to go but he didn’t listen,” Turner replied with the typical arrogance of somebody who believes having all cards in his hand. “And now I have to go.”

“You can’t go!” Tarkin insisted. “I told you: Raynor wants a full accounting.”

“You can fill him in; you know just as much as I do.”

With that, Turner made attempts to walk away, but at that very moment Klea and Raynor dropped their camouflage and blocked his way.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna go anywhere for a while, Belthazor,” the ductus said icily. “You have much to explain. And much to answer for.”

Both he and Klea raised their hands. Strings of darkness emanated from their fingertips like living cobwebs, and only moments later Turner was tightly wrapped in them as if in a cocoon. He lost consciousness before the whole procedure would be finished.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“It was the Living Darkness all old and powerful Lasombra can wield,” Daedalus explained later, when he joined the impromptu Conclave meeting in the Luna Mansion. “We all know about it, of course, at least in theory; but this was the first time I actually saw it for real. It was… disturbing.”

“Is Turner dead then?” Sonny asked.

The Nosferatu shrugged. “I don’t think so. They took him with them; they wouldn’t have done so if he were dead.”

“Unless they wanted to reanimate his corpse,” Cash muttered.

Daedalus shook his head. “They’d need a Setite or a Giovanni for that; and neither of those would work for the Sabbat. They only serve their own interest; which is bad enough, but not our problem right now. We’ve got more urgent things to deal with.”

“The Sabbat,” Cameron said, stating the obvious.

“And whoever they might be allied to,” Julian sighed. “If The Brotherhood had one demon in their rows, there could be another one. Or more.”

“Or we could be facing a demon infestation independently from the Sabbat,” Daedalus added grimly. “Now that the hellgate on Angel Island is no longer guarded, who knows what might get through at any given time?”

“And we don’t know how to deal with that kind of threat,” Julian admitted.

“Which is why the Legacy House needs to be reopened, sooner rather than later,” Daedalus said. “Since they operated under the disguise of the Luna Foundation, no-one would ask questions if you made attempts to restore the building, at the very least.”

“Perhaps,” Julian allowed, “although any contact to the Legacy hunters could be dangerous for us. They only ever had encounters with the Sabbat; I doubt they could even make a difference between them and us.”

“I’m not suggesting to contact their mother house in London,” Daedalus replied dryly. “But they do have a house in LA, where they actually work with Angelus of all people, against the Sabbat and the demons that populate the underbelly of the city.”

“Yeah, but the LA house – and its sister cell in Sunnydale – are independent ones that have long severed ties with London, run by renegade Watchers,” Cameron, whose grandsire happened to be one of the Anarch Ministers of Los Angeles, reminded them. “Only two of the San Francisco house are still working for the Legacy.”

“Three,” Daedalus corrected.

Cameron rolled his eyes. “The third one has nearly been turned by the Sabbat and is a ghoul now. Hardly your average Legacy hunter.”

“Besides,” Julian added, “even if we could work out a détente with the Legacy, re-establishing the San Francisco house would take time. Years, most likely. We don’t have years. We need to deal with The Brotherhood now, before they’d grow too strong for us.”

“If they have demons to do their dirty work, they already are too strong for us,” Cash said. “We’ll need help, now!”

“Oh, I agree,” Daedalus said. “The problem is: where to get sufficient help from? The Tremere are the only ones well-versed in magic that could deal with demons. Unfortunately, San Francisco has no Tremere presence.”

Cameron shuddered. He used to have dealings with the undead warlocks, back in Chicago, and frankly, the fact that none of them dwelt in San Francisco was a blessing in his opinion. But in one thing Daedalus was right: to deal with demons, powerful magic users were required. Which they did not have among them.

“We can try to reach out to the renegade Legacy house in LA,” Julian looked at Daedalus. “I leave that to you… and to Hawk. In the meantime, we need to be extra watchful and prepared to fight.”

The others nodded in grim agreement. Little did they know that thousands of miles away, on the other side of the pond, help was just about to make itself on the way to them.

This chapter is now complete. Enjoy!

Charmed into Darkness 02 - Enemies at the Hellgate

wiseheart — Fri, 08 Sep 2023 17:36:25 GMT

Charmed into Darkness
by Soledad

Disclaimer: see Introduction.

Rating: T for this part. Canon-typical violence.

Author’s note: Some lines of dialogue have been taken from the 3rd Season “Charmed” episode “The Demon who Came in from the Cold”, for obvious reasons. This is a very AU version of that episode, after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 2 – Enemies at the (Hell)gate

San Francisco, Luna mansion – roughly at the same time

More than six hundred kilometres northward, Julian Luna, the Prince of San Francisco, was indeed facing a serious problem. One that had bee brought before the Conclave by Daedalus, the Nosferatu Primogen – unsurprisingly, as only he Nosferatu would pay attention to such seemingly insignificant occurrences as the violent death of homeless street preachers known as “the prophets”. Because only the Nosferatu – or rather their Primogen – actually knew who these ‘prophets’ really were.

At first the other Primogens didn’t really see the importance of those occurrences. The Kine tended to kill each other for very little reason, after all.

“But why would anyone kill crazy old street preachers?” Lillie Langtry wrinkled her aristocratic Toreador nose in disgust. “Other than being annoyed by them, I mean.”

“Because not all of them are crazy… or humans,” Daedalus said quietly. “Some of them are magical seers who can pre-see actual events. It’s called premonition; a rare ability among humans or Kindred. Since they are dirty and loud, people tend to ignore them – until they cross someone. I’m certain Sonny can tell you that several of them have been killed lately,” he looked at the Ventrue Primogen, who nodded.

“Including a Malkavian seer who’s entered the city recently,” he added grimly. “And it takes a lot to kill a Malkavian, no matter how crazy they are.”

All Primogens present nodded in agreement because that was very true. Malkav’s Childer might be insane – in fact, it was a requirement when they chose their progeny – but they were also highly paranoid and as such extremely hard to catch unaware and kill.

“Do we know who the Kindred prophet was?” Julian asked with a frown. Malkavians belonged to the Camarilla, and as such had to ask the Prince’s permission to dwell in his city, especially in San Francisco, where there was no considerable Malkavian presence. It was as much for their protection as for keeping an eye on them. But this particular one had not announced his presence.

Sonny shook his head. “The homeless among whom he sought shelter knew him as ‘Barry’, but no other name. He’s shown up in San Francisco but a few weeks ago; no-one seems to know where he’s originally come from.”

“Are there any witnesses?” Cash asked; not that he would expect it to be so. The homeless rarely talked to the police because they didn’t trust it to protect them.

“Actually, there are,” Sonny replied. “One of Frank’s informants heard that the ‘prophet’ was murdered by some nondescript man in a dark alley. Who, in exchange, was killed by a young woman with his own knife. After which he apparently went up in flames and burned to ashes.”

“What?” Cash cried in surprise. “But that would mean…”

“… that the killer was Kindred, too,” Julian finished for him. “But who could the young woman be who killed him?”

Sonny shrugged. “No idea. There are no security cameras in that area; but we’re on it. Or rather Greg Morris is; it’s his case.”

“That can be dangerous,” Julian warned. “Morris is not as ignorant towards the supernatural as most, due to his connection to the Halliwell sisters.”

Sonny sighed. “I know, Sire. I’m trying to run as much interference as I can. Morris is a good cop; and a decent man with a family. I’d hate if we had to eliminate him.”

“So, the Malkavian was killed by another Kindred,” Lillie summarized. “Is it possible that the other street preachers were killed by Kindred, too?”

“We cannot exclude the possibility,” Sonny agreed.

“But why?” Cash asked. “Why would any of us want to murder crazy street preachers, even if they might have true glimpses into the future? It doesn’t make any sense… unless we have an infiltration.”

“That is always a possibility,” Julian allowed. “We do run a tight city here, but we just can’t keep it hermetically sealed. San Francisco is simply too big for that. Was there anything in common those ‘prophets’ babbled about?”

“According to Frank’s source, they were ranting about ‘the brotherhood’, whatever that might be,” Sonny replied.

Daedalus suddenly raised his bald head. “Brotherhood? Of the Thorn?”

Sonny shrugged. “Probably. I’m not sure. Who are those people?”

“A particularly vicious Sabbat pack, consisting of Lasombra, City Gangrel, Ventrue and True Brujah members,” Daedalus explained. “They haven’t been heard of for at least a hundred years and were thought to be extinct. Apparently, the rumours were wrong; which means we have a serious problem.”

“It still doesn’t explain why they would want to slaughter street preachers,” Julian said.

“Well, the Malkavian was also saying something about Luxirom,” Sonny supplied.

At that Cameron, the Brujah Primogen, who had been listening to them with a bored expression until now, suddenly became interested.

“Luxirom? The Internet provider? Now that is odd!”

Lillie gave him a jaundiced look. “Why? Do you think the Sabbat would want their own website?”

“Unlikely, since they already do have several,” Cameron replied dryly. “However, the merger talks between Luxirom and MetaSatellite, another big internet provider, faltered over the weekend…”

“Of course they did,” Julian said. “Frank Pirelli knows that a merger would mean that all information flow of the States would wind up in the hands of one company.”

“So what?” Lillie asked with a shrug. “As long as we keep control through Luxirom, I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is that Luxirom is the provider for schrecknet.com", Daedalus pointed out. “We cannot risk the integrity of our own information network. If the Sabbat gained access to it…”

He trailed off, but the others understood well enough what he meant. That could have upturned the balance of power between Camarilla and Sabbat… with disastrous consequences.”

“Perhaps that is exactly what the pack wants,” Cameron said thoughtfully; unlike his predecessor, he was an intelligent man with excellent business sense. “They could have infiltrated the investment bank behind MetaSatellite and now want this merger to go through, so that they can take over the company – and get access to schrecknet.com.”

“In which case they’ll try to force Pirelli to vote for it,” Sonny said.

“Yeah, or kill him,” Cash added.

“We can’t allow that,” Julian warned. “Pirelli is our man; we need to safeguard him till the merger vote… when, exactly is that?”

“At 11:00 tomorrow,” Cameron supplied. “I was planning to be there anyway. I did have some interest in the investment bank but was forced out by the new owners… now we know why.”

Julian nodded. “It makes sense. The best way to get a foothold in the city is to take over our businesses. Work from the inside out. Once our most urgent problem is solved, we’ll have to look into the bank, too,” he turned to Daedalus. “Get me everything you can find out about The Brotherhood,” then back to Cameron. “I’ll mail you Pirelli’s schedule. Have some of your people follow him. We cannot afford to lose him, and if the Sabbat are watching us, which they most likely are, they’ll expect my guards; but hopefully not yours.”

“Of course,” Cameron agreed, with a silver gleam in his eyes. “I want them out of my hair as much as you do. I don’t like being forced out of my business; especially not by some filthy Sabbat pack. You can count on me.”

And oddly enough, Julian knew that he could indeed. He and Cameron might have serious problems with each other – fully justified on both sides, to tell the truth – but the Brujah was a serious businessman, devoted to the Camarilla. Since he had taken over the late Eddie Fiori’s position, the San Francisco Brujah had become a lot more disciplined… and civilized.

Eddie Fiori was brutal and stupid. I’m none of those things, he had said upon his arrival. And he had proved that statement to be true since then. Repeatedly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
According to their previous agreement, Julian mailed Pirelli’s schedule to Cameron, who then placed his best men at Pier and Pescadero well before 8am on the net day. In fact, he went with them personally, just to make sure they wouldn’t screw up; and that proved a good idea. His thugs might be useful for the rough jobs but they lacked his finer sensitivities – like the ability to sense the presence of powerful vampires nearby.

“Be careful,” he warned his men. “It seems the Sabbat are already here; and they aren’t just some rabble you are used to deal with. We’ll need all our strength to save the target… and to live to tell the tale.”

The thugs nodded and readied their phosphorous guns; not even old and powerful Sabbat would stand a chance against those. The trick was to catch them in surprise, though. The Sabbat had finely honed senses even most other Kindred lacked. Therefore the key word of the day was to lie low and be watchful.

Only moments later an elegant black limousine drove out of the car park of the Luxirom building. Barely had it left the parking area, though, when a nondescript car intercepted it, blocking its way. The limousine driver stopped, honked his horn and got out of the car.

“I’ve got it, Mr. Pirelli,” he said over his shoulder and stormed over to the other car. (Cameron was darkly amused to recognize him as one of Julian’s personal drivers.) “What the hell is the matter with you?” he demanded. “Move your car, now!”

The driver of the other car – a curly-haired, bearded man seemingly in his mid-thirties, wearing a business suit – got out of the car instead and started moving away. That enraged the limousine drive even more; but again, these Gangrel mutts were never big on discipline, Cameron thought dryly.

“Hey, where are you going?” he demanded. “Where you goin’, dammit!”

The other driver ignored him, moving away rapidly, and Cameron was getting a really bad feeling about it. Before he could have sent his men into the melee, though, several other people appeared, from various directions: two tall, black-clad men and a stunningly beautiful Asian woman on one side (clearly vampires, all of them, just like the driver), and three pretty young women and a young man (all mortals) from the other side.

Clearly, there were other parties interested in Pirelli as well.

One of the Sabbat (for what else could they have been?) conjured up an energy ball and threw it at the limousine. Before it could have hit the vehicle, though, one of the mortal women did… something with her hands and, to Cameron’s utter bafflement, the energy ball simply froze in mid-air. Her companions ran to the limousine, dragged Pirelli out and fled with him around the corner. The young woman then made another gesture; the energy ball… well, unfroze, hit the limousine and blew it up, with Julian’s driver diving to the ground for safety.

“What the hell was that?” One of the Brujah thugs asked his mouth literally hanging open.

“I don’t know,” Cameron admitted, “but I know what will happen if we lose track on Pirelli. You two,” he looked at the ones he had trained personally and who therefore could be expected to do a halfway decent job, “follow those mortals from safe distance. I want to know where they are taking Pirelli; but I don’t want you to die trying, am I making myself clear?”

“Sure,” they said and, turning into wolves, they jogged around the corner where the mortals had vanished. It was easier to catch up with them on four legs.

As soon as the smoke of the explosion dissipated, the Sabbat carefully approached the burned-out car. Or rather the burned-out cars, as theirs had gotten blown up as collateral damage, too.

“Go, get the body,” the one who appeared to be their leader, said to the Asian beauty.

“What do you want the body for?” the one who had thrown the energy ball asked. “There won’t be much left.”

Clearly, they believed that Pirelli had died in the explosion, which was good. At least his kidnappers (rescuers?) could get some headway before the Sabbat would realise their mistake.

“But even a trace could alert the Kine to the switch,” the leader answered; and then, to Cameron’s surprise, he shape-shifted into the exact copy of Pirelli. Taking on animal form was quite common with Kindred who were old and powerful enough. But taking on the form of a human being was a rare ability – though obviously useful.

In the meantime another car drove out of the car park; one much less fancy than the exploded limo had been. Men gout out of the car and helped the fake Pirelli into it; then the car drove off.

“They’re planning to masquerade one of them as Pirelli at the merger vote!” Cameron realised. “We need to alert Julian, now!”

One of his men ran back to their car to call the Luna mansion. Cameron remained behind to watch how the Sabbat would continue. The bearded driver turned to the tall Sabbat with the fireball and grinned.

“Feels great, doesn’t it, Belthazor? Welcome home, brother,” then he turned to the Asian beauty. “Where is Pirelli’s body?”

“Obviously not here,” the eerily beautiful female replied dryly. “Now, let’s find out who’s taken it and why, shall we? Otherwise I wouldn’t give much chance for you to keep your unlives.”

She clearly didn’t consider herself in danger, which was interesting. She must have had a very high standing within the pack indeed.

Cameron waited until the Sabbat left, opting against following them. That would have been dangerous; and besides, it was more important that they find Pirelli and hinder the impostor in getting the merger through. He just wondered how he was supposed to report the most recent events to the Prince without losing his head in the process.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
To say that the Prince didn’t react well to the news would have been an understatement. In fact, he hadn’t gotten so close to a full-blown Frenzy since Archon’s death. That Cameron had been involved in both events didn’t help things, of course.

“How on Earth could you lose Pirelli to a third party?” He was positively fuming. “At least with the Sabbat we would know what to count on. But who are these people and how did they manage to snatch him both from you and the Sabbat?”

“Well, there was definitely magic involved, on both sides,” Cameron wasn’t easily intimidated and found the Prince’s accusation unjust. “We were not prepared to deal with that – how could we? As for who the third party was, perhaps the others can recognize them from the video.”

“What video?” Sony asked. “The attack was well-planned: it took place outside the reach of the security cameras aimed at the car park.”

“Yeah, but two of my men were wearing body cams. I’ve got everything on tape,” Cameron opened his wireless laptop and replayed the record for them. The effect on his fellow Primogens was most satisfying.

“This can’t be right!” Sonny muttered.

“What?” Julian and Cash asked simultaneously.

Sonny pointed at the tall Sabbat throwing the fireball. “That one… that is definitely not a vampire. That is Assistant District Attorney Cole Turner who’s gone missing some time ago.”

“He could have been turned by the Sabbat,” Cash said,

Daedalus shook his head. “No; no-one of us, not even the Sabbat could use fire as a weapon. All Kindred are vulnerable to fire. He must be something else.”

“Yeah, but what?” Cash asked.

“I don’t know,” Daedalus admitted. “Not yet. I shall investigate.”

With his huge network of contacts that promised to bring some results, at least.

“Well, one of the Sabbat called him Belthazor,” Cameron offered. “Does that say you anything.”

“I’m sure I’ve heard the name somewhere, but right now I just can’t remember,” Daedalus said. “I’ll need to do some research.”

“Do it; there are obviously more parties involved than we’ve originally thought,” the Prince said. “And who are the women and the man that took Pirelli?”

“Well,” Sonny took a closer look and then pointed at one of the women, “This one is definitely Prue Halliwell, the ex-girlfriend of the late Andy Trudeau. She’s working with Morris sometimes now. Which means that the other two must be her sisters. They are their own coven and always work as a team.”

“And the man?”

“Sorry, Sire. I haven’t got a clue.”

“I can ask Janna,” Cash offered. “The Halliwell sisters are kinda celebrities among the other witches; she might know something.”

Cameron stared at the Gangrel Primogen in disbelief. “You are socializing with witches?”

Granted, the Gangrel did things no other… civilized Kindred would do, but this topped everything. Witches could sense the Beast in a vampire and were therefore a serious threat for the Masquerade. How could Luna tolerate this?”

“Not as a rule,” Cash replied, “but Janna is a special case. Her parents were killed by witch hunters when she was just a toddler; she was saved and raised by Kindred.”

“Oh, please!” Cameron said with a derisive snort. “You Gangrel even abandon your own freshly-Embraced progeny; don’t tell me that you’re now into fostering human orphans!”

“It wasn’t us,” Cash returned evenly. “It was the Ravnos. Janna’s mother, a powerful and skilled witch and herbalist, belonged to the Kalderash Romany; and even you ought to know that the Childer of Ennoia always protect their mortal brethren.”

That was very true, of course, but the fact didn’t help to strengthen Cameron’s trust in the witch… or anyone else’s, for that matter. Known as wandering tricksters, mystics and vagabonds, the Ravnos were incurable daredevils who gleefully pursued the art of unloving dangerously. Being an independent Clan, they ware largely individuals without larger Clan loyalties, except that towards the Romany. They counted as untrustworthy, and so did anyone acquainted to them.

“I know what you are thinking, and I don’t say you are wrong, in general,” Julian said to Cameron. “In this particular case, however, we should trust Cash’s instincts. I never met this Janna in person, of course, that would have been unwise, but she and her coven are known as excellent herbalists and potion makers. They take their vows to help people and fight evil (at least what they think to be evil) very seriously. Cash has worked with her before; she can be an ally sometimes.”

“A dangerous ally,” Cameron pointed out. Julian nodded.

“Of course. Which is why Cash is our only connection to her. Even though Daedalus would have a field day discussing potions with her.”

The Nosferatu inclined his head in agreement but made no comment.

“Well then,” Julian said, “the next step ought to be to gather more information. Daedalus should do his research, while Cash pays his contact a visit. And you, Sonny,” he looked at his Childe, “find out anything you can about this mysteriously vanished and resurfaced district attorney.”

“What about me?” Cameron asked. He would not allow to be left out of the action. He simply couldn’t afford that.

“As soon as your men have found out where Pirelli was taken, put a strong watch around the place,” Julian replied. “The Sabbat might want to finish what they’ve started. We can’t allow that.”

Cameron nodded and stood. “I’ll meet you at the merger vote,” he said before leaving.

Lillie gave the Prince a worried look. “Are you sire you want to go there in person, Julian?” She asked. “It would expose you to the Sabbat, and with all the Kine present…”

“It is a risk,” Julian allowed. “But I’m the only one who outranks Pirelli in the business hierarchy. If we can’t find him in time, I’ll have to be there to override the vote of the impostor. We simply can’t afford this merger to happen; even if it means I’d have to reveal my interests in the bank behind Luxirom.”

“I wish we had the means to counteract the glamour of the impostor,” Cash muttered angrily.

Julian shrugged. “So do I, but that would require the skills of a Tremere adept; and since we have no Tremere presence in San Francisco, we’ll have to use our own methods. Let’s go, people, and do what we can.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Cash reached the manor house where Janna’s coven lived when the witches had just finished their daily scrying ritual, which always took place an hour before sunset. As soon as the circle broke up and the other women left to go after their business, he approached Janna and was greeted with the usual warmth.

They used to have a casual, on/off relationship for over a decade, which they renewed after Sasha Luna had left San Francisco and it became obvious that her love affair with Cash had no future. Even witches needed someone in their life, and after being raised by vampires (and by Ravnos at that), Janna found it difficult to find a man who could live with the person she had become. Quite frankly, she scared the shit out of the average Joe; not that she would be content with one of those.

So yeah, she welcomed Cash back in her life, even though she found it better not to reveal his true nature to her coven. It was better that way, for both of them. This was not one of their scheduled dates, though, so she was surprised to see him at this time; and unannounced, too.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, worried.

“We have a Sabbat infestation at our hands,” Cash admitted; he didn’t need to embroider the truth for her. “I hoped you might be able to help identifying some people from the third involved party; the mortal ones,” he took the record out of his inner pocket.” Fortunately, some of our people were wearing a body cam.”

They went into the house and Janna watched the soundless video with great interest.

“Those are the Charmed Ones all right,” she then said. “It is a known fact that the middle one can freeze people or things for a limited amount of time, and that is exactly what we can see here.”

“But who is the man with them?” Cash asked.

Janna shrugged. “I’ve never seen him before, but since he’s working with them, he must be their Watcher.”

“Witches have a Watcher?” Cash was understandably surprised by that piece of news. “Like the Sabbat Slayer?”

“Not exactly,” Janna said. “Wicca Watchers are an independent branch of the institution; they call themselves Whitelighters. But yes, they are Watchers, and having a strong affinity for magic using is a requirement for them to be accepted.”

“Interesting,” Cash said. “Do all witches have a Watcher?”

“Well, I don’t,” Janna replied dryly. “Oh, one of them tried to puff himself up as the Whitelighter of our coven, but we sent him packing long ago. The Charmed Ones are a different matter, though. They are the fulfilment of an ancient prophecy, so the Elders keep a close eye on them. Of course,” she added with a grin, “they hadn’t expected the guy falling in love with one of the sisters. They even wanted to marry, which is not allowed; the Watcher is supposed to remain emotionally uninvolved, so that he could ‘guide’ his charges,” she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers.

“Ridiculous,” Cash commented. “Being a woman is an integral part of being a witch; or so Madame Zorza tells me. How could any man, even if magically gifted, compare?”

“They can’t,” Janna agreed. “But that never stopped them trying. Anyway, the rumour is that the Elders ordered the Watcher back to London; at which the Charmed Ones seveed ties with them and are now on their own.”

“Good for them,” Cash said. “They don’t need some puffy shirt from England to tell them how to lead their lives. Can you recognize anyone else on this vid?” Janna shook her head, and Cash pointed at the man Sonny had identified as the missing ADA Turner. “What about him? We know who he’s supposed to be; but according to the Brujah, the Sabbat called him Belthazor.”

To his surprise, Janna became ash grey hearing that.

“Belthazor?” She repeated. “If he’s really that, then we’re having a much bigger problem than I’d thought.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“So, who is Belthazor then?” Julian Luna asked.

He had summoned an emergency Conclave session to discuss possible strategies with his Primogen, but for that, he needed facts. It was Daedalus who answered, having done his research via schrecknet.com – and being anything but happy with the results.

“According to the Internet Demon Database he is a demonic assassin that has been around for at least a century,” he reported. “The oldest reports mentioning him go back as far as 18…”

“What? There’s actually a demon database on the ‘net?” Cash asked in disbelief.

Daedalus nodded. “And an excellent one, I’d say, run by the Legacy hunters… or at least it used to be. There seem to be quite a few freelancers lately.”

“How did you manage to hack into their database?” Cameron asked. “I doubt they’d make much of a difference between us and demons. Hell, they even believe that we get possessed by a demon when we’re Embraced!”

“Not surprising, since they only get to deal with the Sabbat as a rule,” the Nosferatu said dryly. “In LA, however, they have a somewhat… unorthodox House that severed ties with the upper echelons of the Legacy and actually works with Angelus, of all people. So I can get access through Four-Eyes, who is the local operator of schrecknet.com – and Hawk’s second.”

Lillie frowned. “Does Angelus know that?”

“Four-Eyes doesn’t work for Angelus,” Daedalus said. “He works for Hawk, who operates as Angelus’s unofficial Justicar… and for the rest of the Clan. He is the best where information is concerned… and absolutely reliable.”

“But if this Belthazor is a centuries-old demon, how comes that he looks like ADA Turner?” Sonny asked. “Is he a shape-shifter or is he possessing Turner?”

“Both versions are imaginable,” Daedalus replied thoughtfully. “Or the two might be one of the same.”

“What?” Julian, Cameron and Cash cried in unison.

“Certain demons are capable of taking on human form; even of producing offspring with humans,” Daedalus explained. “We should do some research into this Turner person, too; but that’s Sonny’s area of expertise, not mine.”

“I’ve already done so,” the Ventrue said, “and the results are… interesting, to say the least. to say the least. In the Chinese curse sense of ‘interesting’, I’m afraid.”

“What have you found?” Daedalus asked.

“At first sight, his CV looks fairly normal,” Sonny studied his small notebook. “He was born in California, to a state assemblyman named Benjamin Coleridge Turner and his wife Elizabeth. Shortly after his birth, his father separated from his mother and applied for sole guardianship but was killed in an accident, so he was raised by his mother.”

“Who, I assume, had a hand in his father’s death,” Julian said grimly.

Sonny nodded. “We should assume that, yes. She then put him through law school, where he excelled and became a prominent lawyer.”

“So far it’s pretty average, save for the death of the father,” Cameron said with a frown. “Where comes the demonic part into the game?”

“Well, I forgot to mention that he was born in 1885,” Sonny replied. “That makes it pretty unlikely that he’d be the average human.”

“It would also mean that his mother was a demon,” Daedalus supplied.

“Or is, in case she’s still around,” Cash said.

“If she is, she’s smart enough to keep a low profile,” the Nosferatu answered. “In any case, the first mentioning of Belthazor is from 1900 or 1901… the sources disagree. Over the next century he made a reputation for himself as a cold, ruthless and methodical assassin who could – and would – kill anyone, fire being his natural weapon.”

“But Turner was merely fifteen or sixteen at that time!” Lillie exclaimed.

Daedalus shrugged. “Demons – even half-demons – mature much faster than your average human… and they live longer. A great deal longer, unless they are killed.”

“I wonder why the Sabbat didn’t turn him,” Cameron said.

Daedalus shook his head. “He’d have become too strong, too dangerous, even for them. This way they can still control him through his human half.”

“How did he meet with the Halliwell sisters anyway?” Julian asked.

“Oh, I actually got to witness that first-hand,” Sonny replied. “It was back in 2000, when he investigated the attack on Morris. The sisters witnessed the attack and foiled the assailant, one Emilio Smith. Turner called the sisters in as witnesses for Smith’s trial, but Judge Hamilton acquitted him.”

Julian nodded. “Yes, I remember now. Hamilton turned out to be in league with the Sabbat; that was the last attempt to infiltrate the city… until now.”

“That’s right,” Sonny said. “Hamilton sent Emilio after Turner, but the sisters managed to save him. In the next few months he began dating the youngest sister and appeared to help them in many ways. He even cleared the oldest one of murder charges.”

“Was she truly innocent?” Cameron asked doubtfully. One never knew with witches, after all.

Sonny nodded. “Yes, she was. No-one of them has ever harmed anyone… save for demons and other such unsavoury creatures. It’s just hard to prove your innocence if you have to keep a low profile to survive.”

“A bit like the Masquerade,” Cash commented.

“Exactly,” Sonny agreed.

“What I don’t understand,” Lillie said, “is all these demons popping up left, right and centre lately. We never had that problem before.”

“Actually, we did,” Daedalus corrected grimly, “but the Legacy hunters always took care of it for us. Now that their House is half-ruined and the Hellgate upon which it has been built unguarded, though, we are on our own. Sooner or later we’ll have to do something about it.”

“But what?” Lillie asked.

“I don’t know,” Daedalus admitted.

“Well, that’s another problem for another time,” Julian said. “Let us focus on the immediate crisis first: on preventing the merger from happening. We’ll deal with the larger problem when this one is solved.”

Charmed into Darkness 01 - Apocalypse Rising

wiseheart — Mon, 03 Jul 2023 17:49:23 GMT

Charmed into Darkness
by Soledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" story.
A Charmed/BtVS/AtS/Kindred: The Embraced/PtL crossover

Rating: Mature, for this part.

Note: Lady Heather is borrowed from CSI and features in my other story, “The Toreador Chronicles”. Nahir and Four-eyes are canon characters from White Wolfe, where they aren’t given much character background. So I borrowed them and turned them into my own characters. Broadhurst University is my own invention.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Chapter 01 – Apocalypse Rising

Nahir, one of the most ancient creatures of the night – if indeed not the most ancient creature still walking the Earth – never intended to leave England. Nor did he keep in touch with his fellow vampires; not beyond what would be absolutely necessary. Being a Lasombra Antitribu, even though he lived under the disguise of a Tremere Anarch, was a dangerous way of unlife; the fewer knew about his mere existence, the safer it was for him. Not even the Prince of London knew about his true identity.

He lived in an old manor house just outside London for decades, teaching ancient history at Broadhurst University – a small, very traditional, very conservative and very expensive private college in London – for so long that no-one could remember the time when he hadn’t been there. That was the advantage of old private English schools: once you’d become a fixture, people simply accepted you and stopped asking questions.

He lived there in near-seclusion, with only his personal ghoul (and slave) as a company, and he was content with the arrangement. He would sometimes miss his remaining progeny but there was a reason why they lived scattered all over the planet with very little contact to each other. It was safer that way, for them all.

Still, when the invitation came to hold a series of guest readings at UCLA, he welcomed the chance to reconnect with Heather. She, like himself, was an Antitribu and lived in disguise: disguised as a Toreador dominatrix in Los Angeles, owning and running the BDSM and fetish club called La Lune Rouge that was highly popular among both Kindred and mortal clientele.

“We are a completely legal establishment; but an exclusive one,” Heather – called Lady Heather by employees and patrons alike – explained, after having given her Sire the full tour through every single room of the club. Nahir was a Master himself and thus had a professional interest in the place. What he saw met his expectations; Heather had created a place of style and professionalism.

“We only accept a very selected number of clients,” she continued. “No-one gets in without the recommendation of at least two old and reliable patrons. We are represented by the law firm Navital & Waters – Camarilla Ventrue lawyers – so we are suitably safe. Well… as safe as anyone can be in these days.

Nahir nodded in agreement. “Life in a Free Anarch City can be turbulent at times. Especially if it’s the last of its kind.”

“Actually, Los Angeles has become much safer since Angelus took over as Prince,” Heather replied. “He has the support of the Camarilla, of course – they were the ones to invite him, after all – but the Anarch gangs also listen to him. He’s forged an alliance with the two powerful Anarch Ministers and helped to establish the local Legacy House. Together, they are more than capable of holding back the Sabbat.”

“Los Angeles has a Legacy House?” Nahir said in surprise. “Since when?”

“A few years by now,” Heather answered. “Oddly enough, it was Angelus’s idea. And since the Prefect used to be an ex-Watcher and his personal assistant, it wasn’t too hard for him to recruit the right people for the job. They even have a small branch watching over the Hellmouth in Sunnydale. No, the real danger breeds in San Francisco.”

“How that?” Nahir asked with a frown. “The city has been firmly in Camarilla hands – in Ventrue hands at that – for decades. Both Archon Raine and Julian Luna have run a tight city. And a safe one at that.”

“That was true until a few years ago,” Heather said grimly. “Until the Legacy House was destroyed. Now there’s nothing and no-one to guard the Hellgate that lies under its ruins. San Francisco has no real Tremere presence; besides, certain dark forces can only be stopped by people who can wield the power of the Lasombra.”

“Only that our Clan would rather support those dark forces than trying to stop them,” Nahir commented.

“Which is why you should move to San Francisco; at least for a while,” Heather returned promptly.

Nahir gave her a bewildered look. “Why should I want to do that? I’m perfectly content in London.”

“Too content,” Heather said disapprovingly. “You’ve been there for how long? A hundred years? Two hundred? Or even longer? You know it’s dangerous for us to remain in the same place. We don’t have the Clan backing us.”

“I’ve always kept a low profile,” Nahir said with a shrug.

“After a century or two, no profile can be low enough,” Heather insisted.

Nahir rolled his eyes. “And you’re suggesting that I should move to San Francisco, of all places? To a city so tightly controlled by Ventrue Camarilla that not even a bat can enter it unnoticed?”

“To a fatally endangered city in desperate need of your powers, yes,” Heather corrected. “Julian Luna may be a sticker to Camarilla rules but he’s not a fool. He knows he can’t withstand the dark forces on his own, without the Legacy hunters. That’s why he’d worked out a détente with them long ago, but now they’re gone and he’s in a precarious position. The Sabbat he can deal with. Demons and other such powers he has no experience with and will inevitably fall. He knows that; or at least Daedalus does. And he will bring Luna over, eventually.”

Nahir shook his head. “Even if you are right, what can I possibly do? I may be old and powerful, but I’m just one vampire; I seriously doubt that Olivier would be willing to settle down in San Francisco – or that you would be willing to leave Los Angeles.”

“Not permanently,” Heather admitted. “But I might come over from time to time to help. You’ll need more progeny, though.”

“No,” Nahir said promptly. “Even if I were willing to make more Childer, which I am not, what use would a bunch of fledglings be for us?”

“Not just any fledglings,” Heather opened the safe in her office, took out a thick manila folder and handed it to her Sire. “Fledglings with power.”

Nahir opened the folder and glared at the photos of some pretty girls that lay atop the documents. “Who are these?”

“The Halliwell sisters,” Heather replied. “Also known as the Charmed Ones: some of the most powerful witches ever to walk the Earth, dedicated to protecting innocents and ridding the world of evil. Each one of them has some specific powers inherited from their ancestor, Melinda Warren, a powerful witch. They are immensely strong each on her own, but united in the magical bond of the Power of Three, they become magnitudes stronger than they are individually. That is the power you’ll need to keep the Hellgate in San Francisco under control; at least until the Legacy re-establishes its presence there. And that can take a long time yet.”

Nahir shook his head again. “Natural powers cannot survive the Embrace.”

“Tell that the Tremere witches of the LA Chantry,” Heather returned dryly.

“That is different,” Nahir said. “I wouldn’t dabble in Tremere blood rituals even if I could. Our powers are not compatible.”

“Exactly,” Heather nodded. “But you are old; older than the Sabbat as a whole. You are the last true Aurelian. You could do it.”

“Perhaps,” Nahir allowed; there was indeed a strong possibility for him to succeed. “But why should I want to do so? San Francisco is not my concern,”

“But if the city falls to the dark side, it will become your concern,” pointed out Heather. “Yours and Olivier’s and Angelus’s and mine; because the Clan will gorge themselves in dark power and our unlives will be forfeited. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be diablerized by some power-hungry Sabbat.”

“Surely you’re exaggerating!”

“No, I am not. If Julian Luna falls and the Hellgate opens in San Francisco, the dark wave will roll over South California in no time. The aftershocks will tear the Hellmouth in Sunnydale wide open, releasing a second wave of hellish creatures; and then the darkness will spread over the entire continent like the plague… and not the kind of darkness we would be comfortable with. We all were humans once; and we kept some of our human traits, despite the changes. If the Old Ones are released to walk the Earth again, not even we will last much longer.”

“Are you having visions now?” Nahir still wasn’t quite buying it,

“Not me,” Heather replied. “Drusilla.”

That silenced Nahir quite successfully. Drusilla, the insane Childe of Angelus, was known for having had the second sight even before Angelus would turn her into a vampire. She was said to have been healed – sort of – from her madness, but the truth was, her visions had always proved true, despite her insanity. If Drusilla saw the end of the world coming, the end of the world was coming.

“Very well,” Nahir said after a lengthy pause. “I haven’t survived all those millennia to become demon fodder now. Tell me more about these witches. Assuming they are true witches with true power, not just some wannabe Wiccas brewing vile potions and dabbling in what they believe to be white magic.”

“All I have is their basic file,” Heather admitted. “The one we gained through our people with the police and the FBI. If you want to learn about their powers, you need to talk to the Nosferatu. I can give you the address.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Two hours later Nahir was sitting in one of the small offices at schrecknet.com, the centre of the Nosferatu information network, with an elegant, scholarly man in a tailored three-piece suit. The man had a completely bald head and gold-rimmed glasses and looked like a university professor – which he had been once, in his mortal years. Only the elongated earlobes and the taloned hands revealed that he was, in fact, a vampire. A Nosferatu at that, from one of the oldest and more animalistic Clans.

He was known among the upper echelons of the undead as Four-eyes, due to his ever-present spectacles (not that he would actually need them, vampire eyesight being what it was) and to the fact that he adamantly refused to reveal his true (mortal) name. Sometimes he was asked for the reason of his refusal; in such times he simply replied that he still had living family that was better off believing him dead.

Nahir and he had known each other for decades, albeit only professionally – they were both Noddist scholars – and this was the first time they had actually met in person. They had exchanged phone calls and e-mails on occasion, of course; whenever Nahir needed sensitive information. All Nosferatu were information traders and Four-eyes, the founder and maintainer of schrecknet.com, was their uncrowned king.

Needless to say that he had extensive files on the Halliwell sisters, too. With countless photos, copies of every important document of their lives, starting with their birth certificate through their school notes to their college degrees… well, to the college degree of the oldest sister, as the others didn’t have any. Nahir was impressed. He always knew that no-one could beat a Nosferatu when it came to gaining information, but even he hadn’t thought that they would be so good.

So good indeed that they found something the existence of which not even the sisters themselves were aware: that of a fourth sister. Well, half-sister, actually, as she was born as a result of a forbidden affair between the girls’ mother and her Watcher and raised by adoptive parents, outside of the powerful grandmother’s influence.

Nahir did wonder at first why the family matriarch would agree with that. On second thought, however, he realized the calculating wisdom behind it. They needed three sisters to unleash the Power of Three. It didn’t matter which three of them. Should anything happen to one of the legitimate daughters – and considering the lives they led, in constant focus of the dark forces, that had always been a distinct possibility – they could reach out to the fourth one. Should that not be necessary, though, the girl could live out her natural life in peace, oblivious to her dangerous heritage.

A heritage Nahir intended to put to good use. Which wasn’t as simple as it might seem.

“To activate her inherited powers, one of her sisters has to die first,” Four-eyes explained. “It is a bit like with the Sabbat Slayer: only if the current one dies will the next one be called. Of course, in these modern days of reanimation that can still lead to the existence of two Slayers at the same time.”

Nahir nodded. He was aware of the recent decade’s events, naturally. Heather saw into keeping him informed about the situation in the States all the time. Pro forma all Lasombra counted as Sabbat, and they had to be aware of the location of the Slayer constantly. Or Slayers, as it happened to be right now. Those girls usually didn’t know enough to recognize the difference between a Sabbat Lasombra and the extremely rare Antitribu.

“Therefore I shall have to Embrace one of the sisters to unleash the potential of the half-sister,” he summarized. “Which one would you suggest?”

“The eldest,” Four-eyes replied without hesitation. “She is the most powerful of the three; and you’ll need her acceptance to approach the others. She is very protective of them and not above doing horrible things to people she sees as a threat. You also might need her support when it comes to the training of the youngest. That one will be high maintenance. Besides, it would be only prudent – pardon the pun – to preserve Prudence in her current, perfect physical shape. Another year or two and her body would begin to sag without cosmetic interference; and if I remember correctly, you prefer your Childer in their natural shape.”

Nahir nodded again. “I do. What about the middle one, though?”

“She could prove very useful running your household,” Four-eyes selected the picture of a young woman, lovely yet fairly plain compared with the exotic features of her older sister. “She’s used to taking care of her siblings and to work in the background most efficiently. She also owns a club that can be turned into an official haven. For that, however, you’ll have to arrange yourself with Julian Luna.”

“Do you truly believe he would accept me?”

“That I cannot promise. But without his permission you won’t stand a chance. He runs a tight city, as you know; but he’ll be relieved to have an ally against the creatures that might creep through the Hellgate. An ally who actually has the power to deal with them, unlike his own people. Not even Daedalus is old and strong enough to do that.”

“True; but will he actually believe that I’m not, in fact, a Sabbat monster?”

“He’ll ask Daedalus for a background check; and eventually Daedalus will ask me. They all do, sooner or later.”

And they’ll believe Four-eyes, Nahir knew that. Everyone trusted schrecknet.com – and rightly so. Four-eyes’s own reputation was high enough; but he was also the second of Hawk, of all people, and Hawk had been, until recently, the Enforcer of Justicar Petrodon; and that was enough for any Camarilla Prince.

“You would vouch for me?” he asked; it was highly unusual for a Nosferatu to do so.

Four-eyes shook his head. “We don’t take sides, as you know. But I’ll give them enough facts to draw their own conclusion.”

That was fine with Nahir, and after another hour of pleasant conversation, all of which rotated around more scholarly topics, he gathered the thick manila folder with the information and left, taking with him the promise that Four-eyes would collect more in-depth details about the fourth sister. Nahir had definite plans for that one; but he needed to learn more to see if those plans were feasible.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He returned to Heather’s personal haven under the club La Lune Rouge and spent a very… relaxing afternoon with his Childe and her personal ghoul, a spunky Goth girl. Both were highly trained in bondage and discipline games, and Nahir allowed himself the rare luxury of being whipped by his skilled Childe within an inch of his unlife.

Yes, he was a Master and very dominant, both sexually and otherwise; but even he needed balance, rare though such chances might happen. And Heather was the only person on the entire planet to whom he would willingly submit. One of the only two people whom he trusted… well, as much as a Lasombra Antitribu could trust anyone.

The other such person was Olivier, his eldest Childe still alive (relatively speaking; undead would have been the correct definition, but Nahir wasn’t really bothered by mere semantics), but Olivier wasn’t a dom. Oh, he was dominant, very much so (which Lasombra wasn’t?), but even after centuries in the Dark, he had problems with containing his violent impulses. Having his Sire at his mercy would have thrown what little control he had straight out of the window.

Female Childer, if properly trained, were so much more reliable, Nahir thought, hanging hogtied from the ceiling of Heather’s personal playroom, while she pierced his most intimate parts with needles and the Goth girl was servicing him with her mouth. Letting go like this was the best thing that had happened to him for a very long time. Back in England he had no-one to serve those particular needs.

Later he was released from the bondage and his already fading welts and burn and knife marks tended to. After that, he was treated to a bath with rose petals and re-established his dominance over his Childe by taking her over the whipping bench, using all available orifices, one after another. For Heather, it was much-needed balance, too. She couldn’t afford to submit to her customers, either mortal or otherwise.

He was offered the Goth girl for dessert; an offer that he gladly accepted. Granted, she was whippet thin with barely any breasts and a scrawny little arse that was even smaller than Roderick’s, but she was also extremely skilled. The things she could do with her mouth and her inner muscles could only be compared with the skills of the great courtesans in Ancient Greece. Clearly, Heather had done a good job while training her.

And she was mortal warm; something that Nahir always appreciated in his subs.

They were barely finished when Olivier arrived. He, too, dwelt in Los Angeles in these days, disguised as a Tremere Anarch. Nahir eyed him with proprietary pride. By Caine, his eldest Childe was beautiful! Every bit as beautiful as he had been at the time of his Embrace, back in the twelfth century; but now his natural beauty was accentuated by the power and knowledge he had gained during the centuries in-between,

Compared with Nahir himself, he was still barely more than a fledgling, of course. But he was the second-oldest Aurelian still walking the Earth, which meant that he outranked even Angelus and his entire family.

Not that the Anarch Prince of Los Angeles would know of his true identity; or that of Heather, of course. That would have been foolish. Angelus tended to have a dim view towards the Order of which he had emerged. It would take time – a lot of time – to make him understand that the Order had not always been the vicious Sabbat pack it had become in his own times.

Time that Nahir didn’t have right now.

Despite his age and powers, Olivier still knew that he owed his maker respect, so he greeted Nahir the traditional way: by kneeling and kissing his hand. Very few undead families practiced these rites in modern times, when most of the elder generations had been exterminated in the Anarch Revolt and the subsequent Clan Wars. Nahir, however, was an ancient vampire; one of the Antediluvians, actually, although he had been embraced shortly after the Greet Flood, so strictly seen he didn’t count as one. But he had lived his mortal life before the Flood; something no-one else could say about themselves.

The young ones couldn’t even imagine what that meant. Even Heather watched Olivier’s submissive mannerism with slight bewilderment. She was highly trained, true, but she simply didn’t have the age to understand, coming from an era several millennia later.

Nahir leaned down to his eldest Childe cut his tongue with the tip of a fang and kissed Olivier deeply, sharing his Vitae with him. They hadn’t done this for a very long time, given that they lived on the opposite sides of the Atlantic Ocean, and their centuries-old bond re-established itself with a vengeance. Later he would order Olivier into his bed and dominate him into sexual obedience, for this was the way between them; he was already looking forward to it very much.

He had missed Olivier; the sharing of blood, the violent sex, the struggle of forcing him into submission. It had been too long, for both of them.

Right now, however, they had important things to discuss. They retreated to Heather’s boudoir with a bottle of excellent bloodwine to bring Olivier up to date with the long-term plans for the foreseeable future. Nahir knew that he needed the help of his surviving Childer to build a sufficient new household; and one consisting of such potentially volatile Childer, at that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I was thinking about the right order of taking them in,” he told his Childer,” and I believe I should begin with the half-sister.”

Heather, examining the file of Paige Matthews, nodded in agreement.

“That would be perhaps the best. She has no contact to the others; doesn’t even know about them. Therefore she can’t turn to them for protection, which could be dangerous, even for you. Besides, this says she’s very active in the BDSM scene of San Francisco; you could naturally approach her from that angle…”

“ … and take her as a personal slave,” Nahir finished the sentence.

“My thoughts exactly,” Heather nodded. “It seems she hasn’t accepted a permanent Master yet. She is choosy, which is a good thing. I don’t doubt that you’ll be able to persuade her to submit.”

“Once she’s in my house, though, I’ll need help to train her properly,” Nahir pointed out.

“I can close my club for a month but no longer,” Heater said. “My clientele can’t be neglected for too long. Some of them are in a… delicate mental state and need my treatment regularly.”

Knowing Heather’s usual clientele that could mean anything from a mortal suffering a mental breakdown to an unstable vampire going on a killing spree; the latter of which could have unfortunate consequences for the entire undead community. Ever since he’d been cursed, Angelus reacted really badly to the unnecessary killing of mortals. Coming from him, of all people, it was more than a little hypocritical, Nahir found, but ex-criminals tended to make the most overzealous vigilantes.

“What if you came over a few days every other month in the first year?” he suggested. “I’d come up for the expenses, of course; and night trains are quite comfortable nowadays.”

Heather hesitated. She was one of those vampires who rarely ever left their havens, using blood dolls most of the time instead of Hunting. And while she was fully capable of taking care of herself in every sense of the word, being outside of her own four walls made her extremely uncomfortable.

Nahir knew that, of course, and hated to force her outside. But he needed her expertise in slave training and would force her, if he had to.

“I can accompany you, so that you won’t be travelling alone,” Olivier offered; then, with a wicked grin, he added. “We could have sex in the train compartment, while the conductor is watching; then we could drink from him and make him forget everything.”

“Or I could handcuff you to the parcel rack, naked, and flay the flesh from your bones to entertain him,” she returned, unsmiling.

There was something in her eyes that told Nahir that she wasn’t joking, and he briefly wondered if anything had happened between these two in his absence. They had always got on quite amiably in the past.

“Is there something you two want to tell me?” he asked.

Heather shook her head. “Nothing of importance. Some people just need to be reminded from time to time that their Blood-sibs are not their progeny… or their possessions. I can handle it, Sire… and he knows it.”

A glance at Olivier’s uncomfortable expression proved the truth of that statement. Heather might have looked like a small, fine-boned girl, but even in her mortal days she had been a lot stronger than she looked. Add enhanced vampire strength, her practical knowledge about disciplinary tools and the arcane Lasombra powers, and she made a formidable opponent, even for a male of the same Blood.

Plus, she always acted in cold calculation, and that was an advantage in itself.

“Very well,” Nahir said after a moment. “Just remember, Olivier: I’m still your maker and have the right – and the strength – to unmake you if you disappoint me.”

“That won’t be necessary, Sire,” Oliver sounded more subdued that he’d heard him for a very long time. For centuries, actually.

“I hope so, because I’ll need you for this project, too. Embracing three Childer in quick succession would be draining, even for me; I can’t hope to train all three of them properly on my own.”

“Three Childer?” Heather echoed. “I thought there were four of them.”

Nahir shook his head. “I won’t Embrace the half-sister. I’m planning to turn her into a slave and eventually a personal ghoul. One whose training should be completed before I would start with her older sisters.”

“That should be doable,” Heather said. “But you’ll have to find a house first; one well suited for a Kindred household.”

“I know. Could you help me with that?”

“My lawyers probably can. Louis Fortier, the Minister of West Los Angeles – a Ventrue Anarch by the way – owns a bank and several real estate agencies; he ought to have good connections in the market of San Francisco as well. He has several Childer and a small army of ghouls; he knows what’s needed for a large household. He’ll find the right place for you. Are you going to disguise yourself as a Tremere?”

Nahir nodded. “I wouldn’t make a convincing Toreador, unlike you; and San Francisco has no Tremere presence right now. I ought to be safe… for a while.”

“You’ll have to come clean with Julian Luna, sooner rather than later, though,” Heather warned him. “He is fairly reasonable as the Ventrue go, despite his role in the Manzanita massacre, but he doesn’t react well to being mislead.”

“I’m not afraid of Julian Luna or his Gangrel lapdogs,” Nahir replied arrogantly.

Heather rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say you should. But he is the lawful Prince of San Francisco, whatever you might think of him in particular – or of the Camarilla in general. If you want to stay in his city for years, you’ll have to get his permission. That’s how things are done in a Camarilla-controlled city, and you know that.”

“And people wonder why it came to the Anarch Revolt in the first place,” Nahir commented sourly.

But Heather was right, as usual. For somebody so relative young in the Dark she possessed unusual insight and wisdom, and Nahir had never regretted listening to her – so far.

For his plans to work, he would have to present himself to the Prince of San Francisco. He only hoped that Julian Luna, almost shockingly young as Camarilla Princes went, would indeed have the common sense to recognize the advantages of a tentative alliance with him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The other necessary step was to find a teaching job in San Francisco, but he wasn’t particularly worried about that part. Broadhurst might have been a small college, but it had an excellent reputation, close to that of Oxford and Cambridge. It was very hard to get in – one needed lots of money and beyond that good connections – and equally hard to stay in. The workload was enormous, so that only the most diligent students could keep up with it, and the rules very strict. Only one’s very best was good enough, and that was expected from both students and teachers.

Nahir taught ancient history at Broadhurst, both religious and secular. During his incredibly long life he had earned a solid reputation concerning the cultures of Ancient Mesopotamia, Ancient Greece, Carthage and Rome, some of which he had seen with his very eyes, so he was much sought after the best universities all over the word. He had chosen Broadhurst because it was small and secluded. At Oxford he would have inevitably run into the Watchers who usually enrolled their offspring there, and there was no way he could have fooled that ancient organization in the long run. The other schools were too multinational for his taste. He preferred time-honoured English traditions – those fit his own private nature better.

Thanks to his professional reputation it wasn’t hard to get an offer for a four-year teaching stint at Berkeley, starting in September 2001; especially as Four-Eyes and his contacts were involved in the process. So, at the end of his guest readings he returned to England to dissolve his household there, to take an extended leave from Broadhurst and to prepare Roderick for the upcoming profound changes in their lives.

Ah yes, Roderick. That had been an intriguing story on its own right – and a somewhat unexpected one. One that, in hindsight, might have been a mistake and could clash with his new plans most uncomfortably. But what had been done years ago could not be undone ever again. He only hoped that Roderick would be able to deal with the new situation. Because for better or worse, he was now responsible for the well-being – not to mention for the continued existence – of his boy.

Kindred Spirits, Part 10 - the end

wiseheart — Tue, 14 Jun 2022 15:59:53 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

Author’s notes: Originally, I planned to go the whole nine miles and have Coreen introduced to the rest of the San Francisco Legacy team. But then I realized that it would open up a whole new story, which I am not ready to start right now, and decided to finish the epilogue with her arrival in the Legacy House.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Epilogue

Coreen didn’t want to admit, but she was more than a little overwhelmed when she arrived at San Francisco International Airport. And not because she hadn’t seen a really big airport before. After all, Toronto Pearson International Airport – or YYZ, as it was affectionately called – was the largest and busiest airport in Canada, handling roughly fifty million passengers a year. But San Francisco International Airport served as a hub for several big airlines, was a major gateway to Europe, the Middle East and Asia… and the largest airport of the San Francisco Bay Area.

It was also said to be the second-busiest in California, right after LA International Airport, which Coreen could easily believe as she looked around at the International terminal. People of all shapes, colours and fashion senses were hurrying along corridors or standing in the queue at customs and immigration – it looked like an anthill, really. Her outfit, which usually earned curious (or disapproving) looks in the public, wasn’t even noticed in the crowd.

Since Air Canada operated from airports with US border preclearance, Coreen didn’t have to wait at customs and immigrations. She could exit the airport from the departure level, which was a blessing. Or would have been, had she known where to go from there.

She was trying to calculate how much it would cost her if she had to take a cab to her destination (the airport being well outside San Francisco proper), when a young man with boyish good looks, haunted eyes and a military bearing walked up to her and extended his hand.

“Miss Fennel, I presume? Miss Coreen Fennel?”

Since she was the only person in this busy human anthill wearing a Goth outfit and make-up, spotting her probably hadn’t been hard. She accepted the proffered hand.

“That would be me, yes. And you are…?” She trailed off, and the young man smiled.

“Oh, sorry. My name is Nick Boyle. I’m the chief of security of the Luna Foundation and I was sent to fetch you,” he flashed an ID card that marked him as an employee of the Luna Foundation indeed.

Coreen already knew that the Luna Foundation was merely a cover organization for the San Francisco Legacy House and let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank you! I was seriously getting worried that I might not have enough cash on me for the cab fare.”

The young man laughed. “No need for that. We take care of our own.”

He led Coreen to the car park and steered her towards a black jeep. Coreen, who had hoped for a limousine, was a bit disappointed, but the company more than made up for the unspectacular transport. Whatever Nick Boyle was (or had been), whatever he might have seen (and his eyes revealed that much of it had been traumatising), he was a personable young man with a quirky sense of humour. Coreen liked him immediately, and soon they were chatting amiably, as if they had been old friends.

That made the long way – which included taking the ferry from the mainland to Angel Island – less tedious, and Coreen was almost surprised when Nick finally announced that they have arrived. Her curiosity piqued, she eagerly peeped through the car window… and her jaw literally dropped as the Legacy House came into view at last.

Admittedly, calling it simply a house would have been the understatement of the century. It was a manor, at the very least – or rather a castle, taken from a fairy tale.

Or from one of Henry’s graphic novels.

Nick had clearly gauged her reaction because he was now grinning in satisfaction as he drove up to the front gate. Somebody had to be watching the entrance, as the gate opened automatically at their approach, letting them through without Nick having to slow down. He pulled up the car to what seemed to be a parking lot and lifted Coreen’s suitcases out of the booth.

“Let’s go,” he said.

But Coreen was unable to move from the spot; she was too busy gaping in awe. If the House was impressive from the distance, it was nothing short breath-taking from up close. There clearly had been some serious renovations lately, but the old structure and the new additions were blending together perfectly, without one taking over the other.

“It is amazing,” she muttered. “I see why Doctor Sagara thought it would match my style.”

Nick took in her outfit with a quick glance, as if he had just noticed aforementioned style for the first time – and grinned.

“Let’s hope you won’t shock Derek out of his mind,” he said. “Well, come with me. I’ll show you your rooms, and then you can meet the others.”

He led Coreen up multiple staircases and along several corridors, carrying her suitcases without visible effort all the time, until they reached what must have been a guest suite of some sort. It was twice as big as her flat in Toronto had been, and it consisted of a spacious living room with a separate working niche, a bedroom with a walk-in closet and an ensuite bathroom. There was even a small kitchenette on the other side of the working niche, just large enough for a sink and a coffee maker.

But the living area was the best in the whole thing. There was a huge window opposite the front door, offering a spectacular view at the entire San Francisco Bay, with its boats and lights.

It was fantastic.

“That was exactly what I thought when I saw the House for the first time,” Nick grinned, and Coreen blushed, realizing she’d spoken out her impression loudly. “Just wait ‘til you’ve seen the rest of it. Do you want to freshen up a bit first? The others are waiting in the library, but five minutes more won’t count.”

Coreen welcomed the chance of a quick cat wash, then reapplied her make-up and followed Nick to the library where the people with whom she was going to spend the next couple of years (or perhaps more) were waiting.

She only hoped she would make a good first impression.

~The End~

Soledad Cartwright @ 12. 06. 2022

Kindred Spirits, Part 9

wiseheart — Thu, 09 Jun 2022 17:06:40 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

Author’s notes: Lady Heather and her assistant feature in my story “The Toreador Chronicles”. Lady Heather has been borrowed from the original CSI, and the Goth girl is, of course, Abby Sciuto from NCIS. :)

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Nine

To say that Vicki was shocked by Coreen’s decision to move to San Francisco in a relatively short time would have been an understatement. Although she would never admit, not even to herself, Coreen had become for her like the little sister she had never had. Losing the Goth girl as a co-worker and a friend proved unexpectedly hard.

Especially for someone with abandonment issues.

“As if losing more of my eyesight with each passing year wouldn’t be bad enough, I’m losing the few people I really care for, too,” she muttered bitterly.

“I am going to miss her, too,” a familiar voice said. In her misery she had obviously missed to notice Henry’s arrival.

“But you agree with her decision, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question; Henry would have fought Doctor Sagara in this, had he disagreed.

“I do,” he admitted. “Bettie is right: she’s become vulnerable due to her being obsessed by Astaroth. She needs to be with people who can protect her.

“We could protect her,” Vicki insisted, but Henry shook his head.

“I hate to remind you, Victoria, but that didn’t work so splendidly last time. The Legacy people are trained to deal with such things; and they’ll be able to train her as well.”

“While sitting on top of their hellgate? How is that safe?”

“It is their job to keep the hellgate closed,” Henry pointed out. “Because they can. And Coreen will find her true calling there; of that I am quite certain.”

“You mean she’s wasting her time with me?” Vicki asked, not quite able to keep the hurt feelings out of her voice; a fact that made her wince. She hated showing any weakness, even in front of Henry.

Especially in front of Henry, if she wanted to be honest.

Henry shook his head. “No; she did important work, doing all the research for you. But…”

“But in a few years I’ll be blind anyway and won’t be able to employ her anymore,” Vicki finished for him bitterly. “No need to walk on eggshells around me; I’m well aware of that little detail. And don’t start again about me going with you to Vancouver. I know you mean well, but I’ve got a much better chance to manage in an environment that I know inside and out.”

For several endless moments Henry fell silent.

“I’m not moving to Vancouver,” he finally said. “Not yet anyway; not for quite a few decades.”

Vicki gave him a suspicious glare. “Oh? And what has changed your mind?”

“Not what; who,” Henry admitted. “Bettie had words with me; words that made me understand what a fool I’d be to leave right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Astaroth might be gone, but you’re quite the lodestone for the supernatural. So, as long as you’re still taking cases, you’ll need a partner; more so now with Coreen leaving.”

“I don’t need your pity; or your charity!” Vicki’s eyes flashed with anger but Henry remained unimpressed by that short display of tempers.

“Good, because I’m not offering either of those. But you used to call me your partner; and if you really meant it, then I am honour-bound to keep up my side of the partnership, as long as your agency is still in business. That is what partners do, isn’t it?”

“And if I can’t work anymore?”

“Then we’ll re-negotiate the terms of our partnership,” he took her hand and kissed it in that old-fashioned manner he used whenever he was discussing something really important. “Please, Victoria, let me do this for you. I can afford the time; it isn’t so as if I’d grow any older.”

“But I will!”

“So what? Do you think my friendship with Bettie has become any less just because she got older?”

The answer to that was so obvious that Vicki stopped arguing.

“I’m still vindicating the right to change my mind later,” was all she said.

Henry gave her a brilliant smile.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he said. “Well then, do we have a deal?”

“For now.”

“Excellent. Have you got any plans for tonight? Save for a healthy amount of sleep, which you won’t have anyway?”

“Not really. Any suggestions?”

“We could go and have a late dinner. Well… late for you.”

“You don’t even eat!”

“But you do. And I can always have some wine and pretend. And afterwards we could go and see that new, idiotic vampire movie that’s all over the cinemas.”

“You just want to mock them for everything they got wrong.”

“Is it my fault that they get everything wrong?”

Vicki shook her head in tolerant amusement. On the one hand Henry was right, of course. So far every vampire movie they had watched together was rubbish, compared with reality. On the other hand, those poor movie-makers didn’t have the chance to learn about vampire reality. Only a chosen few had access to sources like the Internet Demon Database, and those knew better than make the facts listed there public knowledge.

“All right,” she said. “Let’s go. It’s rather funny to listen to your comments; better than the actual movie anyway, and I can use a good giggle or two.”

“Just like in old times,” Henry agreed and went to fetch her coat.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Meanwhile in Los Angeles an unusual package was being delivered from a little known private airport to La Lune Rouge, a fairly exclusive BDSM and fetish club, frequented by both mortal and undead clientele. Only wealthy and carefully selected ones from both sides.

One didn’t become a customer at La Lune Rouge without very good connections. Lady Heather, the owner and mistress of the club, was known for her expertise and absolute discretion. And while her receptionist, a spunky little Goth girl, liked to talk a mile a minute, the man who would learn anything useful from her constant babbling had to be born – or Embraced – yet.

All this was common knowledge among the Kindred of the City of Angels, and also the fact that both Lady Heather and her establishment were under the protection of the Prince. Such a status would be highly sought after in any Domain; but being under the protection of Angelus meant that even the Sabbat would think twice before as much as entertaining the thought of harming her. Besides, she dwelt within the Prince’s personal Domain, which was as safe as any place in a free Anarch city could be.

Consequently, Lady Heather was known and respected for her status and her skills and counted as a minor celebrity among the undead as well as in the BDSM scene. The two Brujah thugs entrusted with the delivery were understandably surprised when they learned that the package contained a sex doll. La Lune Rouge might have been a fetish club, but it was a high-class one, and such things were simply beneath Lady Heather’s refined style.

“Perhaps one of her customers asked for it,” one of the thugs said doubtfully, while ringing the bell at the back door.

As the club was currently open, they had to get the package into the building discreetly.

The door flung open and out looked the Goth girl, wearing a black leather corset, knee-high black boots and latex shorts that more than deserved that name. She had a beehive hairdo with fake spiders in it, spider webs tattooed all over her neck, and dramatic eye make-up for more effect.

“Yes?” She asked.

“Delivery for Lady Heather,” the thug said. “It comes directly from Toronto.”

The Goth girl nodded. “Yeah, I know. Alonzo has just called. Come with me!”

She led them down a narrow spiral staircase to some sort of vault in the basement. The room was large and empty, save for a slab of black marble in the middle, making the two Brujah wonder what its true purpose might be.

“Just put it down here,” she said. “We’ll find a proper place for it later.”

The thugs did as they were told, pocketed their tip and left. The girl – Lady Heather’s personal slave, ghoul and blood doll, all in one, and permanently nineteen for at least thirty years – opened the lid of the box to check on the seemingly dead young woman lying inside.

“She’s undamaged, milady,” she said to her Domitor who had been there, hiding among the shadows, without the thugs realizing it. “Are we leaving her here until her permanent… err… quarters are prepared?”

Lady Heather nodded, looking down at her Brood sister with a curious mix of pity and disdain on her unnaturally pale face. “No-one will be able to enter here without my consent. The place has been warded.”

“Why do we need another place for her then?” The Goth girl wondered.

“She’s going to stay with us for a long time,” Lady Heather replied. “We need to make sure she won’t be discovered by accident, in case someone proved immune against the wards,” she closed the lid with a firm hand. “Go upstairs now and keep an eye on things for me. I’ve got a special appointment in Playroom #4 in ten minutes and won’t be available for at least an hour.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In a different area of Los Angeles Mother Verena was sitting with Father Callaghan in the sacristy of the parish church consecrated to The Nine Choirs of Angels. The only other person present was old Sister Maura: a truly ancient nun who had already served in the church during Father Frederick’s times and witnessed the old priest’s grisly death at the hands of a demon. She had an uncanny ability to recognize vampires and demons in human disguise and wasn’t easily frightened.

As for Father Callaghan, he had seen things while with the San Francisco Legacy House that provided him with nightmares for the rest of his life. Therefore he wasn’t one to panic easily; and the right person to look for the spiritual needs of a small convent of nuns dedicated to fight evil most people – even most priests – did no longer believe to exist.

“So, was it indeed Astaroth himself?” he asked.

Mother Verena nodded. “There can be no doubt. It’s sad that we couldn’t save Father Cascioli, though. He was a decent man, or so I am told.”

“Used to work for the Montreal House as a freelancer, too,” Father Callaghan supplied. “But he shouldn’t have tried an exorcism when full of doubt about himself. Doing that usually ends badly.”

“It wasn’t himself he ought to be certain of,” Mother Verena pointed out. “We are merely conduits for divine power; nothing more and nothing less.”

“He felt unworthy,” Father Callaghan, not a stranger to such feelings himself, said quietly.

Mother Verena shrugged. “And rightly so. No-one of us is worthy; that is not the point.”

“What is the point, then?” Father Callaghan asked.

“To open ourselves to God and let Him do the work,” Mother Verena answered simply.

For quite some time the priest remained quiet, trying to accept that.

“Tell me what happened,” he finally said.

Mother Verena did as she was asked, and the priest and the ancient nun listened with a curious mix of horror and fascination. When she was done, they all fell silent for a long while again.

“What do you intend to do with this knowledge,” the priest then asked.

“Nothing,” Mother Verena replied promptly. “I think I’ll need to go into seclusion for a few days to come to terms with all that happened. During that time I’ll write a detailed report for Pope Shenuda; he needs to know. But no-one else, save those who were part of the events. People are just not ready for such knowledge; if they will ever be, which I doubt.”

“Not in this life, most of them aren’t,” old Sister Maura said quietly. “But we ought to tell our sisters. This is their fight, too.”

Mother Verena nodded. “Agreed. Especially as I need Sister Ingrid to put in a good word for somebody by her brother. And you, too, Father.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Derek Rayne, Precept of the recently rebuilt San Francisco Legacy House, stared at the computer screen with something akin to a shock.

“You want me to do what?” His Dutch accent thickened, as always when under stress.

The old lady on the other end of the connection rolled her eyes. “I didn’t know that your ordeal has ruined your hearing, too, Doctor Rayne. Besides, I’ve sent you the recommendation – together with all the necessary facts – in an encrypted e-mail days ago. Haven’t you read it?”

“I have. I just can’t believe that you’d want me to accept a Goth girl as a member of this House; and one that was just recently possessed by a demon.”

“Why not?” Doctor Sagara asked sharply. “She’s bright, she’s good with computers, she’s more than aware of the risks – and she won’t be able to lead a mundane life again, after all she’s been through in the last two years. You need people who can work for you, and she needs a place where her experiences can be both useful and accepted as the truth. And she’ll need guidance to deal with them; guidance hat you can provide.”

“Rachel would be better suited…” Derek began, but Doctor Sagara cut him off.

“The girl doesn’t need a shrink, especially not one who’s way too preoccupied with her own problems. She needs a father figure who’s made the same experiences. You’ll do just fine; and she’ll be able to replace Alex, once she’s gained a bit more knowledge. I’ll pull a few strings to get her transferred to the university in San Francisco, and perhaps Alex will be able to come from time to time and show her the ropes.”

As Derek didn’t answer at once, she added impatiently. “Oh, come on, you know you’re understaffed! How many people do you have in the House right now?”

“Well, Alex is here at the moment…”

“Who’ll have to return to Los Angeles, sooner rather than later…”

“And Rachel and Kat are also visiting.”

“Visiting being the key word. They belong to Sunnydale now and will have to go back eventually. Who’s still there permanently?”

“From the old team just Nick,” Derek admitted reluctantly. “And we have a new member – a clairvoyant, named Jeffrey Starr – who’s being tutored to take over part of Alex’s duties.”

“Meaning that you have only two permanent members, one of whom is a newbie,” Doctor Sagara summarized. “Mother Verena and I have found you an excellent candidate, but you hesitate to accept her, just because she’s a Goth? Really, Doctor Rayne, based on past experience I expected you to be more reasonable!”

“She’s right, you know,” Nick commented, when the annoyed Doctor Sagara broke the connection. “We can’t run the House just between the two of us and keep an eye on Jeffrey, so that he won’t mess up things. We both know he does have the tendency to do that. Alex won’t be able to stay here infinitely, and even if Rachel could prolong her stay, she is no researcher. She couldn’t take of for Alex, too.”

“But a scatter-brained Goth girl could?” Derek asked doubtfully.

“She’s been doing it for more than a year,” Nick pointed out reasonably. “And she’s seen things that bump in the night up and close; including being possessed by a demon.”

“That’s the part that concerns me most.”

“She didn’t ask for it, Derek; you’ve read Doctor Sagara’s report, haven’t you? Granted, she’s made mistakes, but which one of us has not? And at least her intentions were good.”

“The way to Hell is paved with good intentions,” Derek groused.

“Which is why she needs supervision; and a safe place to live,” Nick argued. “We can provide both; and we can use her for the work we do. It is a win-win situation, if you ask me.”

“I don’t.”

“Too bad; I’ll tell you anyway. And I think if both Doctor Sagara and Mother Verena vouch for the girl, not accepting her because of your prejudices would be stupid; and unfair. After all, you still are working with Alex, despite what she’s become.”

“That’s different.”

“Yes, it is. Alex is now a ghoul who needs to drink vampire blood to continue her existence. The girl is still human; and we can help her to remain one. I don’t think we can afford not to do so.”

Against that Derek couldn’t find any fitting argument, and he knew that both Alex and Philip would agree with Nick. Rachel probably wouldn’t, but he’d learned long ago to take Rachel’s opinions with a healthy amount of doubts. So he reluctantly sent Doctor Sagara’s protégée the invitation to come for a visit… for starters.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Do you think they’ll accept her for good?” Piper wondered.

Prue shrugged. “If their Precept is really as smart as he’s said to be, he’ll see the advantage of such an arrangement… eventually.”

“I hope so,” Piper said. “Otherwise Master Nahir would have to make his move sooner rather than later, and Coreen is by no means ready for that yet.”

“He won’t be making any moves in that direction for a while,” Prue replied grimly. “He has decided to go into torpor for a while. Apparently, the… encounter in Toronto had shaken him to the bone. He said he’ll need to regain his inner balance. We are to take in both Paige and Roderick for the foreseeable future.”

Which was only logical, of course. The two ghouls would need vampire blood from time to time, or else they’d start aging rapidly and die in record time. And not just any vampire blood; only that of Nahir or someone else from his bloodline would do. As his Childer, Prue and Piper certainly qualified.

“What is supposed to happen with the mansion, though?” Piper asked with a frown.

Personally, she preferred to stay in their home, especially as it was built over a nexus of mystic energies and thus provided them with additional strength. But Nahir’s house was the official coven of their undead family and shouldn’t be left unprotected.

“Olivier is coming up from LA in a few weeks,” Prue explained. “He’ll stay as long as Master Nahir needs to be in torpor; to watch over the house… and to guard our Sire if necessary.”

Piper pulled a face. She didn’t like Nahir’s oldest surviving Childe – and eight-hundred-plus-year-old French knight – all too much. Neither of them did. Granted, Olivier was old and strong, not to mention almost devastatingly handsome… but not an easy person to deal with. Nahir, of course, could rein him in, and so could Heather, but the Halliwell sisters were still very young in Kindred terms, and Olivier never missed any chance to remind them of that.

“Paige will be happy not to live under the same roof with him,” Piper said. “He acted like a prick when she was still in training.”

“He is a prick,” Prue commented sourly, “but he’s also the eldest of our generation; and he’s available. Heather can’t leave LA for any extended period of time… unfortunately.”

“Does the Prince know about this?” Piper had good reason to worry. Smuggling a Lasombra – even an Antitribu – into a tightly controlled Camarilla city without the Prince’s consent would have been suicidal… to put it mildly.

Prue nodded. “Master Nahir gave him the… err… edited report of recent events. Fortunately, Julian is a Catholic, and so was deeply impressed by our encounter with an actual angel. Our Sire vouched for Olivier and that he’d stick to the rules of the Camarilla.”

“And if he won’t?”

“Then we are to interfere.”

“Are you kidding? He’s much older and more powerful than the three of us together!”

“As a vampire perhaps. But we still have the Power of Three.”

“And you think that will be enough?” Piper didn’t even try to hide her doubts.

Prue shrugged again. “So far it always has been. And I for my part am looking forward to train Paige properly in witchcraft. Being Master Nahir’s personal slave has held her back from her true calling. And who knows, having to fend for himself for the first time might even force Roderick to grow a pair. He’s such a wet noodle it isn’t even funny! Without grovelling at the Master’s feet he could become a man under our tutelage.”

Piper looked at her older sister with a mix of pride and fond exasperation. In the few short years as a vampire, Prue had already become more determined and powerful than either of them would have expected. There could be no doubt that she would take over the leading of the San Francisco coven eventually, regardless if Master Nahir chose to remain in the States or go back to England.

And if the Master chose to return to his long-time home once he woke up from torpor, he would doubtlessly take Roderick with him. And then the Charmed Ones would remain among themselves, guarding San Francisco against the many faces of evil… only with considerably greater powers at their disposal than in their mortal days.

Piper found that she could live with that.

Kindred Spirits, Part 8

wiseheart — Thu, 10 Mar 2022 17:03:44 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

Author’s notes: I’ve taken considerable creative freedom concerning Clan Lasombra compared with White Wolfe canon. May all game-players forgive me and take the big, honking AU label under consideration.

Canonically the New York Legacy House was undermined by vampires (no distinction in P:tL canon) and destroyed. Dr. Sagara being a former member of it is my doing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Eight

Nahir came to with a blinding headache, a sore jaw – and a ravenous hunger. Fortunately, Piper had counted on that and prepared several bottles of bloodwine for him – with a rather small percentage of actual wine. After having emptied the first bottle his headache receded and he felt more like himself again.

“What happened?” he asked. “I remember encountering Astaroth, but after that everything is a bit of a blur.”

“You released the Living Darkness on the demon but lost control,” Piper summarized for him. “Prue knocked you out cold and stuffed the Darkness back into you. Don’t ask me how she did it because I have no idea. But she did break your jawbone in the process.”

Nahir probed his jaw. It still hurt a little but otherwise felt mostly all right.

“I’ve healed you while you were out,” Piper added.

Nahir nodded his understanding. “Thank you. What’s next?”

“Prue is resting,” Piper counted down things on her fingers. “Henry called Doctor Sagara and asked her to fetch her friend, the nun. He’s out for dinner right now, but when he comes back we’ll all go to that church they chose and perform the ritual.”

“What about the mortal women?”

“Well, Miss Nelson has to come with us or else Astaroth might come to her instead of to us. Henry insists that Miss Fennel should stay here, though, with Doctor Sagara.”

“That would be the best,” Nahir agreed. “She couldn’t help us in any way, save for offering the demon another potential victim.”

“Assuming she’ll listen,” Piper said dryly. “She’s a headstrong girl; and she has her personal grievances concerning Astaroth.”

“She is quite extraordinary,” Nahir allowed. “And she is truly wasted here. With her knowledge and experience when it comes to the supernatural she would be an asset for the San Francisco Legacy House.”

Piper looked at her Sire in surprise. “I thought you’d say for our family.”

Nahir shook his head. “Not yet. Not for a long time; perhaps never. Which is a shame, as she would make a beautiful Childe. One day, maybe… or not. But she won’t fit in with the mundane mortal life anymore; and she won’t be able to work for Miss Nelson much longer. The woman is losing her eyesight, slowly but inevitably. Soon she won’t be able to run her detective agency; and Miss Fennel won’t be able to do that on her own.”

“While as a member of the Legacy she could be eminently useful,” Piper began to see Nahir’s point. “The San Francisco House is short at least one researcher, and Doctor Rayne could serve as a mentor and a father figure she’d so sorely need. Unless she and the brat kill each other, she’d fit in nicely.”

“Fortunately, Kat Corrigan has left for Sunnydale, together with her mother,” Nahir reminded her. “They won’t return for a while yet. Miss Fennel could establish a solid presence in their absence.”

“Even if she’s willing to move half across the continent, how are you selling her to the Legacy?” Piper asked doubtfully. “They might work with you from the distance, since most of them have no idea who – and what – you really are, but you won’t be able to keep your true nature veiled from Doctor Rayne face to face. He’s met – and fought – our kind too often.”

“I don’t have to,” Nahir shrugged. “I’ll discuss the matter With Doctor Sagara and ask her to make the suggestion. She’s still a Legacy member, at least on paper.”

“Yeah, but will she do it?”

“I believe that she will. She listens to Mr. Fitzroy, and Mr. Fitzroy is very protective of the girl. They both know how vulnerable Miss Fennel has become to demonic influences, due to the recent events. And at least Doctor Sagara knows that a Legacy House would be the safest place for her.”

“Especially the San Francisco House, where we can keep an eye on her,” Piper agreed. “This could actually work; and if you’ll still want to Embrace her in a few years’ time, she’d be within your reach.”

“Exactly,” Nahir drank some more bloodwine and stood, now with all his wits and powers about him. “But we’ll have to deal with Astaroth first. Let’s wake up your sister and see if our little prince has returned.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As expected, Coreen protested doggedly against being left behind. Not that she’d want to encounter Astaroth again but because she felt it was her duty to help vanquish him, as the Halliwell sisters put it. Whatever that might mean. But both Vicki and Henry agreed that she couldn’t do anything save for unnecessarily endanger herself, and in the end Henry simply used his suggestive powers to put her to sleep.

Doctor Sagara promised to watch over her. As much as she, too, hated the idea of letting her old friend face such mortal danger with just a handful of strangers at her side, she understood that her presence would be a distraction. And distraction was something Mother Verena could not afford.

They took both Henry’s car and Nahir’s rental to get to the church. The nun chose to go with Vicki and Henry. As she explained, she could feel the Darkness still roiling under the surface within Nahir, shielding herself against if cost her more energy she could afford to waste right now.

Both Vicki and Henry were unusually tense and getting more so the closer they came to the church. Neither of them had fond memories of the place; and the memories they did have were still too vivid for their comfort. If the nun noticed their reaction, she gave no sigh of doing so.

“It is always sad to see a church robbed of its true purpose,” was her only comment, “but doing this on sacred ground will be of our advantage.”

“Besides, it is a secluded area, so no bystanders will be caught in the middle of the struggle,” Vicki replied. “And you really believe that Astaroth will sense us and follow?”

“Oh, he will, don’t worry about that,” the nun said. “We have the amulet with us; and we have you – both things he wants and needs. He will come. And then we’ll have to do our part, regardless of the consequences.”

“Aren’t you scared?” Vicki wondered as Henry parked his car and they climbed out of it.

“Terrified,” the nun confessed. “The demons we deal with in LA are mostly the simple, garden-variety of the species. Facing an actual fallen angel is a different can of worms.”

“But you’re gonna do it nonetheless…” Vicki couldn’t help being impressed. She’d seen what Astaroth was capable of.

“I’m not the one who’s doing it,” the nun corrected. “I’m just the conduit. The strength comes from God.”

“And from His warrior angels, if I’ve understood the role of the amulet correctly,” Henry secured the car. "Shall we?”

“The role of the amulet is still mostly guesswork on our part,” the nun said. “I hope Professor Martin is right about it, but we cannot be certain. Not until we’ve tried. It’s better to expect being on our own than count on something that might not work, after all.”

They reached the church, the front door of which was still sealed off with police tape, having been a crime scene not so long ago.

“How are we getting in?” The nun asked. “We need to prepare the place before he arrives… and our time is running out.”

“I’ve got the key,” Vicki took it from her pocket. “Duck under the tape; we don’t want the police to know that somebody has entered the crime scene. They don’t like it.”

“May I ask ho you’ve acquired the key?” Henry inquired. “I doubt that they’d simply hand it to you for old times’ sake.”

“I can be persuasive if I put my mind to it,” Vicki said loftily.

Henry gave her a doubtful look, and she shrugged.

“Okay, so I played the guilt card against Mike. Happy now?”

“About as happy as Celluci might have been,” Henry muttered.

Ignoring him, Vicki opened the church for them, and they entered – including the three Lasombra vampires. It was almost entirely dark inside, with only some emergency lights on above the various side doors, but even so, the destruction of the interior was visible.

“Somebody has thoroughly thrashed this place,” Prue commented, taking a look around.

“Well, try being starved and tortured by a madman for days and you won’t have much control, either,” Henry returned, somewhat coldly; then he looked at the nun. “You spoke about preparation. What do we need to do?”

The nun opened her bag and took out three large, white candles.

“Place these in a perfect triangle and lit them,” then, when it was done, she handed him a piece of chalk and took one for herself. “Now you need to draw a circle within this triangle, so that it will touch the imaginary sides of the triangle at the exact middle of each side.”

“And what will you be doing?” Henry asked, starting the outline of the required circle without delay.

“I’ll draw the holy symbols in each point of the triangle, so that the demon won’t be able to escape,” the nun was already doing so. “Then I can start the incantation.”

“That has to be tricky,” Piper said. “Do you have a copy to check if you’re getting it right?”

The nun shook her head. “Those words are too powerful to have them written down. The danger of them landing in the wrong hands is too grave. The few of us consecrated for such tasks had to learn them by heart.”

“And you really believe that some primitive old spell would enable you to control me?” a cruel, mocking voice spoke in a short distance from them.

They turned around as one and looked at the ravaged body of Father Cascioli, whose eyes were now glowing red, revealing the growing power of the demon inside him.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Astaroth came closer “A nun, in league with the creatures of Darkness, trying to take my chosen Vessel from me. Are you really so naïve that you believe you stand a chance?”

“I know I don’t,” the nun replied calmly. “But God does,” she glanced at Henry. “Finish the circle and leave the rest to me.”

“I seriously doubt that God would interfere,” Astaroth commented mockingly. “After all, he didn’t move a finger to save the poor priest from me. Besides, you time has just run out.”

He suddenly charged at them with superhuman speed, aiming directly at the nun. Piper instinctively snapped her fingers, freezing him for a moment – barely long enough for Henry to finish the circle and trap the demon inside. Nahir stepped in front of the nun, protecting her with his own body.

In the next moment Astaroth broke through Piper’s freezing spell, grabbed Nahir by the throat and threw him away like a rag doll, raking his chest with suddenly appearing claws deeper than anyone – even a millennia-old vampire – could hope to survive. Nahir landed on the ground with a heavy thump. He could feel his bones break and saw the amulet, having slipped from his pocket, in the middle of the circle.

“Now!” He hissed to the nun. “Finish what we started!”

The nun nodded crisply and began chanting in a language no-one of them had heard before. Prue assumed it had to be Coptic, considering who – or rather what – she was. But frankly, it could have been any other ancient language; they wouldn’t notice the difference.

To their shocked surprise, though, Mother Verena’s voice changed in the middle of the incantation. It became ringing and powerful like a multitude of silver bells, and her eyes began to shine with a blinding white light. All four vampires covered their eyes instinctively, and even Vicki had to look to the side to protect what was still there from her eyesight.

Astaroth howled horribly as the light, like thick ropes of living energy, extended from the nun’s eyes and slammed into his body.

“Begone, thief,” Mother Verena ordered, still in that strange, almost… alien voice, and held up her hand. More light or energy or whatever came from her fingers, lifting Astaroth from the ground. The demon was writing in agony, held captive by the light. “Back with you to the Outer Darkness, where you belong, forever and ever!”

Astaroth howled and struggled. Vicki’s marks flared with fire; the pain was sheer unbearable. The air reeked of sulphur and tar. Then, all of a sudden, it was over. Everything went quiet and Father Cascioli’s body fell limply to the ground.

The nun, her eyes still luminous white, stepped to Nahir and laid a hand upon his chest.

“It has been a long time, hasn’t it, best beloved?” she said, still in that strangely beautiful voice. “Thirteen thousand years since you guarded the walls of the Eanna Temple. You never truly believed that we would meet face to face one day, did you?”

Nahir stared up at her in stunned disbelief. “I – Inanna?”

“That is how your people named me, mistaking me for something I never was,” the smile upon the nun’s face was loving and beautiful beyond endurance. “Others, who met me later on, called me Raphael, although that is not my true name, either,” she stroke her hand over Nahir’s chest, healing the worst damage. “I knew you were still walking the Earth; the last and only one from before the Great Flood. But I could not come to you. Your new nature couldn’t have borne it. My touch would have burned you to ashes.”

“How comes that I doesn’t do so now?”

“Because I am not touching you directly. “I have merged with Mother Verena to force my fallen brother back to where he belongs. But I cannot stay long; this Vessel won’t contain me but for a short time.”

She let go of Nahir and picked up the amulet.

“After all those ages, this has still fulfilled its purpose,” she said in wonder. “I shall withdraw my power from it now, so that no-one can use it for their own goals. You can keep it as a reminder of your mortal past; or send it to the Legacy House as planned. It shall make no difference,” she handed the amulet to Nahir, and then turned to Vicki. “Give me your hands, child.”

Tentatively, Vicki held out her arms, with the palms upturned, and the nun grasped her wrists with hands that were burning hot. It felt as if somebody had laid glowing embers on her skin; it hurt so much that she screamed in agony. But when the nun let go of her, the marks were gone. Her skin was hale and unblemished once again.

“I must leave now,” Inanna, Raphael, or whoever the warrior angel occupying Mother Verena’s body truly was, announced. “We shan’t meet again; not as long as you are still alive,” she looked down at Nahir one last time. “But remember, best beloved: no-one is damned for what they are; everything depends on what they do with the life they are given.”

She held the amulet in both hands in front of her. The… thing started glowing, first red, then white, then there was a flash of blinding light shooting skywards from it… and then nothing, just the dim emergency light of the church surrounding them. Even the ritual candles were blown out.

Prue and Piper hurried to their Sire. Despite the touch of the angel healing him to a certain extent, he was still in a really bad shape. Being the older and stronger of them (at least in vampire terms), Prue hurriedly offered him her wrist and let him feed on her as long as it seemed safe. Then she switched places with Piper. With joint effort, they managed to get Nahir back onto his feet – even though those feet were currently more than just a little wobbly.

Vicki and Henry, in the meantime, checked on Mother Verena who was slowly coming to as well.

“How are you feeling?” Henry asked worriedly. “It must have been… I can’t even imagine what it must have been like. I never knew one could be possessed by an angel, too.”

“I wasn’t possessed,” the nun corrected tiredly. “I’ve opened myself to serve as a conduit for divine power, and God decided to send one of His angels to act through me. Still, it was a strange experience; one that I hope I won’t have to repeat any time soon.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is too much for a mere mortal to endure. We’re not meant to be touched by an angel directly,” she sighed and fell silent for a moment. “Do you know the Duino Elegies by Rainer Maria Rilke?” she then asked.

Henry shook his head.

“You should read them and meditate over them. In the First Elegy, Rilke writes: For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we still are just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains to annihilate us. Every angel is terrifying. That about sums up my experience. But at least we have won… even if due to divine interference.”

“And Toronto is safe again, at least where Astaroth is concerned,” Vicki added. “God knows we humans make it a dangerous enough place, even without demons running amok.”

“Amen,” Henry said.

Then he went over to Father Cascioli’s body to see if the priest was still alive. Not that he’d have put his hopes high about that. Having seen the disfigurement of the body and what they had seen of Astaroth’s methods so far it was highly unlikely. Still, he had been a friend in whose fate Henry hadn’t been entirely innocent, so this was the least he could do.

As expected, he found the priest dead. Surprisingly enough, he looked human again; like an emaciated, used up human. Astaroth must have drained all his energy; but he looked peaceful. As someone ought to, who had gone through a terrible ordeal and was finally allowed to rest.

An autopsy would probably come up with natural causes, like multiple organ failure or something like that. Not that Henry would allow an autopsy to happen. Father Raymond had already been violated enough. No; he’d take the body to the cemetery and lay it to rest in the crypt of the Cascioli family.

He decided to do this at once, apologizing by the nun for the delay. She didn’t seem to mind, though.

“I still have here some of the holy water from Jerusalem,” she said. “We can use it to sprinkle his body, since a proper funeral won’t be possible, considering the circumstances. Once I’m back in LA I shall ask Father Callaghan to celebrate the Mass of the Dead for him. Until then we can still pry.”

“And we will,” Henry promised. Then he turned to Vicki. “Would you mind going with Professor Martin and his family? I’m sure Bettie and Coreen are anxious for news.”

“Which we could easily provide via phone call,” Vicki muttered but did as she was asked nonetheless, since she would have been of little use anyway.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It was well after midnight when they all gathered at Henry’s place again; all except the nun, of course, whom he had taken back to the Holy Theotokos Convent before returning home. Coreen and Doctor Sagara were relieved, of course, when they learned that it was over, and – after having fed copiously – Nahir was going through a speedy recovery and planning to leave Toronto in two days’ time.

“It’s high time for us to go home,” he said. “We’re running out of bottled supplies, and I don’t like to leave my ghouls to fend for themselves for too long. As soon as we’ve taken care of Phoebe, we shall leave, too.”

“And how are you gonna do it?” Vicki asked. “Put her into a coffin like in some old Bela Lugosi movie?”

“Nothing so gauche,” Prue replied; it was hard to decide if she was joking or not. “We live in the twenty-first century, too.”

They clearly didn’t want to tell more, so Vicki reluctantly gave up. Henry for his part suspected that the life-sized box without the actual sex doll in it that had been delivered to his address during the day (much to Gregory’s shock, whom he had to make forget about the delivery) had to do something with it, but wisely chose not to ask.

Besides, it wasn’t his business how they removed the unstable vampires from his place; as long as they did it, as soon as possible,

There was one thing he wanted to know, though.

“Why did Mother Verena tell you that no-one is damned because of what they are?” he asked Nahir.

“It is a firm belief among Kindred that we are damned by default,” Nahir replied. “Our Clan even delights in that belief and considers it a justification for all sorts of horrible deeds. I never agreed with my Clan brethren about that; and now I’m glad to know that I was right.”

Henry shrugged. “I could have told you that from the beginning.”

“You are an anomaly,” Nahir said. “In all my millennia, I never met a vampire with such strong faith. Were I not older than Christianity as a whole, I might even envy you.”

“That is odd, coming from somebody who used to serve an archangel in his mortal days,” Henry commented.

“My mortal self served an imaginary goddess who had very little to do with the being that spoke to me through Mother Verena,” Nahir corrected. “And I’ve ceased to believe in her when my city was destroyed by the Great Flood and I got Embraced.”

“And yet she acknowledged you as one of her own,” Henry frowned for a moment. “Or should that be his own?”

“Neither… or both, I guess,” Nahir replied. “It was an unsettling experience, in any case. I’ll have to meditate about it for a long time to come.”

“You and me both,” Henry said. “Well, the night is almost over; I’ll have to retire, soon. Bettie, do you want me to give you a lift home first?”

“Actually, if Doctor Sagara doesn’t mind, I’d like to do that,” Nahir offered. “There’s a Legacy-related issue that I need to discuss with her before we part ways.”

Doctor Sagara seemed a bit surprised by the offer but agreed nonetheless, and the two of them left together. Henry then managed to persuade Vicki and Coreen to stay for the rest of the night.

“That way you can have a little more sleep before opening the office again,” he argued, and Vicki reluctantly agreed. So they, too, returned to their guest apartment, which left Henry with the Halliwell sisters.

“What about you?” He asked.

“We’ll have to prepare Phoebe for her trip to LA,” Prue replied for both of them. “She’ll be shipped out tomorrow.”

Henry imagined being put into a box like a lifeless doll and shuddered; not the least because he had travelled in a similar condition a couple of times, too.”

“For how long?”

Prue sighed. “We don’t know. Decades, most likely. Perhaps even longer.”

Henry didn’t know how to react to that. His kind couldn’t co-exist with other vampires, but he knew it was different for Kindred. Besides, these three were sisters; a connection that reached back to their mortal past.

“At least you can afford the time to wait,” he finally offered, somewhat lamely.

“That is by no means certain,” Prue answered grimly. “You see, we have been Embraced to help defend San Francisco against demonic invasions. Because we can; used to do it already in our mortal days. You think Astaroth was bad? You’re right, he was. But we’ve got a hellgate in San Francisco; a hellgate that we need to keep closed by any means necessary. Because if we can’t, there’s no telling what might slip through.”

“Actually, there is,” Piper commented dryly. “We’re still dealing with the remains of all that has come through in the few years while the hellgate was unguarded.”

“In any case, there are no guarantees that we’ll in fact still be around when Phoebe wakes up,” Prue added. “Even though we might have a better chance as vampires than we used to have as mortals.”

“So we better say farewell to our sister now, just in case,” Piper finished for her.

To that Henry didn’t really have an answer; and besides, sunrise was coming closer, and he had to feed yet. So he left the sisters to their preparations and headed towards the nearest night club.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Due to the nature of the True Undead, Henry could not witness Phoebe’s departure on the next day. Vicki, however, insisted on being present when the transport box (originally meant for a life-sized sex doll) was loaded into a transport van and taken to the airport. Strictly seen she had no right to go with them, this being a family affair, but the Lasombra vampires knew how protective she was of Henry and understood that she needed to make sure Phoebe won’t present any more danger for him.

“We are not your enemies,” Prue said. “Not yet anyway; but try to understand that we, too, will go great lengths to protect each other.”

“And we have the means to do so,” Piper added, casually freezing a group of teenagers on inline skaters mid-run, just to demonstrate her meaning.

Vicki stared at her in shock. “What have you done to them?”

“Nothing that would harm them,” Piper released the teenagers, who skated on, without realizing what had happened. “Believe or not, we’re the good guys. But we don’t react well to one of us being threatened.”

“I wasn’t the one who started it,” Vicki riposted.

“Which is why you are still in one piece,” Prue said coldly. “We accept our responsibility. But that doesn’t mean that we’d easily forget – or forgive. So it would be better if our ways never crossed again.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not planning to visit San Francisco, ever,” Vicki’s voice was every bit as icy. “A hellgate is the last thing I want to put on my sightseeing list.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Piper said. “You might change your mind sooner than you thing,” she handed Vicki her card. “Call me, should you be in town.”

“What for?”

“Because Henry won’t be able to accompany you, and it’s better to have a guide in an unfamiliar city,” Piper gave her the ghost of a smile. “And I have my protective instincts better under control.”

Vicki seriously doubted that she’d ever be inclined to visit San Francisco that apparently not only had a hellgate but also a numerous vampire population, but she found it better not to say that. Piper seemed by far the most moderate one of the Halliwell sisters, yet Vicki didn’t forget how she had just negligently freezed those boy, just to make a point It was better not to provoke a vampiress wielding powerful magic.

In any case, the sooner these three left the better it would be.

Her wish got granted not much later. With the help of the pilot, Nahir stored the box with the comatose Phoebe in the cargo area of the plane; then it was time to say farewell. Mother Verena promised to stay in touch; then she murmured a blessing over Vicki in some unknown language and climbed into the plane.

“I can’t wait for this to be over,” she confessed. “I’m deadly afraid of flying; always have been. But needs must; I hope I won’t get a heart attack before we reach Los Angeles. God doesn’t appreciate people darkening His doorstep before the appointed time.”

With that somewhat forced joke she was gone, and Vicki and the Lasombra vampires cleared the airfield, so that the plane could start.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the same time Coreen was having a conversation with Doctor Sagara. A conversation that, frankly, shocked her.

“San Francisco?” She repeated unbelievingly. “Why on Earth should I move to San Francisco?”

“Because there you’d have a future,” Doctor Sagara replied simply.

“Which means I don’t have one here?”

“Do you? In a few years Miss Nelson will have to close her agency, so you won’t even have a job anymore. You’ve dropped out of university; with no higher education what chances will you have on the job market? Unless you envision a career washing plates in some seedy bar… or worse.”

“And how would moving to San Francisco improve my chances?”

“By joining the Legacy.”

“The what?”

“The Legacy is an ancient organization researching the supernatural and fighting evil,” Doctor Sagara explained. “It would be the right place for you. You have been touched by evil, which means you’re vulnerable; more vulnerable than the average human. The Legacy has the means and the knowledge to protect you; and they can profit from your skill as a researcher and from you experiences with the supernatural. You’d have a safe place to live – I think you’d like the San Francisco House, it would match your style – and you could pick up your studies again.”

“Perhaps,” Coreen allowed, because it didn’t actually sound bad at all. “But would they take me in?”

Doctor Sagara smiled. “Oh, I’m quite sure they will. Doctor Rayne, the Precept – the leader of the House – is a dear old friend of mine, and Mother Verena would put in a word for you, too.”

Coreen gave her a wary look. “You both work for this Legacy, don’t you? I know Mother Verena is the webmistress of the Demon Database, but you…”

“I used to be a member of the New York House,” Doctor Sagara supplied. “That House fell to the Sabbat – vampires you’d definitely not want to encounter – but I was not there at the time, so I escaped. Nowadays I’m only a nominal member without a House, but I do freelance for the Legacy now and then; and I still have my connections.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Coreen said uncertainly. “I mean, I would like to pick up my studies again, and working with people who won’t think I’m crazy sounds interesting, but what will happen to Vicki if I leave?”

“She’ll still have Henry, which is more than most people can hope for.”

“Except that Henry is gonna leave for Vancouver, soon.”

“No, he won’t,” Doctor Sagara said with grim determination. “Not as long as Miss Nelson needs him.”

“Well, he was pretty adamant about leaving,” Coreen said doubtfully. “And now that Astaroth is no longer an issue…”

“I’ll see to it that he reconsiders,” Doctor Sagara interrupted. “Let them be my concern. You’ll have to think of your own future, and that definitely doesn’t lie in Toronto. Not anymore.”

That was painfully true, of course, and Coreen knew it. So she promised she would think about it, wondering what Vicki would say if she chose to go.

It took her two days to admit that Doctor Sagara had been absolutely right. After that, it took Doctor Sagara a little more than a week to get her accepted by the San Francisco House. And then she could no longer avoid telling Vicki the truth.

This chapter is now finished!

Kindred Spirits, Part 7

wiseheart — Tue, 01 Mar 2022 17:09:53 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

Author’s notes: I’ve taken considerable creative freedom concerning Clan Lasombra compared with White Wolfe canon. For example, canonically the Lasombra wouldn’t show up in security cameras or photos. I’ve ejected this game canon fact for the sake of my plot. I’m also quite sure that the living darkness of canon works differently than how it’s described here. May all game-players forgive me and take the big, honking AU label under consideration.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Seven

Henry and Doctor Sagara indeed arrived together, having run into each other right in front of the building. Henry fetched Vicki and Coreen, and they all sat down to finalize their plans concerning Astaroth.

“I’ve checked on the empty church Mendoza used,” Vicki told them. “It’s been sealed by the police, but I can pick the lock any time I want.”

“Celluci would be happy to know that,” Henry commented.

Vicki gave him an evil glare. “Leave Mike out of this, Henry!”

“Do we have all necessary items for the ritual?” Nahir asked hurriedly before the two could start bickering in earnest. There really wasn’t time for that.

Dr. Sagara nodded. “There isn’t much on tools that we would need: just three candles, blessed by Pope Shenouda himself, some holy water from Jerusalem; and, of course, the proper words of the ritual – all of which Mother Verena has in her luggage.”

“How did she get the candles and the holy water in such a short time?” Henry asked in surprise.

“Actually, she had them in LA already,” Dr. Sagara explained. “They were gifts from Pope Shenouda when the Anchorite convent was founded.”

“But aren’t the Anchorites restricted to their cells and forbidden to leave it, no matter what?” Nahir frowned.

“They are,” Dr. Sagara agreed. “But the LA convent is a mixed one; it consists of both contemplative and active nuns. Mother Verena and Sister Maura only leave their cells to go to the adjoining church. Sisters Ingrid, Counsela and Anne run a homeless shelter on the grounds of the same church. Mother Verena is also working from her cell out as a Legacy demonologist.”

“That is highly unusual,” Nahir said.

Dr. Sagara nodded again. “It is, but theirs is a special case. LA has a large and varied demon population; some of them harmless, the majority… not so much. Fighting them in the concrete jungle of a big city is very different from fighting them in the solitude of the Egyptian desert. Therefore, in rare cases – like this one – Mother Verena can get a special dispensation from Pope Shenouda to leave her cell and go to where she is needed.

“Is she of true faith?” Henry asked, remembering his recent conversation with Vicki about the topic.

Dr. Sagara shrugged. “I don’t know, Henry. That’s hard to tell from the outside, isn’t it? All I know is that she’s changed a great deal when her former convent was wiped out. Before, she used to be a scholar; a good one – without her the Demon Database wouldn’t be what it is now. But she only seemed to have found her true calling after that horrible tragedy.”

“Calling as what?” Prue asked.

“As someone who fights God’s fight against the powers of darkness,” Dr. Sagara replied seriously.

“For which we should be grateful,” Henry said; then he rose. “Well, since we don’t have yet the most important item for our part of the ritual, I’ll better leave and start working on that copy.”

“I’d like to go with you,” Piper requested.

That surprised Henry. “What for?”

“I’m an alchemist,” she explained. “Granted, still just an adept; I’m decades, if not centuries, from reaching mastery. But I’d like to see how you work with iron; and I might even be of some help.”

“Her grasp on potions is strong,” Nahir added. “Daedalus sees great potential in her.”

Henry knew, of course, who Daedalus was. Every vampire on the western hemisphere knew, even those not of the Kindred. Daedalus wasn’t just the only true alchemist left; he was also one of the very few who had seen the Spanish Inquisition and lived to tell the tale.

Lived being relative, of course.

And if he saw potential in Piper Halliwell, then Piper Halliwell had potential. Potential that could prove very useful and therefore it would have been stupid to miss out on it.

“You are welcome to accompany me, of course,” Henry offered. “But we must leave at once. Time is an issue right now, and I haven’t done such work for many years.”

Piper grabbed her coat without hesitation, and the two left together, discussing the task at hand on their way out.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The workshop of Henry’s iron sculptor acquaintance looked a lot like The Old Smithy in Vienna, Piper found. Granted, she only ever saw the smithy-turned-audience-hall on photos, to her regret, but those photos looked every bit like this place.

It was a relatively large, vaulted room, built – surprisingly enough – of actual stone, with a furnace at the far end, facing the front door, workbenches along both side walls and old-fashioned tools hanging on the wall above the benches, ready to use. In daytime it got light through tall, boarded windows; now a number of cast iron lamps provided illumination, which was more than enough for vampire eyesight. The whole thing looked like something straight out of the eighteenth or early nineteenth century, to be honest.

“I didn’t know that charcoal-heated forges were still in use,” Piper looked around with interest.

“The owner of this forge is an SCA re-enacter,” Henry shovelled charcoal into the furnace and started the fire. “He isn’t just an iron sculptor; he’s also a swordsmith and prefers to do things the old-fashioned way.”

“Which can be a disadvantage for us, if it takes too long to heat up the furnace,” Piper warned him.

Henry shrugged. “It takes as long as it takes. We can’t speed up the process.”

“You perhaps can’t,” Piper corrected. “I might.”

Henry gave her a wary look. “I don’t think involving magic would be wise, with Astaroth at large.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous! I happen to be able to manipulate things on the molecular level; namely, I can slow down or speed up the movement of molecules. That’s why I can freeze or blow up people and things. Now, as physics taught us, heat is nothing but movement. So, if I make the molecules in this charcoal move a bit faster, the furnace will heat up in no time.”

“Or blow up,” Henry commented, not the least convinced.

Piper grinned at him. “Don’t worry. With Daedalus’s help, I’ve learned to control my abilities fairly well. I haven’t blown up anything – or anyone – for years. Literally. Well, save for the odd demon, but that was fully intended and so doesn’t count.”

Henry was still unsure about the whole thing. After all, fire was the greatest natural foe of vampires, and what if she lost control over it? On the other hand, they were running out of time, and he knew it.

“Very well,” he finally said. “Let’s give it a try.”

If he experienced any kind of hocus-pocus – like dramatic gestures, spells chanted in a distorted voice, glowing eyes or anything of that sort – he was disappointed. Piper merely stretched out a hand in the direction of the furnace and concentrated. Slowly, steadily, the fire within grew, then collapsed, turning the charcoal into glowing embers in a few minutes.

“There,” she then said. “That should do. I don’t dare to stress the matter any more.”

“This should be more than adequate,” Henry couldn’t help being impressed. “Now I can be fairly certain that I’ll finish in time. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Piper replied. “Let’s just hope this whole plan will work. Otherwise we’re gonna face a serious problem.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Fortunately, Henry’s visits to the royal forge half a millennium previously paid off. Vampire speed did the rest, and so they were back at his place just before sunrise, with the copy of the amulet finished… more or less.

“It doesn’t look exactly the same,” Nahir judged worriedly. “The shape, weight and pattern are correct, but it still doesn’t look old enough. Apparently, burning clay into the iron hasn’t worked as we had hoped.”

“I can try aging the iron some more, Sire,” Piper offered. “I didn’t dare to do it on my own, but if I’ve got Prue to anchor me, it might work.”

Nahir clearly didn’t like the idea.

“And if you lose control, you might blow it up – and us with it,” he said.

“That’s why I need Prue,” Piper said. “I’ll be very careful, I promise. But you’ll need a perfect copy for this plan to work, or we’ll have the police on our trail as soon as someone checks on the amulet.”

Nahir shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know, Childe. It’s too risky. What do you think, Mr. Fitzroy?”

He turned to Henry, but in that very moment the sun rose and Henry fell into his day sleep immediately.

“He won’t be in any shape to make decisions until sunset,” Piper insisted. “And you’re expected back in the Royal Ontario Museum today! We won’t get another chance to make the exchange.”

Which was very true, and Nahir knew it. He also knew that he can’t leave the amulet in the museum, in the care of clueless mortals, unrelated to the Astaroth issue. So he reluctantly gave in.

“What do you need?” He asked.

“Something made of stone; marble would be even better,” Piper replied. “Just in case the iron becomes hot in the process. We don’t want to burn down the building, after all.”

Prue looked around and spotted a small slate of polished marble among Henry’s ink bottles. It looked unused; what Henry might have needed it for was everyone’s guess.

“Would this do?” She asked.

Piper nodded. “Perfect,” she laid the copy on the slate and looked at her sister. “Okay, let’s do it. Are you ready?”

“Sure,” Prue took her hand.

They entwined their fingers and fell silent. Whatever happened between them, there was no outward sign of it. Prue closed her eyes, while Piper focused hers on the copy. It remained unchained for a while… then it started turning darker, until it became almost black, with a slightly cracked surface.

“That’s enough,” Nahir said when the copy reached the same hue as the amulet.

Piper sighed and let go of Prue’s hand. She looked tired; and so did Prue.

“That was… delicate work,” Piper declared after a moment or so, when the first wave of exhaustion had passed. “There was a moment when I nearly lost control,” she looked at Prue. “Without you, I would have. Thanks.”

Prue smiled tiredly. “Anytime. That’s what sisters are for, isn’t it? How much strength did that cost you?”

“A lot,” Piper admitted. “But you don’t look much better, either.”

“You both need to regain your strength,” Nahir rolled up his sleeve and, extending a talon, cut his wrist, offering it first to Piper. “Feed; and rest for as long as you need. Try to recover, both of you. We might need your powers tonight.”

For a vampire as young as Piper, Sireblood was the best source of recovery. It might not nourish one as much as the blood of living beings, especially humans would do, but it reawakened and strengthened Clan-specific powers. Piper gratefully accepted the offer and fed briefly – too much would have sent her into Frenzy – and then the same source was offered to Prue as well.

“Rest,” Nahir ordered. “I don’t intend to go to the museum early, so we have time. I’ll go Hunting now; the weather is cloudy, so I’ll be safe. And I have the feeling that I’ll need to replenish my strength, too. Tonight I’ll face the greatest challenge of my unlife since the Great Flood.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Several hours later, when Nahir returned, Prue felt rested and strong enough to get up and – if necessary – leave the building with him. Piper was still sleeping. Nahir decided to let her rest.

“I’, too, will rest for a while now,” he said. “We’ll wait until the late afternoon with our visit to the museum. Having the true amulet on me might bring forth its own dangers, so having it as short a time as possible would be wise.”

“You mean Astaroth might feel it?” Prue clarified. “But didn’t they say that the thing has been in the museum for decades? How comes he didn’t feel it before?”

“The amulet was… well, sleeping might be the best word for it,” Nahir explained. “Its powers were rendered inactive by the many millennia of unuse. But when I touched it… it recognized me as one of those empowered to touch it. Carrying it on me will fully wake up its powers, calling out to friend and foe alike. We’ll have to be careful.”

That, of course, was the understatement of the year, and Prue knew it. So she let her Sire rest and spent her time with browsing the Demon Database to learn as much about Astaroth as possible. She firmly believed in being prepared, both with weapons and with knowledge, and she had to admit that the Database was a much more detailed and reliable source of information than the Book of Shadows. Her respect for Mother Verena went up several notches.

Around 4pm Nahir woke up and decided that it was time to go to the Royal Ontario Museum.

“We need to be there well before closing time or they won’t let us in,” he explained.

So they took his rental car, as it had tinted windows, since it was still fairly hell outside, and drove off. Piper was still sleeping when they left.

A Ms Marlowe – the same curator they had met the first time – welcomed them again and opened the archives for them without much ado, to finish heir research and the documentation. She seemed to have developed an unusual interest for the amulet since last time, though.

“Have you managed to verify it?” She asked.

Nahir nodded. “Indeed, I have. Based on the style in which the goddess is portrayed, the item is with a ninety-nine per cent certainty, from the Eanna Temple, which stood in the Sumerian city of Uruk, roughly thirteen thousand years ago.”

“Does this mean it’s valuable?” Ms Marlowe asked with a speculative gleam in her eye.

“For a historian certainly,” Nahir replied, “which is why we need to take some more detailed photographs. There’s one similar item in the British Museum; the researchers would like to compare the two amulets.”

“I mean, does it have any financial value?” Ms Marlowe insisted.

Nahir shook his head. “None. It’s made of meteoric iron, which made it rare and valuable back in the Bronze Age, but all it has now is scientific value.”

“Well, that’s still better than nothing,” Ms Marlowe said. “By all means, take as many photos as you want. Perhaps the British Museum might consider buying it from us.”

With that, she left them to their work, closing them in as the rules demanded. Prue gave her Sire a worried look.

“Sire, I don’t like this. She wasn’t the least interested in the amulet the last time. And now she seems hell-bent to make profit out of it.”

“Hell-bent might be the right expression,” Nahir said grimly, looking around for security cameras. He didn’t want proof of him switching the amulet for the copy; and while Lasombra generally don’t show up on traditional photographs, modern technology could play him a trick that would be unfortunate.

“You think she might have been… approached?” Prue asked slowly. “By Astaroth?”

“More likely by one of his minions,” Nahir found a security camera and calculated the angle from which it wouldn’t see him.

“So he has already felt the amulet’s power?”

“I doubt he’d know what it is,” Nahir found a second camera and made further calculation. “But he doubtlessly knows that something has been found; something that might be a threat to him. We must hurry up. I don’t like the idea of being closed in here. The space is too narrow for a fight.”

“Can he just show up in a sealed room?”

“Not while using a human body. But Ms Marlowe might simply let him in. He disguises himself as a priest, after all, and that woman is both greedy and not very bright, as we’ve just seen. So, let’s do this, quickly.”

“Any more security cameras?”

“None that I can see, but we don’t have time for a thorough search. Take your photographs; I’ll prepare the exchange. I’m afraid I’ll have to risk wielding the Living Darkness for a moment.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? Especially when we’re trying to outsmart a demon? It might bring him right on our track.”

“Of course it’s dangerous; that’s why I practically never use it! But we need to outsmart the security cameras first. Sometimes there isn’t any safe solution for a problem.”

Prue shook her head worriedly. Wielding the Living Darkness was a power unique to Clan Lasombra; but for an Antitribu, using it harboured unique dangers as well. As a highly addictive power, it could corrupt easily, making the Antitribu fall for the ways of the Sabbat. Granted, Nahir was old enough and strong enough to withstand the corruption, being older than the Sabbat as a whole, but he wasn’t invincible.

Not to mention that the wielding of the Living Darkness attracted other evil forces like lodestone attracts iron. So yes, Nahir was taking awfully great risks in both ways.

But laying hand on the amulet was their first priority right now, and they had to do so as soon as possible. Before Astaroth showed up to snatch it.

“All right,” she said. “How can I help?”

“By keeping as much distance between us while I’m doing it as this room allows,” Nahir replied grimly. “You’re still very young as Kindred go; I don’t want to expose you to the lure of the Darkness longer than absolutely necessary. You could get trapped; and then I’d have to destroy you. I’d rather not do that. Oh, and be prepared to use your telekinetic powers to repel the Darkness if you have to.”

“Can I do that?”

“If you focus really hard, then yes, you can. It is a living thing, after all. Now, are you done with your photographs?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Then back off and let me do my part.”

Prue never had any personal experience with the Living Darkness but she knew her Sire was being deadly serious. So she hurriedly put as much distance between herself and the showcase containing the amulet as she could, while focusing on her powers, in case she’d need to use them.

Nahir reached into the open showcase, seemingly to examine the amulet for one last time. The sleigh-of-hand itself, with which he swapped it for the copy, only took a moment; he might have been able to do it in plain sight, too. Still, in front of the security cameras – installed since their previous visit, which was suspicious in itself – that would have been too risky.

He felt the Darkness, presumably an integral part of the vampire soul (and most definitely that of every Lasombra) rise within him, until he began radiating a dark aura that was edged with fire. The energy set free that way sorted out the security cameras within moments. There would be no proof of his actions… or of his arcane powers.

Nahir let the Darkness collapse unto itself, so that it could be absorbed by his body. One would have thought that releasing that sort of energy would weaken him; yet it was not so. On the contrary, he felt stronger, more powerful than ever – which was the reason why he never used the Darkness if he could help it. It was simply too addictive. Many a Lasombra ended up as crazed monsters. He didn’t want to go down that way.

“Let’s go,” he said, pocketing the amulet. “I want to get out of this rat trap as soon as possible.”

He summoned Ms Marlowe via the intercom system, and she came to let them out.

“A shame that you can’t stay a little longer,” she commented, while opening the door for them. “Father Cascioli hoped to meet you and discuss the function of the amulet with you. I understand that he’s some sort of Bible historian and is already on his way here. He’s just called.”

“Another time perhaps,” Nahir replied in a firm but friendly manner. “We really have to go now; we’re expected elsewhere.”

He added a mental order for the woman not to stall them any longer. The last thing he wanted was to face the demon within the confines of the museum. If Astaroth was risking to show himself using the body of the possessed priest, he had to be hell-bent to get his hands on the amulet.

The proof that Nahir had been right came soon enough. Barely had they left the museum, in fact they had just reached the car park, when a man wearing the dog-collared black shirt of a priest showed up.

Well… a creature that not so long ago had been a man. If anyone wanted to know what demonic possession could do to the human body, they only needed to take a good look at the ravaged face of Father Cascioli.

He didn’t even look human anymore.

He clearly wasn’t interested in discussion, either.

“You,” he pointed at Nahir with a claw-like finger, “have something I need. Give it to me, now!”

“I don’t think so,” Nahir didn’t want to release the full power of the amulet, not yet. They would need it later, when the final confrontation would take place, to protect the nun – the only one with the power and knowledge to perform a proper exorcism. They would have to use their own strength, him and Prue, to repel the attack.

“Fool” Astaroth snarled. “You think you can keep it from me? Just because you’re a vampire? I eat pathetic little bloodsuckers like you for breakfast!”

“Somehow I doubt it,” Nahir replied calmly; more calmly than he actually felt. Without using the amulet, there were no guarantees for the outcome of this confrontation. Unless…

He allowed the Darkness to emerge again; this time it went smoother, faster, almost effortlessly. It edged the contours of his body with dark fire; then it broke free, like some amorphous black amoeba, and slammed into Astaroth who was running towards them with superhuman speed. The Darkness engulfed the possessed priest and began squeezing the breath out of him, slowly, mercilessly, until he collapsed.

“Sire, you must stop!” Prue cried out in alarm. “If we kill the host, the demon will simply find a new one; one that we might not be able to identify in time.”

Nahir glared at her. His eyes were pitch black, his fangs had dropped. It seemed doubtful that he could – or even wanted to stop.

Prue knew she had only second to act. Focusing all her strength, she used her telekinetic powers to tear the Darkness away from the unconscious priest and throw it back at Nahir. At the same moment she delivered a brutal kick at Nahir’s jaw to knock him out, hoping that her self-defence skills would do the trick.

Surprisingly enough, they did. Nahir went out like a light, and the Darkness, once again, was absorbed by his body. Not wanting to wait for Astaroth to recover, Prue slung her Sire over her shoulder (fortunately, he was a slender person) and ran to their rental car. Throwing Nahir onto the passenger seat, she started the car and drove off like crazy.

She knew she was way beyond the speed limit, which could have causes serious problems, should she ran into a police patrol, but she didn’t dare to slow down until they reached Henry’s building. Once there, she called Piper to help her with their Sire. Freezing Gregory for the moment they needed to get Nahir into the elevator, they rode it to Henry’s level and laid Nahir onto his bed.

“We’re running out of bedrooms,” Piper commented, since they couldn’t use the one where Phoebe was kept. “What happened?”

“Astaroth happened,” Prue replied grimly. “Master Nahir had to use the Living Darkness to subdue him, at least temporarily. Things got a bout out of control afterwards; I needed to knock our Sire out and practically stuff the Darkness back into him,” she shuddered. “It was… terrifying, to say the least.”

“What about Astaroth?” Piper asked.

“The Darkness nearly killed the host,” Prue explained. “I had to tear it away from him, and I think Master Nahir lost his grip for a moment. He doesn’t wield it on the regular basis, after all – and now I understand why.”

“But is it contained now?”

“I hope so. I saw his body absorb it. But what do we know about it? This was the first time I actually saw it.”

“Is the host still alive, though?”

“Define alive,” Prue said darkly. “He was still breathing – barely – when I fled the place. But seeing what the demon has done to his body, I fear he won’t last long. We’ll have to make our move, soon. Because if Astaroth switches bodies…”

“… we may not find him in time,” Piper finished. “Okay, rest and feed; we still have enough bottled stuff, so you won’t have to go Hunting. I’ll keep an eye on our Sire. Speaking of him, should we take the amulet off him?”

Prue shook her head. “I wouldn’t risk it. Who knows how he might react in his current state. Besides, he’s the only one who can use it; it will be the safest with him.”

“All right,” Piper pulled up a chair to watch over Nahir. “Go, have some rest and feed. Right now that’s all we can do.”

Prue followed her sister’s advice. After having something to eat (unlike snobbish old vampires, she had no problems with bottled stuff) she went over to Henry’s to inform him about the state of affairs.

Needless to say that Henry was concerned by her news… to put it mildly.

“Astaroth is growing bolder – and presumably stronger – by each passing day,” he said, clearly worried. “That he would attack the two of you openly… he must have recognized that you weren’t human.”

Prue nodded. “He knew we were vampires. And he clearly knew about the amulet. I doubt he’d know what it is, but he definitely knows it’s something we could use against him. That he risked contacting the museum curator in the guise of his host is alarming. We must make our move while we still can.”

“Before he decides to go after Vicki,” Henry agreed. “She’s Astaroth’s gateway into our world; he won’t spare her.”

“Right now the demon is weakened,” Prue said. “The Lasombra have powers my Sire hardly ever uses, as they could backfire easily. But he used them today, and thus bought us some time. We should not waste it.”

“I’ll call Bettie and have her fetch Mother Verena,” Henry promised. “The abandoned church has been prepared for the ritual. We can do it tonight.”

“You should feed first, though,” Prue warned him. “You’ll need your full strength.”

“So will your Sire. Do you think he’ll recover in time?”

“O, he will. He might have a glass chin, but the effect won’t last long. He’ll be ready when the time comes.”

For visuals: The Old Smithy in Vienna

Kindred Spirits, Part 6

wiseheart — Sun, 13 Feb 2022 18:43:15 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

Author’s notes: I’ve taken some creative freedom considering the lifestyle of Coptic nuns. After all, the one appearing in “Poltergeist: the Legacy” was supposed to be an Anchorite, too, which didn’t hinder her in going to San Francisco just like that. Mother Verena’s attire is closer to that of Sister Jehann in “P:tL” than to that of actual Coptic nuns.

The Holy Theotokos Convent is a really existing monastery; it has been founded in 2001, so in theory it would be there when this story takes place. I imagined that an Anchorite would prefer to stay with an Orthodox convent.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Six

With deliberate slowness, to give Vicki the chance to notice him, Henry entered her living room. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she could feel his presence. Sharing blood did enable people to do that, even if only one of them was a vampire.

Vicki was sitting on the couch, not doing anything in particular. Vampire vision being what it was – meaning that he could actually see colours in the darkness, as long as there was at least some light, which was always the case in a big city – made possible for him to see the redness of her eyes and the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks.

“Victoria, I am sorry,” he said quietly.

“Don’t be,” Vicki replied. Her voice lacked any emotion, save for exhaustion. “You were right, you know. I mean, whom was I kidding? I ran a sword through you and took your blood, while you were begging me not to do it. How does that make me any better than Mendoza was? You told me right then and there that you’d never forgive me; it’s okay. I understand that. But did you really have to discuss it in front of complete strangers?”

Henry sighed. “Unfortunately, I did. I had to mollify them, Vicki, because we do need Professor Martin’s help. There is no telling how long it will take Astaroth to collect enough strength here to tear the door between our world and his wide open and allow his legions to pour into this dimension. When that happens, we’ll be completely powerless!”

“But the professor won’t?”

“Apparently not. I’m still not sure I can believe everything he says about himself; some of it just sounds too fantastic. But he’s extremely old and powerful. And he has a past connection to the amulet that might help us bring Astaroth down.”

“Might?” Vicki echoed.

“I’m not sure it alone will be enough,” Henry confessed. “I asked Bettie – Doctor Sagara – to seek out a different kind of aid. She used to work for an institution that has fought the forces of darkness for millennia… in one form or another. She still has the connections. I hope she can find somebody to help us; because it’s said that only True Faith can force a demon as powerful as Astaroth back to Hell where he’s come from.”

“You mean one has to be really religious?” Vicki asked doubtfully.

“Yes, but that isn’t enough, or else I could do it on my own. In earlier times, various religions – Christianity among them – knew ways to battle demons and other evil creatures. There were… rituals for that sort of thing, but only those of unwavering faith could perform them and live to tell the tale. Such people were consecrated to fight such battles. Unfortunately, most of those secrets have been long forgotten. Even in my lifetime, there were but legends that people whispered to each other with their hands held before their mouths. The Spanish Inquisition saw to it.”

“Is that why Father Cascioli failed?”

“Most likely. The words of the ritual aren’t enough to overpower a demon. One needs to have the strength and the knowledge to perform it properly. Raymond was plagued by doubt about his own worth and strength,” Henry stared into the darkness, his soul heavy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have insisted on his helping us. If he’s lost forever, it will be my fault,” he turned to Vicki. “So I really have no right to deny your forgiveness. You meant no harm; and, unlike me, you haven’t endangered anyone but yourself.”

“But you’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” Henry corrected. “I was saddened because I knew that you’d taint yourself with dark magic, and that could have unforeseen consequences. And yes, I did feel betrayed by your actions; although I also realized that you were doing this to save me. I still cannot condone the way you chose.”

“I didn’t see any other way to save both you and the world,” Vicki said. “I still don’t.”

“Perhaps there wasn’t any other way,” Henry allowed. “But I don’t really believe that evil means can lead to good things in the long run.”

“And that leaves us… where exactly?” Vicki asked.

Henry sighed. “I don’t know. At the moment it means that we have to put together everything we have to deal with Astaroth. For that, I’ll have to make that copy of the amulet as quickly as I can. But I can’t go home and work on it in peace, knowing that you’re alone and unprotected. Won’t you come back with me? At least until this crisis is over?”

“It depends. Is Batgirl still hovering next door?”

“Yes, but you don’t need to worry about her. Her Sire’s promised to put her in torpor.”

“In what?”

“Vampire coma. Similar to the state I am in during daytime; only that she won’t wake up any time soon. Perhaps for years to come.”

“And you believe that the professor will honestly do that?”

“Yes. What Phoebe was about to do is heavily frowned upon in… err… civilized Kindred society. Besides, the professor has a very old bone to pick with Astaroth, if I understood it correctly.”

“How old?”

“Thirteen thousand years, give or take a few centuries,” Henry said with a grim smile. “Unless he was lying through his fangs, in which case we’re in serious trouble.”

“Do you think he was lying? Can you even tell by another vampire?”

“Not by such an old and powerful one. But no, I don’t think he was lying. Firstly, he had no reason to lie to me, and secondly, Bettie has known him for as long as she’s known me, so…” he shrugged. “I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“All right,” Vicki said after a moment of consideration. “Then I’ll go back with you… for now.”

“I am relieved. Where is Coreen, by the way? We should collect her on our way, too.”

“Don’t worry about Coreen, she’s in good hands. Besides, I doubt you could persuade her to come with us. She’s really pissed at Batgirl & Co.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the meantime Coreen was in very good hands indeed. More accurately, she was safely ensconced in a huge, overstuffed, old-fashioned armchair in Dr. Sagara’s library, browsing the demon database on her laptop. The old lady even logged in for her with a special password that allowed access to more… sensitive entries that were protected from the casual browsers. It was probably risky, but it was also the best way to keep the girl occupied and (hopefully) out of trouble.

Dr. Sagara herself was talking on Skype to her old friend, Mother Verena. The fact that – despite her predictions – they were actually dealing with Astaroth himself seemed to concern the nun extremely.

“I have consulted His Holiness Pope Shenouda about the matter,” she said, “and he gave me temporary dispensation from my vow of stability. For exactly as long as we need to exorcise the demon. If it is indeed Astaroth, the exorcism cannot be performed by a civilian.”

“Why would you need a papal dispensation?” Dr. Sagara frowned. “You’re still a member of the Legacy and have always moved around quite freely, despite being a nun.”

“Yes, but I’m a Coptic nun now; a member of the Holy Order of Anchorites,” the nun reminded her. “Granted we’re no longer walled up in our cells, but we are a strictly clausured order. Neither of us leaves the area of the parish where we serve; not even to see the doctor – unless we need an operation in a hospital, and even for that we must ask for a dispensation.”

“But why?” Dr. Sagara was used to her friend being very active and mobile, even during her two decades as Benedictine. That she would accept such restrictions seemed unreasonable.

“That is the price for the knowledge I’ve won by converting to the Order and being consecrated for the task I’ve taken upon myself,” the nun replied seriously. “The ancient ones went to the desert to fight demons. We do it in the solitude of our cell; and there do we hone our senses to detect them. We cannot afford any distractions.”

“But you did get a dispensation…”

“Yes. His Holiness takes the mission of fighting evil very seriously. I’ll ask in a few favours to get on board of a private plane as soon as possible. Try to keep the others from summoning the demon until my arrival.”

“Trying is the key word here,” Dr. Sagara said dryly.

“Appeal to Professor Martin’s common sense,” the nun suggested. “Considering who – and what – he is, he can be reasonable. And he is old enough to rein in his Childer.”

“One would think so, yes…”

“What happened?”

“Nothing I’d discuss via Skype. I’ll fill you in as soon as you arrive. I only wish I could do something useful in the meantime.”

“You can,” the nun said seriously. “You can pray and hope that God is willing to listen.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Fortunately for Dr. Sagara, Henry – as a deeply religious person himself – knew to value such spiritual help as had been offered to them, and declared himself willing to wait. He had enough to do to occupy himself anyway, having to make that copy of Inanna’s amulet, so that the professor may swap it with the genuine item on the next day.

“It’s a good thing that I liked to visit the royal blacksmith’s forge as a boy,” he commented. “Not many people know in these days how to work with cast iron. Not in a city like this, at least.”

“But how are you going to do it?” Vicki asked. “You’ll need an actual forge for that, won’t you?”

“I know an artisan who makes sculptures from scrap iron,” Henry explained. “I’ve… persuaded him to lend me his forge for tomorrow night.”

“You can do it in one night?” Prue found that hard to believe.

Henry gave her a cheeky smile. “Easily. If there’s one thing in which my kind is superior to even yours, it is speed. Besides, I’ve made the casts already. Several of them, in fact, just in case.”

“Do you always keep lots of clay in your pantry?” Vicki asked. “Not that there would be much else, of course…”

“Not as a rule, no. But I ordered some two nights ago; and not just for the casts. I’ll need to simulate the dirt, too, the original item has gathered in all those millennia under the earth.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“By burning the clay into the finer tears of the material. Luckily, Miss Halliwell’s photos are very detailed.”

“All that in one night’s work?”

“Certainly. I don’t have the luxury of continuing my work after sunrise, do I?”

“Not according to what I’ve learned about you,” Vicki allowed. “All right, I think we should leave you to your… creative efforts.”

“And we ought to go to the airport,” Prue said. “Piper is due to arrive within the hour.”

“Fortunately, traffic is not heavy at this time of the day, or so I was told,” Nahir replied. “Still, it is better to have enough time, in case unforeseeable things happen. Let’s go.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
They drove to the airport in Nahir’s leased car and were there about twenty minutes before Piper’s plane would land. To their surprise they found Dr. Sagara standing with fifty other people at the double doors from International Arrivals, clearly also waiting for someone.

“Mother Verena has managed to organize a private plane, courtesy of an LA. businessman and flown up from California earlier than expected,” she explained. “And since this is her first time in Toronto, I came to take her to the Holy Theotokos Convent; an Orthodox monastery in Cedar Valley, where she’ll be staying.”

“But that’s well outside Toronto,” Prue commented. “Are you going to drive her across the whole town?”

That earned her an icy glare from the old lady.

“I might not be the youngest, but I’m far from being dotardly, as my students – who live in holy fear of me – might tell you,” Dr. Sagara said coldly. “My eyesight is still good enough for a mere human, and I’m not deaf yet, either. No need to look down at me just because you’ve successfully dodged the getting older part… not that I’d switch places with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Prue apologized hastily. “I didn’t mean to offend…”

“Then I suggest to curb your arrogance next time before speaking,” the old lady replied; then her mien brightened all of a sudden. “Oh, there she comes!”

They followed her direction of sight and spotted a most unusual-looking nun passing the gates. Well, unusual-looking for Prue, that is, whose imagination about nuns was heavily influenced by movies, where every single one of them was clad in black and white, making them vaguely resembling of penguins, in her not-so-expert opinion.

Not this one, though. This nun, middle-aged and of middle height, was wearing an ankle-length grey habit of coarse wool; it was lined with some pale, greyish-blue fabric, perhaps linen or cotton. Of the same fabric was the cowl covering her head, so that not a single hair was visible. Over this she wore a long veil of undyed linen that reached down below the waist and was draped over her head. A leather girdle with a plaited cross cinched the habit, and a square scarf of the same greyish-blue fabric as the cowl covered her breast. It wasn’t an attire often seen, not even in the Middle East, as Anchorites usually led a secluded life, but Nahir was old enough to have seen it before – a millennium and a half previously, given or taken a few decades.

What was even more unusual, the nun apparently didn’t come alone. She was accompanied by a youthful-looking man of indefinite age, wearing black designer jeans, a blood-red silk shirt and a black leather duster. He wasn’t the company one would have expected from a nun – and from one of a strictly clausured order at that – to put it mildly.

But that wasn’t the reason why Prue was shocked at seeing him.

“Bane Jessup?” She muttered in confusion. “But I thought you were in prison… or dead.”

“Oh, this man most definitely is dead,” Nahir murmured. “Or, in this case, undead would be the correct term.”

“You mean he’s a vampire? One of our kind or Henry’s?”

Nahir focused for a moment. “He’s Kindred. Brujah, to be more accurate, and not newly Embraced at that. He also seems fairly civilized for one of the Rabble.”

He had spoken in an almost subvocal voice, but the man in question had heard him nonetheless.

“Not all of us have sunk as low as our brethren in San Francisco,” he said with a cold smile. “And I am certainly not Bane Jessup, whoever he might be. My name is Alonzo Solace; and I’m the personal pilot of Salvador Garcia.”

“The Anarch leader of LA?” Nahir asked in surprise. “What are you doing here, then?”

The Brujah shrugged. “My… boss agreed to lend his private plane – and me – to the good sister here, as a courtesy for Angelus. Our Prince does work with the Legacy on occasion.”

“Just like you,” the nun added with a tight smile, aiming her words at Nahir. “Professor Martin, I presume? It’s nice to meet you face to face, at last. I am Mother Verena.”

Nahir raised a surprised eyebrow: “The new webmistress of the Demon Database?”

“The old one, actually,” the nun corrected. “I was given a new name upon my conversion,” she then looked at Dr. Sagara. “We must go, Bettie. I need to be on sacred ground before nightfall.”

“Well, you could have chosen a convent to stay with that isn’t outside town,” Dr. Sagara replied a little tartly, but the nun shook her head.

“Those secular orders do great work for God’s lost lambs, but their houses are just that: secular. Not one of them is consecrated the old ways. I wouldn’t be safe there; and I would endanger them and their wards through my presence. The Holy Theotokos Convent might be a new foundation, but our Orthodox brethren do a more thorough job consecrating the ground where they worship. Their order is almost as old as ours.”

“All right then,” Dr. Sagara sighed. “My car is in the car park, so let’s go. What about you pilot, though? Where will he stay? Shouldn’t we inform Henry about another vampire entering his domain?”

“I’ll stay in the plane,” the Brujah answered. “The airport counts as outside town territory, and I’ve got bottled supplies for several days. Besides, I wouldn’t be tolerated anyway near the convent, even though I came with the good sister.”

“Airport personnel wouldn’t like it,” Prue commented.

The Brujah grinned at her. “They should to spot me first for that; and they won’t.”

Prue assumed that the man was good at Domination and would simply suggest any random airport personnel that they didn’t see him at all. Most Kindred beyond their first century could do that. In the next moment, though, she forgot about the whole thing, as she finally spotted Piper passing the doors of International Arrivals.

There was a large group of (fairly slow) elderly tourists coming first, but Piper didn’t wait for them to clear the way. She simply ducked under the railing, and in the next moment she and Prue were in each other’s arms, laughing and crying as the tension of the last few days seeped out of them. Nahir watched them for a moment with tolerant amusement.

“That’s enough, Childer,” he then said. “Our allies need to leave now; and so do we. I’d like to bring Piper up to date with the newest events before our host could join us.”

“I’ll join you, too, as soon as I’m back from Cedar Valley,” Dr. Sagara promised. “Vicki and Coreen are already on their way. We can discuss the details, later.”

With that, she swept off, the nun hurrying on her trail.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
By the time Nahir and his Childer reached Henry’s building – they made a detour to Hunt and spent some time in The Naked Lady to help Piper catch up with the recent events – their host was already awake and off to find some dinner. Miss Nelson and the Goth girl were in their temporary apartment, doing… not so much, actually, unless arguing counts. They were speaking in low voices (or so they probably believed) but that wasn’t a problem for the acute vampire hearing. They could as well have been in the same room, shouting from the top of their lungs.

Nahir listened to their arguing for a moment, then dismissed it as irrelevant. Piper wanted to see Phoebe, so he unlocked the bedroom where the youngest Halliwell sister was lying on the king-sized bed, pale and unmoving as if bared up for funeral. It wasn’t a pleasant sight; only the fact that she hadn’t fallen to ash yet could persuade Piper that she wasn’t dead – the Final Death kind of dead – yet.

Still, seeing her sister like that shook her to the bone, so it was Prue who made the suggestion to send Phoebe to LA, to Heather. Nahir clearly hadn’t thought of that because he appeared to be surprised by the idea; but he wasn’t adverse to it, either.

“That could actually work,” he allowed. “And there might even be a way to smuggle her out of Toronto and into LA without anyone being the wiser.”

The sisters frowned for a moment; then the eminently practical-minded Piper nodded.

“Of course. The private plane this Mother Verena came with. But would she agree?”

“It isn’t hers to agree or disagree,” Nahir replied coldly. “This is a Kindred matter; I’ll clear it with the Brujah.”

“Yeah, but will he agree?” Prue asked doubtfully.

Nahir shrugged. “I’ll tell him I’m sending a life-sized sex doll for La Lune Rouge. Heather’s establishment is well-known among Kindred and Kine alike; he won’t be surprised.”

“Are you going to inform Angelus, though?” Prue asked. “Or at least Spike?”

Nahir shook his head. “Angelus still has a lot to learn about the true nature of the Order; which is why I hesitate to reveal Heather’s true identity to him. As for William… I don’t want to get him in trouble with Angelus. It’s better for him to remain in ignorance. And it isn’t so as if Heather would need any help with Phoebe.”

“True,” Piper agreed. “Are we putting her into a coffin for the trip?”

“No; I’ll organize a genuine sex doll box for her,’ Nahir gave them a thin smile. “Those dolls have the weight of a real woman and are built to deliver the ware unharmed. Besides, isn’t that what she’s been all her adult life? First Belthazor’s, and now mine.”

Prue and Piper were a bit shocked by that statement… but not the least surprised. They’d already learned that their Sire was a lot of things, but merciful and kind-hearted was none of those things.

“What are we gonna say back home about what happened to her?” Prue asked after a lengthy pause. “We can’t keep lying to the Prince – or to Daedalus – on the long run.”

“You won’t have to,” Nahir said. “You tell them that we came here to help dealing with a dangerous demon, which is the truth. That Phoebe fell in torpor, and we sent her to LA until she recovers, which is also the truth.”

“Just not the whole truth,” Piper commented quietly.

Nahir shrugged again. “I never promised to tell Julian Luna everything.”

“Well, he won’t learn of this from us,” Prue said; as the one having an on/off affair with the Prince of San Francisco, she was the one who had to watch her tongue most. “We might be just neonates, but we’re not suicidal. Lillie would jump at the opportunity to get rid of us.”

“You mean to get rid of you,” Piper corrected. “You were the one seducing the Prince away from her; at least that is her story and she’ll stick to it.”

“Yep, because admitting that her scheming behind Julian’s back played a significant role in her falling from grace would be embarrassing,” Prue replied with a snort. “She’s a menace.”

“And if she succeeds in turning the Prince against us, we won’t have any other choice than flee San Francisco,” Nahir looked at Piper. “Should Luna call a Blood Hunt against us, Daedalus won’t be able to spare you.”

Piper nodded. “I know. He is the Prince’s Enforcer and his best friend, first and foremost. I might be his pupil and his lover, but when forced to choose, he would choose the Prince.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Prue asked.

Piper shrugged. “I’ve given up on the happily together forever when Leo scurried back to his precious Elders with his tail between his legs. And when I accepted the Embrace, I also made the decision of being content with what I have and stopping to wish for things that I haven’t.”

She didn’t sound bitter; just resigned. Nahir still didn’t like the sound of it.

“Do you have any regrets?” He asked.

Piper shook her head. “Oh no, Sire, I actually enjoy life – or should I say unlife? – as a Kindred. I’ve learned so much in these recent years, and the fact that now our chances to survive are so much better is worth the small disadvantages – like not having a reflection. I’ve learned to deal with those just fine. Besides, I wasn’t all that lucky in love as a mortal, was I?”

“You’re still mourning what you might have had with Leo, had he grown a pair in time,” Prue said.

It wasn’t a question. She knew her sister – both her sisters – well.

Piper shrugged again. “I’ll get over it – over him – eventually. And if I’ve got anything aplenty now, it’s time.”

Which was very true, of course. Prue still wished she could help her sister somehow to get over her grief sooner rather than later. But everyone had to heal at their own pace, and there was little to nothing any outsider could do to speed up the process.

“We all need a vacation,” she muttered. “Too bad that the Bahamas are out of question for us. I sure could use a sandy beech and a lot of cocktails.”

“A real shame,” Piper agreed. “You know what? When we’ve dealt with the problem here and got home, we’ll throw a genuine South Seas party at the P3.”

Prue grinned. “Deal,” then something occurred to her. “Sire, now that Phoebe is out of the game – and will be for the foreseeable future – how are we supposed to wield the Power of Three?”

“There’s still Paige,” Nahir reminded them.

“Who’s still staying at your house,” Prue pointed out.

“That is not strictly necessary, though,” Nahir said. “Sure, she must visit me from time to time, since she’s a ghoul, but aside from that she could move in with you until Phoebe returns.”

“But you said yourself: that can take a long time. And Paige is also your slave.”

Nahir shrugged. “That’s immaterial. I’ll still have Roderick in the house to see after my needs. It will do Paige good to stay with you for a while… without Phoebe to mob her when having a bad day.”

“True,” Piper said. “And it will do us good to learn to know Paige a little better. In all these years we never had that chance. There was always one crisis or another.”

Nahir nodded. “Good; then it’s settled,” he listened for a moment. “Well, our mortal neighbours seem to have finished arguing, and I can hear Dr. Sagara talking to Mr. Fitzroy while riding the elevator. Perhaps we can have a proper meeting now.”

Kindred Spirits, Part 5

wiseheart — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 17:02:05 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Five

When Henry came to, right at sunset, he knew at once that something was very, very wrong. Even from the distance of the apartment next door, he could hear the agitated heartbeats of Vicki and Coreen (the latter even more concerning, due to the girl’s heart problem she was born with); and he could feel the anger of an old, powerful vampire radiating though the walls between them.

He never got dressed as quickly before, ignoring the small, vague pain on the left side of his chest. He couldn’t imagine where it came from, but right now he had more important things to deal with.

What have those two women done?

He localized the heartbeats in the apartment in which he had put up the visiting Kindred. What on Earth were Vicki and Coreen doing there? It couldn’t be good; beyond the ancient vampire’s wrath he could also feel some dark power emanating from there. A dark power that felt nauseatingly familiar. They could be in mortal danger!

When he kicked the door open and stormed the apartment, the sight that greeted him nearly froze his blood.

Shackled to a chair by her wrists and ankles, Phoebe was writhing in pain, the Iluminación del Sol having clawed itself into her heart. Behind the chair stood Vicki, with a can of petrol in one hand (where had she possibly found that?) and a zippo in the other one, shielding Coreen with her own body.

They were facing down Prue and her Sire, both wearing their true face, both obviously enraged. But they couldn’t do a thing to overwhelm the mortal women. Vicki had cleverly chosen the only weapon against which even the oldest, most powerful vampires were helpless: fire.

Henry forced himself to calm down. He had to tread very carefully here, to unravel the situation. Or they could all die a grisly death, leaving Toronto wide open for Astaroth and his legions of demons.

He called upon his heritage and allowed the natural authority of a royal prince born and bread for ruling to emerge above his pretty boy disguise.

“Would somebody care to explain me what’s going on here?” he asked icily. Having been established in his own household as a child already had taught him the authority to which most commoners instinctively answered.

Even millennia-old undead commoners.

“Your mortal pet is using a barbaric device to torture my sister!” Prue spat. She was clearly very protective of her siblings, even though their relationship didn’t seem to be an easy one.

“I can see that,” Henry said calmly. “What I would like to know is: why? Victoria doesn’t do things without a sound reason; although I must admit I find it hard to imagine a reason that would justify this.”

His calm manner seemed to have a calming effect on Vicki. Her heartbeat slowed down a little, and her blood pressure lessened to almost normal levels.

“An explanation is something I’d like to get, too,” she said. “You see, I wanted to borrow one of your books to have Coreen check something for me. Imagine my surprise when I couldn’t leave the apartment. Key and lock worked perfectly, and yet the door refused to open.”

Prue and her Sire exchanged worried looks. Their features smoothed out, returning to their human disguise.

“A containing spell?” the professor asked.

“Not by me!” Prue assured him. “We wanted to protect them, not to imprison them.”

“Well, your sister clearly had other ideas,” Vicki said dryly. “Fortunately, she forgot about the balcony. We climbed down the fire ladder, got inside the house the normal way – you might want to make Greg forget it, by the way, he was a bit shocked to see us – and found your front door unlocked.”

“That was when we knew something was wrong,” Coreen added.

“So you ran back to Vicki’s place for the Iluminación del Sol?” Henry asked doubtfully. It just didn’t add up. They wouldn’t have the time for that; not if they wanted to act quickly.

“Oh, no,” Vicki said darkly. “I had that cursed thing in my pocket ever since we moved in next door to your… allies here.”

“What for?” Prue clearly didn’t see the reason. Perhaps she was used to be seen as one of the good guys.

“Because I didn’t know a thing about you – still don’t, in fact – and despite Doctor Sagara’s reassurances, I wasn’t sure I can trust you,” Vicki replied. “And I was right, it seems. Because I got to Henry just in time; at the very moment when your sister attempted to drain him in his sleep.”

“What?” Prue whirled around to her sister in shock. “Phoebe, is that true?”

Phoebe didn’t answer, just moaned in pain.

Their Sire seemed fairly shocked, too.

“I don’t know what to say,” he shook his head. “She’s always been a handful, but doing something like this… there will be consequences, I promise. Still, subjecting her to this device – and yes, I know exactly what it is – was cruel.”

“And what else could I have done?” Vicki demanded. “We are no match for a vampire who’s also a witch, and the two of you were not here. She’s already taken some of Henry’s blood, and was clearly ready to take the rest, too. She looked as if she’d been drugged up to the eye-teeth.”

“The blood of the True Undead does have that effect on our kind,” the professor admitted ruefully.

Vicki pulled a face. “Great. So, should I have let her kill Henry in his sleep, so that she could get properly high on his blood? I used the only weapons I had to my disposal: my baton to knock her out, and this… thing, because I knew it would at least incapacitate her.”

The professor glared at her. Other people, even lesser vampires, would have gone to their knees from the sheer power of that glare, begging for mercy. Vicki, however, just glared back at him, completely unimpressed.

“That won’t work,” Henry said quietly. “She’s a resistor; an unusually strong one.”

“It appears so, yes,” the professor sighed, admitting defeat. “Do you have the key?”

Henry shook his head. “I didn’t even know Vicki kept the Iluminación del Sol. I wasn’t exactly… myself right after it had been used on me and thought it was destroyed.”

Prue looked at him aghast. “Somebody used this on you?”

“It’s a long story,” Henry replied. “Perhaps one day I’ll tell you. Right now, we must see to your sister because believe me, she’s in more pain than you can even begin to imagine,” he turned to Vicki. “I assume you have the key?”

She nodded. “Of course. But I won’t take the thing off before I can be sure that her… family will keep her – and themselves – under control.”

“I give you my word,” the professor held out a hand. “Can I have the key now?”

“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” Vicki scowled. “We’ll use the key; and if either of you as much as breathes the false way, I’ll ignite all this petrol in a second.”

“Killing yourself in the process?”

“I’m on borrowed time already, so what’s the difference? So, if you want Batgirl relieved while she still has some life in her, stay put.”

Prue and her Sire exchanged helpless looks… and then backed off indeed, putting more distance between them and Vicki.

“Henry, keep an eye on them,” Vicki ordered. “Coreen, the key!”

To Henry’s mild amusement Coreen fished the key out of her corset and threw it to Vicki, who caught it in the air an inserted it into the gold disc above Phoebe’s heart.

“I’d be very quiet if I were you,” Henry warned the Kindred vampires. “If she turns the key in the wrong direction, Phoebe’s heart will stop at once.”

“Don’t tempt me!” Vicki muttered. Then she turned the key.

Phoebe screamed in agony, and for a moment they feared that Vicki had chosen the wrong direction indeed. In the next moment, however, the claws retracted from Phoebe’s heart and the disk fell off and onto the floor with a quiet thud. Before anyone could have stopped her, Coreen picked it up and stuffed it into her corset.

“Coreen!” Henry cried out, agitated.

The girl shrugged. “What? It’s not supposed to harm humans. And Vicki isn’t the only one who’s protective towards you.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or frightened,” Henry commented, but he couldn’t quite suppress a smile. It felt good to be cared for, even though he couldn’t always condone the methods the two women used.

He turned to the professor. “I’d say what happened today doesn’t help with the trusting each other part of our alliance. Your Childe did something that I find intrusive and unethical, and my friends might have… overreacted a bit.”

“I don’t think so,” Vicki said stubbornly. “If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be able to hold your morale sermon right now.”

Henry closed his eyes for a moment. “Victoria, please! I’m trying to bring us all to a certain level of agreement. Don’t forget that we still have Astaroth to consider.”

“With allies like these, who needs Astaroth?” Vicki countered, not the least modified.

Henry briefly prayed for patience.

“I didn’t say that we needed him; on the contrary,” he then said. “But he is out there, whether we like it or not, and to get rid of him, we need help.”

“Some help it is,” Vicki shot the still moaning Phoebe an accusing look.

Henry sighed. “It’s not that I disagree with you; but should I remind you that she wasn’t the first one to take my blood without my concern? Or despite my protests, may I add?”

Vicki became deathly pale at that and her eyes narrowed in anger. “I did it to save your life, not because I wanted to eat you for dinner!”

“That doesn’t really change the outcome,” Henry said tonelessly. “Fact is, there have been three people who’ve taken my blood without my consent: Miss Halliwell, Javier Mendoza… and you. And while I don’t question your best intentions, I don’t think that you are in any position to throw stones in a glass house.”

For a moment Vicki stiffened, as if he’d slapped her. Then she swallowed hard and turned away.

“I see. Well, in that case I apologize for saving your life… again. I’m going back home and wish you fun with your fellow bloodsuckers. Coreen, you coming or staying?”

“Are you kidding?” the Goth gave her a look full of disbelief. “Of course I’m coming with you. We mere mortals ought to stick to each other, seeing as the bloodsuckers are doing the same.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“That went well,” Prue commented, after the two mortal women left. “What now? With them gone and Phoebe out of it, our chances to take down Astaroth have lessened considerably.”

“Oh, Phoebe is definitely out of it, believe me,” Nahir said darkly. “This will have consequences; and when I’m finished with her, she’ll be even more out of it, for a very long time. Right now, however, we need to regroup and rethink our strategy. As Mr. Fitzroy has pointed out, we’ll have to deal with Astaroth, regardless of our personal disagreements,” he turned to Henry. “If that is what you want, we’ll move out of your haven.”

“And go where?”

“There are hotels and other accommodations. For us it’s easier to blend in with mortals, since we aren’t exclusively nocturnal.”

“Can you guarantee that what happened today won’t happen again?” Henry asked.

Nahir nodded. “I can and I will. I’ll send Phoebe into torpor. She’ll be as dead to the world as you are during daytime, until I call her back. She won’t be bothering you again.”

“In that case it would be more practical if you stayed here,” Henry said. “It’s better if we remain within reach… just in case.”

“Can you persuade Ms Nelson and Miss Fennel to return, too?” Prue asked. “They are in grave danger on their own.”

“I seriously doubt it,” Henry said with a wry smile. “Victoria is perhaps the most stubborn person I’ve ever met in my almost five hundred years, and the mere idea that she’d need protection (although she does) would send her into full defensive mode. Unfortunately, Coreen tends to follow her on that path of self-destruction.”

“Has she really taken your blood?” Nahir asked. “What for?”

“She drank it to poison her life force and thus eliminate a murderous, undead Inca priest named Pachacamac that was after my powers,” Henry replied matter-of-factly.

For a moment Nahir forgot to breathe. It was fortunate that, strictly seen, vampires didn’t need to breathe.

“Is she insane?” he finally asked.

“Sometimes I ask myself the same question,” Henry admitted ruefully. “But no; she’s just determined to save those she cares for, no matter the costs.”

“I guess she didn’t take the reminder kindly,” Prue commented.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Henry sighed. “I said back then that I might never be able to forgive her; bringing it up again only made her more stubborn and defensive.”

“So, what are we doing now?” Prue asked.

“You do for her what you can and must,” Henry glanced at Phoebe. “I’ll have to feed; and then I’ll go and watch over Vicki, without her knowing it. It’s fortunate that Astaroth is nocturnal indeed. I wouldn’t be of much use during the day.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He left without a further word, and Prue looked at her Sire questioningly.

“What now?”

“Now I’ll drain Phoebe until she falls into torpor,” Nahir replied grimly. “That will give her the chance to heal… and keep her out of trouble. We’ll place her into one of the bedrooms and seal the door magically to keep her safe. With her actions I’ll deal when we return home. This is not something I’m willing to tolerate; and frankly, I’m shocked that she’s managed to go behind my back, despite being Blood Bound to me. No-one of my other Childer could do that.”

“You’ve never had a witch as a Childe before,” Prue reminded him. “She’s an empath; and due to her gift of premonition, she can foretell your reactions and manipulate you accordingly. Don’t forget that she has more insight into you due to your bond than the rest of us.”

“There’s more, I’m afraid,” Nahir sighed. “Perhaps being intimate with a demon had tainted her more than we’ve thought.”

“She’s not evil!” Prue protested. “Irresponsible and inconsiderate and maddeningly stubborn, yes, but not evil!”

“Perhaps,” Nahir allowed. “But there’s a darkness in her that the rest of your fortunately lack. Perhaps that’s why she was so attracted to the Vitae of a True Undead. Their kind has more animalistic traits than ours. The Beast is closer to the surface by them than by us. She must have instinctively felt it.”

Prue nodded glumly, for this was certainly true, in both points. As the most scholarly one from all four sisters, she had learned what she could about other vampire subspecies. Among other reasons because one of Nahir’s older Childer lived in Los Angeles; and the Prince of that City, while consensually elected, was definitely not your average Kindred.

To put it mildly.

“Shall I leave the two of you alone?” she asked.

Nahir nodded. “That would be the best. What I’m about to do is not a pleasant thing to watch. Especially not if it’s being done to somebody you care for.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next thirty minutes Prue spent in the other bedroom, talking on the phone to Piper, who was already on the plane heading Toronto and needed to be filled in about everything that had happened so far. Piper became understandably agitated by the news. They lived in San Francisco, on the sufferance of its Ventrue Prince, Julian Luna. In a city that was firmly in Camarilla hands diablerie was not tolerated.

Not even attempted diablerie, almost-committed by a clueless fledgling.

Only that Phoebe wasn’t a fledgling anymore. While she would never become truly independent – no vampire Blood Bound to their Sire ever could –, she had been accepted by the Prince of the city. Such disastrous behaviour could not only cause her demise – the Prince would have been within his rights to demand her destruction –, it could also cast the shadow of doubt on her sisters… and on Nahir’s integrity.

They were Lasombra, after all; and even though they belonged to the very small minority that didn’t join the Sabbat, they were still looked at with suspicion. They might be disguising themselves as Tremere, but the Prince and his closest advisors knew what they truly were. They had to tread carefully around the other Camarilla clans in order to blend in. The unlife of Lasombra antitribu was extremely dangerous.

“We’ve been lucky that this happened so far from home,” Piper said unhappily. “We wouldn’t be able to keep this under the lid in San Francisco. The Prince has his eyes and ears everywhere. In fact, I’m not sure how we’ll be able to take her home… unless Master Nahir is planning to put her into a coffin, like in some cheesy B-movie.”

“I have no idea,” Prue admitted. “Perhaps it would be better if we took her to Los Angeles and leave her in Heather’s care. She could hide her under that club of hers, without having much to do about her comfort. Torpor is our version of coma; only that we don’t need all those machines to keep us alive.”

“Since we’re dead already,” Piper commented wryly. “Have you discussed the possibility with Master Nahir?”

“No; I thought I’ll leave it to you,” Prue suddenly grinned. “You are the girl with the common sense and the practical ideas.”

“Dream on!” Piper commented tartly. “The times when I was doing nothing else but running around, ironing out your messes – yours and Phoebe’s – are over. You’ve cooked up the idea; you’ll dish it up, too.”

They both, laughed, albeit a bit hysterically.

“I’m so glad you’re coming,” Prue then said. “I’ve missed you. You’ve always been my rock in the branding. It will be like old times: you and me, against the rest of the world.”

“More or less,” Piper replied, her voice still containing a hint of a smile. “There will be a few other people, too, this time.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Henry hoped that Vicki and Coreen would at least have the common sense to stay together. Not that either of them could have protected the other one from Astaroth or his minions, but it would make easier for him to keep an eye on them.

For that, he needed to be at full strength, though. So on his way to Vicki’s he called one of his emergency contacts; a so-called volunteer, one of a dozen or so people who were willing to… err… spend a little blood in exchange for a generous tip. He used this source as sparsely as possible, not wanting to become dependent on his herd, as he called them… and because he loved the excitement of the Hunt. Right now, though, this was an emergency – and it saved him a lot of time.

It was only a fifteen-minute delay; then he was already on his way again, well-fed and hyper-aware of his surroundings.

To his dismay, he could only hear one heartbeat upon arriving at Vicki’s place: that of Vicki herself. The two women had apparently split up, and Coreen was now probably on her way home – or already at home. Alone. Unprotected.

Henry shook his head in exasperation and let himself into Vicki’s apartment through the kitchen window. This was his best chance to remain undetected – at least for a while – since Vicki only ever used the kitchen in the morning, to make coffee. It mildly concerned him that the window was open; but again, it couldn’t really keep out Astaroth, had he decided to pay Vicki a visit.

He honed on to Vicki’s heartbeat, which revealed that she was currently in her tiny living room. Since there was no other sound that even his acute vampire hearing could have perceived, he couldn’t even guess what she was doing there. Especially as the room was completely dark; and her breathing wasn’t slow and deep enough for her to be asleep.

Still, he was mildly startled when he suddenly heard her voice. A voice that was raw with recently shed tears.

“I know you’re here, Henry. Why don’t you stop playing hide and seek and come in?”

~TBC~

Kindred Spirits, Part 4

wiseheart — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 17:00:05 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Four

This was Nahir’s first visit to the Royal Ontario Museum, and he had to admit he was impressed, despite all the wonders he had already seen in his unnaturally long life. Despite the "Crystal," the multimillion-dollar expansion to the Museum, the canted walls of which did not touch the sides of the existing heritage buildings but were used to close the envelope between the new form and the existing walls. He simply found the new building ugly and ill-fitting in its traditional surroundings. But he’d observed in the many, many years of his existence that people liked to break the harmony of their surroundings, just to get attention, no matter what kind. Especially those who considered themselves artists.

Nonetheless, with its more than six million items and forty galleries, the Museum's diverse collections of world culture and natural history contributed to its international reputation, and that was something both Nahir and Prue could appreciate very much.

They were welcomed by a certain Ms Marlowe, one of the Museum’s curators, who apparently knew Henry Fitzroy quite well.

“Of course, it was Mr. Fitzroy Senior who had been the benefactor of our museum for quite a few years,” she explained, “but he always made his donations through his bank. Mr. Fitzroy Junior, however, has frequently visited our collections since the passing of his father. Even the non-public ones.

Especially the non-public ones, I bet, Nahir thought, exchanging a darkly amused look with his Childe. The thought of King Henry VIII patronising a museum was hilarious; of course, Ms Marlowe couldn’t know who Fitzroy’s father really was. Vampires of all kinds often pretended to be their own children and grandchildren, to avoid any undue interest from the side of mortals. Sooner or later people would notice if someone didn’t grow older at all.

Chatting away amiably – clearly, she was merely the head of Administration, not an archaeologist or a historian – Ms Marlowe took Nahir and Prue to the storeroom where the Museum’s meagre early Mesopotamian collection was kept. Mostly random pieces that had found their way here by accident, the particular era in which Nahir used to live in his Warm days not being among the Museum’s main interests.

Despite that fact, the collection was still ordered professionally. Items of daily use were in one section, small statuettes in another one, clay tablets in large wooden boxes, amulets and other cultic artefacts in a showcase, behind bullet-proof glass.

“These two are the ones that cause our experts the most headache,” Ms Marlowe opened the showcase with an elaborately wrought little key and indicated two amulets on the lower shelf. “They aren’t important enough to have a Carbon-14 dating made… we have to consider the costs, you know. So we were really happy when Doctor Sagara said she knew somebody who could probably authenticate them without one.”

“I can try,” Nahir replied. “If you’d allow my colleague to take detailed photos it would be helpful, though. Magnifying such photos can reveal details that otherwise remain invisible for the naked eye.”

Ms Marlowe nodded. “Of course, As long as you don’t damage the artefacts and don’t take them out of this room, they’re all yours,” she took an apologetic glance at her wrist watch. “I’m afraid I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. Would an hour be enough for the preliminary examination of the objects? I’ll come back and let you out again then.”

“That is very generous of you, thanks,” Nahir answered diplomatically. He didn’t like the idea of being shut in, but he knew he could easily break down any doors to get out if needs must be. “We’ll take our photos and make our notes in the meantime, and return in a few days when we’ve analysed them.”

That was fine with Ms Marlowe, who couldn’t know that they needed those few days for Fitzroy to make a perfect copy, and so she left them alone. When they could be sure that she was out of earshot (and had searched the room for surveillance devices thoroughly), Prue looked at Nahir askance.

“What do you think of the objects, Sire?”

Nahir weighed one of the objects in his palm thoughtfully.

“This one is clearly an Akkadian seal from 2350-2150 BC, depicting the goddess Ishtar. That was the time when they showed her with weapons on her back, a horned helmet, wings and trampling a lion. These weren’t really cult objects; they did serve for protection, sure, but protection by the secular powers. They had no power on their own.”

“So this one is worthless, then?” Prue clarified.

“Worthless for our purpose,” Nahir corrected. “As an artefact of several millennia it is very valuable for the archaeologists. Take a few photos, just in case someone gets interested in our research… or Fitzroy can use them as inspiration.”

Prue nodded and did as she was told.

“What about the other object?” she then asked.

Nahir picked up the relic reverently. Oh, he recognized it at once; and, if the fine tremors running through the object were any indication, the amulet recognized him, too. It was made of meteoric iron – considered a sacred, heavenly substance at a time when bronze used to be the metal used for just about everything – and depicted a winged female figure in front of an eight-pointed star, standing on a pair of lions. The figure was naked, save for a conic headdress – which could or could not represent her hairdo, Nahir didn’t quite remember which was true – had feet like a bird of prey, held two symbolic tools in her hands and was flanked by two owls.

“She does have some Hindu traits,” Prue commented, eyeing the amulet with interest.

Nahir nodded. “Quite different from the warrior angel in whose memory people created her image, since spiritual beings do not have a specific gender. They are neither male nor female – or both, depending on your point of view.”

“What about demons, though?” Prue asked. “Some of them are real enough and can be considered as male or female, can’t they?”

“The lesser demons, those who came into being through the corruption of living creatures by dark magic, usually keep their original nature,” Nahir answered with a shrug. “Like incubi or succubi. The great ones, however, the fallen angels, remain purely spiritual beings, regardless of what shape they may take on to mislead the clueless mortals.”

“And where do we stand in this order?” Prue wondered.

“We came from the same stock as mortals,” Nahir explained. “Through Caine and his first wife, Lilith. Our scholars say that our… nature us but the consequence of Caine’s curse. That is why we live so long… to share the punishment of our ancestor.”

“But we aren’t really immortal, are we?”

“No; we live long, but one day we reach a point where we cannot go on any longer. Those who reach this point either lie down and fade away… or take a walk in the sun.”

“How long does it take to reach that point? I mean you’ve been around for thirteen millennia…”

“A considerable part of which I spent in torpor,” Nahir reminded her. “That is a question no-one can truly answer. Especially as the overwhelming majority of our kind tends to die a violent death; either by the hand of vampire hunters or in the constant struggle between the Camarilla and the Sabbat… or in the Clan wars that tend to break out in irregular intervals.”

“Which only underscores the importance of the Masquerade,” Prue said thoughtfully. “Even the True Undead seem to understand the need for secrecy… at least the sane ones among them, like Henry Fitzroy.”

Nahir gave her an amused look. “You like him, don’t you?”

“We both do,” Prue admitted. “He’s pretty; and a five-hundred-year-old Tudor prince. Where does one meet somebody like that, save for yourself and Olivier?”

“Oh, there are quite a few old ones still,” Nahir laughed. “But I admit that no-one of them is a prince; not in the mortal sense of the word anyway. I’d like the two of you to watch your steps around the little prince, though. Ms Nelson seems to be very protective - I’d even say jealous - about him.”

“I doubt that she could do much if we had an interest in her pet vampire,” Pure said matter-of-factly. “She is a half-blind mortal; she wouldn’t have had a chance against us even when we were still mortals, too.”

“I would not underestimate a determined mortal in protective mode if I were you,” Nahir warned. “Even less one who’s been facing the supernatural for almost two years and lived to tell the tale.”

Prue was about to answer when her phone rang. She picked it up automatically. “Prue Halliwell.”

“Charmed,” the sarcastic voice of Ms Nelson answered. “If you’d like to see your sister in any other shape than that of a pile of ash, I suggest that you get back here, now.”

And with that, she broke the connection. Prue stared at Nahir, whose acute vampire hearing enabled him to follow the short connection, in a shock.

“What could Phoebe possibly have done?”

“Guesswork won’t help us here,” Nahir glanced at his watch. “Ms Marlowe is going to let us out in six minutes. Did you get all the photos we might need? Good. I suggest we collect our gear then, so that we’d be able to leave here as soon as possible."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Phoebe could barely wait for Prue and Master Nahir to leave the house. Having them out of her hair meant that she could search the haven of their host undisturbed. Prue would find that unethical and Master Nahir would forbid it, not wanting to antagonize their somewhat reluctant ally. They would keep harping about etiquette and invasive behaviour and the sanctity of a vampire’s haven and all that.

Personally, Phoebe had do patience for such outdated ideas. Henry Fitzroy was an unknown factor, despite Doctor Sagara’s reassurance that he was on the side of the good guys. Besides, the old woman was clearly smitten with the little prince – perhaps a reminder of a torrid affair from the time when she was young. So her opinion was hardly unbiased.

Therefore it was only logical that they should search his rooms for any sign of dark magic or demonic influences. And if Prue and Master Nahir were too queasy to do so, then it was up to Phoebe to act.

It wasn’t so as if the True Undead could have hindered her – or caught her red-handed – during daytime!

There were the two mortal women in the next apartment, of course, but they hardly counted. A simple containing spell put on their door took care of that. Something Phoebe could do in her sleep, even before she became a vampire.

Opening Henry’s door wasn’t a challenge, either. She might not be a telekinetic like Prue, but opening spells were child’s play. The door made no sound when it swung inward, allowing her into the completely dark apartment; the blinds were shut, for obvious reasons. For the night eyes of a Kindred, though, that was no hindrance.

She looked around with interest and found the somewhat eclectic mix of old and modern styles in which the apartment was arranged a little jarring. She could imagine that Piper – and even more so Paige – would like it, however. Paige had fairly disturbing preferences, and Piper could be a tad old-fashioned sometimes. Well, at least the library was amazingly well-stocked where the occult and the supernatural were concerned.

But before she would start browsing, she simply had to catch a glance of the dark young prince. She had never seen a True Undead in their daytime torpor, and that was something she didn’t want to miss.

She entered his bedroom on tiptoes; not that he’d have heard her, even if she had made more noise than a charging elephant. He was dead for the world, was lying in his bed, covered only by a light blanket from the waist down, like a grave effigy.

Or like a Greek statue from ancient times: beautiful, timeless, with finely-cut, even features, curly hair and a well-defined, lightly furred chest.

Phoebe was smitten. Ever since her torrid affair with Cole (who had been quite the handsome devil for a half-demon, at least in his human form), she’d had a thing for chest hair. And now here she was, alone with this beautiful youngling – all right, five-hundred-year-old vampire, but that fact didn’t change his good looks –, undisturbed by her holier-than-thou sister and by her Sire who had decidedly outdated views on just about everything… small wonder, considering that he was older than dirt, really.

In any case, they were safely away and not expected to return for some time. So why shouldn’t she… indulge herself a little in their absence?

She extended a talon and circled with it a nipple. The prince did not react, which clearly showed the profound difference between the daylight torpor of the True Undead and normal vampire sleep. She added a little more pressure and watched with fascination as a few ruby-red droplets appeared upon the prince’s marble white chest.

The sight – not to mention the scent was beyond alluring. She simply could not resist, Quietly, carefully, like a sleek cat, she climbed onto the bed - there was certainly room enough for two people, or even more –, her little pink tongue darting out on its own as she lapped up the enticing drops of blood.

That first, brief taste gave her a heady feeling. The Vitae of the True Undead had more than just a touch of the Wild. She felt her restraint crumble and knew she wouldn’t be able to stop there, even if she wanted.

She did not want to stop, though. She wanted more of this dark, intoxicating blood; she wanted it all. The effect was not unlike that which she had experienced back in her rebellious teenage years when she had a brief phase of experimenting with drugs; it washed away her control.

Her fangs dropped, and she changed into her true face, ready to drain the prince till Final Death.

However, in that very moment she felt excruciating pain in the back of her head and fell forward, losing consciousness.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I didn’t know you could knock out a vampire with a baton,” Coreen said in surprise.

Vicki shrugged. “Henry said once that every creature with a central nervous system can be knocked out if only you hit their head hard enough.”

“You clearly did hit her hard enough,” Coreen commented. “I think you actually broke her skull.”

Vicki shrugged again. “She’ll heal. I was… motivated.”

“I can see that,” Coring grinned briefly before becoming worried again. “I don’t think she’ll remain unconscious for too long. Do you have a plan how to keep her restrained until Henry wakes up or the others return?”

“I have more than just a plan,” Vicki replied darkly. “Much more than that.”

And she took a small gold disc from her pocket. It looked like a depiction of the Sun, complete with rays, but it had a human-looking face. Seeing it Coreen became deathly pale.

“Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“If you mean the Illuminación del Sol, then yes, it is,” Vicki answered.

Coreen shook her head is shock. “You kept it… why? You’ve seen what it can do!”

“Exactly,” Vicki said. “I kept it because I wanted something I could use any strange vampires that might threaten Henry. And it seems to have been a good decision, doesn’t it?”

“But Vicki, you can’t really use it!” Coreen protested, horrified.

“Watch me!” Vicky said grimly and slammed the thing onto the chest of the vampiress, right above her heart. The rays came alive and buried themselves into Phoebe’s flesh, until they reached his heart. Even unconscious, the vampiress groaned in pain. “Bring me a chair; a strong one. The strongest one you can find.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know if the thing will make her immobile. She’s young and recently turned, but I don’t know what her kind is capable of. So I’ll shackle her to a chair, just in case.”

“You’ve got handcuffs on you?”

Vicki gave her assistant an exasperated glare. “Hello! Ex-cop, remember? Now, bring me that chair as long as she’s still out like a light. Because once she comes to, she’s gonna be pissed.”

Frightened by this unexpected turn of events, Coreen hurriedly brought a sturdy chair from Henry’s (mostly unused) kitchen. As it turned out, Vicki had two pairs of handcuffs on her person, and now she shackled both wrists and ankles of the vampiress to the chair. Then she began to drag the chair out of Henry’s bedroom.

“What are you doing?” A completely baffled Coreen asked.

“I won’t have her anywhere near Henry; not while he’s vulnerable,” Vicki replied through gritted teeth.

Coreen nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Where do we take her?”

“Back to her own room,” Vicki shrugged. “I’d prefer our apartment, but we can’t return as long as her spell blocks the door.”

“A good thing she didn’t think of the balcony and the fire ladder, or we’d never have gotten out,” Coreen grabbed the other side of the chair and together they were able to lift it, together with their captive; fortunately, Phoebe was small and light. “Do you think she blocked their own door, too?”

“I don’t think so; she was too eager to get to Henry before the others would return,” Vicki said. “She wouldn’t expect anyone to surprise her.”

Fortunately, her guess proved right. The front door of the apartment where the three visiting vampires had been put up was just closed, not shut. Vicki and Coreen dragged the chair with the unconscious, yet softly moaning vampiress into the living room and used the decorative ropes the curtains were bound with to fix her even more to the chair.

Vicki pulled the curtains together – she didn’t want to kill her, at least not yet –, then took out her phone and dialled the number Phoebe’s sister gave her for emergencies.

The older vampiress answered the call immediately. “Prue Halliwell.”

“Charmed,” Vicki replied sarcastically. “If you’d like to see your sister in any other shape than that of a pile of ash, I suggest that you get back here, now.”

She broke the connection and gave Coreen a grim smile. “Let’s see how these arrogant sods react when they’re not in a superior position for a change.”

~TBC~

Kindred Spirits, Part 3

wiseheart — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 16:58:04 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Three

Needless to say that Dr. Sagara had been right: Henry didn’t like the idea of exposing Vicki to the demon. But after his first, instinctive reaction he tried to think over the problem rationally and had to admit that it was truly necessary. If for no other reason then to free Vicki from Astaroth – or whichever demon it might be – once and forever.

Of course, he needed to persuade Vicky about the necessity; and for that he needed her to be present at the meeting with the undead experts. The only question was how to get her there. Perhaps for the first time since they met, he was not sure that she would come just because he called.

But she might come if Coreen called. After all, hadn’t she let the chance of getting rid of Astaroth slip from her hands just to save the girl?

“I don’t understand,” Coreen said when he called her, less than an hour before the meeting. “I thought you didn’t want these people to learn about Vicki.”

“I still don’t,” Henry admitted. “But I talked to Bettie… I mean Doctor Sagara, and she persuaded me that we need to involve her.”

“Because…?”

“Because that is our only chance to protect Vicki… and perhaps even free her from those marks.”

“Is that possible at all?” Coreen asked doubtfully. “I mean, I wish it would be, but even if that amulet is authentic, we only have the word of a stranger that it will actually work.”

“Doctor Sagara seems to believe it will,” Henry said tiredly. “And I’ve come to trust her in such matters.”

He didn’t want to tell the girl about the Legacy. It wasn’t his secret to reveal and besides, Coreen managed to get in enough trouble on her own.

“All right,” she said after a lengthy pause, “but what am I supposed to tell Vicki?”

“The truth,” Henry replied simply. “That we might have found a way to deal with the demon, but she is needed for it. I just hope she’ll be willing to come.”

“Are you kidding? It’s Vicki Nelson we’re talking about. Of course she’ll come. She wants to get rid of Astaroth as much as we do… well, I think she wants it more than the rest of us together.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Theoretically that was true, of course. Practically, however, the last thing Vicki wanted to do was going on demon hunt – with Henry of all people. She had several very good reasons to feel guilty when it came to the vampire prince. Henry might have forgiven her for taking his blood against his will to use it in a dark ritual against Pachacamac (although she wasn’t entirely sure about that), but even if he had, that didn’t change the fact that she betrayed his trust.

And that she had allowed darkness to touch her soul. First to get rid of Pachacamac, and not much later when she used Astaroth’s power to save Coreen. Henry never liked her dabbling in dark magic – or anyone else, for that matter. He knew that even the lightest touch of it would have a mark on one’s soul.

Unfortunately, people usually ignored his warnings.

And yet Henry asked her to go to Vancouver with him. She had to admit that it was tempting; because before everything else it proved that Henry still cared for her. He might be mad at her (hell, he was mad at her without the slightest doubt), but at least he still wanted to be with her – unlike Mike who simply walked out on her and never called from that day on.

That was hard to bear. Her relationship with Mike had always been somewhat volatile, at least the emotional part of it, but first and foremost they had been friends. Friends and partners in more than one way.

Until her eyesight started to fail and she could no longer continue at the force as before.

Until she met Henry.

Because from that day on Mike tended to blame Henry for everything that happened to Vicki – and in extension to himself. Even if none of those things were actually Henry’s fault. Vicki chose to walk into potentially deadly situations connected to the supernatural despite Henry’s warnings. The rest had been a result of Mike’s personal little witch hunt against the vampire, born of jealousy and a deep-rooted inferiority complex.

Not that anyone could blame him for the latter. It would be hard for a mere mortal to compare himself with Henry and not feel inferior. Vampire powers aside, he was the son of Henry VIII, for Christ’s sake; a Tudor prince who had lived nearly half a millennium, seen much of human history and collected an almost encyclopaedic knowledge.

That he barely looked twenty, was handsome and charismatic, not to mention a highly successful artist with a huge following just added insult to injury for the average Joe like Mike.

Vicki liked Mike and hated the thought of losing their long-time camaraderie. But she had to admit that their bond had begun to erode from the day on she had to quit the force. The prospect of losing her eyesight had changed her profoundly; but perhaps it also made her more perceptive for things she would have refused to accept before.

Like vampires, demons, zombies, murderous ghosts and all the supernatural shit she was now dealing with on a daily basis.

Mike, on the other hand, was still his old, somewhat pedestrian self, even though he had been forced to reluctantly admit the existence of such things. He was trying, she had to give him that, but his attempts never ended well... for him or for others.

Perhaps he was trying too hard. Perhaps Vicki shouldn’t have made him help her all the time. Perhaps then he wouldn’t have ended up in suspension, fearing for his job that was as important to him as hers had been to her.

She admitted being something of a bully sometimes. That made her such a good cop. But it also made her less than a really good friend.

Which was likely the reason why she was about to lose them both, Mike and Henry. All right, so Henry had asked her to go to Vancouver with him. But what could she possibly do in Vancouver? In Toronto she knew the neighbourhood like the back of her hand. Even if she turned completely blind (which was only a matter of time), she had a better chance to cope here than anywhere else.

Henry might find the idea of spending a few decades with caring for a blind woman he had some feelings for perfectly acceptable. He did have the time, after all. But Vicki Nelson wasn’t the kind of woman who could live in complete dependence from another person. Not if she had the chance to manage on her own.

A chance that was much better by staying in Toronto. Other blind people learned to live independently in their familiar surroundings. She was going to learn, too.

Even if she broke Henry’s undead heart with the refusal. He had lost before: siblings, friends, lovers. He would cope. He had no other choice. But if he needed Vicki’s help with getting rid of Astaroth first, it was her duty to help him. She and Coreen had managed between them to let loose the demon on the world. The least they could do was to help dealing with the beast.

Especially now that they might even get some efficient help.

And that was why she had agreed to meet Coreen and Henry in Henry’s place, two hours after sunset.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Nahir found Fitzroy’s choice of helpers… interesting, to say the least. Especially the fact that they were all women, although it was said that the charm of the dark little prince worked on men just as well. Yet here he was, surrounded by three women who couldn’t have been more different if they tried.

At least Dr. Sagara was a known quality. Nahir had heard about her from his associates within the Legacy, and she was said to be intelligent, careful and brave, despite being beyond her first youth. The lead demonologist of the Legacy wouldn’t work with just anyone.

The Goth girl was clearly very young; a student perhaps, but with knowledge that went beyond young people’s unhealthy interest in things they should better leave alone. Her eyes belied her apparent youth; those were eyes that had seen much, little of which had been pleasant. She would have made a beautiful Childe, though; it was a real shame that the True Undead had lost the ability of building families.

The third woman appeared fairly plain at first sight; a firm, trim body but a face that was a dozen a dime. However, Nahir could feel the strength of her personality as soon as she entered the room; she seemed stubborn, determined, loyal and insanely brave. It was good to see that somebody like Fitzroy was looking for more than just a pretty face. Clearly, there was still hope for the younger generations, even if they belonged to the True Undead.

Which in itself was a real shame. Fitzroy wasn’t Lasombra material, but he’d have made a magnificent Toreador and risen among the ranks of that Clan in record time. What little Nahir had learned about the boy’s Sire spoke of a Toreador siren. Even among the corrupted bloodlines of the True Undead, some of the original Clan characteristics would clearly resurface from time to time.

Their host made the introductions, and Nahir was a bit startled while shaking hands with both younger women. He could feel the same dark residues in them that were still lingering in Phoebe due to her acquaintance with Belthazor. These women, too, were touched by darkness; the Goth girl, whose name was apparently Coreen Fennel, carried the echoes of the recently possessed. As for Vicki Nelson…

Nahir could feel the twin spots of dark magic marking her before he’d see the actual marks. He turned over her hand to stare at the inside of her wrist… and froze for a moment.

“Tell me, Ms Nelson, what could have possibly move you to acquire such marks?”

She scowled at him, hostility radiating from her. “It wasn’t exactly my choice, you know.”

“He doesn’t,” Fitzroy intervened calmly. “He can’t know that you haven’t chosen to bear these marks,” he turned to Nahir. “She was chosen, without volunteering, and has been fighting the consequences ever since. Part of the reason why we’re trying to ban Astaroth is to free her.”

“Mother Verena assumes that once the demon is gone, the marks can be removed with the help of the amulet,” Dr. Sagara added. “If it is the genuine item.”

“I’ll make the authentification tomorrow,” Nahir promised. “The real amulet would indeed have the power to do that; by taking on her name – well, one of her names – Astaroth also absorbed a considerable amount of Inanna’s powers… but not enough to beat Inanna herself, or any object of protection given by her to her followers. She is the rightful owner of those powers, and they can be broken in a thief when the user of the amulet is entitled to wield it.”

“And you are?” Ms Nelson asked doubtfully. “Entitled to use it, I mean?”

“Yes,” Nahir replied simply.

“I’ll give you the details later,” Fitzroy promised Ms Nelson who still looked more than a little doubtful.

“Let’s assume that the amulet is genuine,” Dr. Sagara said. “How are we supposed to handle it?”

“First we’ll need a copy; a very good one,” Nahir nodded to Fitzroy. “Here is where you come into the game. Prue is an excellent photographer and will provide you with extremely detailed pictures that we shall mail you as soon as they are taken. Then I’ll ask for a second chance to document the artefact for my university; during which I’ll swap it for the copy.”

“And how are you gonna change it back when you’re done? Ms Nelson asked.

Nahir shook his head. “I won’t. If the artefact is the genuine item, it would be too dangerous to leave it in the museum. I’ll entrust it to the Luna Foundation. They are equipped and trained to keep such artefacts safe.”

“Has their San Francisco House reopened already?” Dr. Sagara asked in surprise. She was the only one from the other party who knew that the Luna Foundation was the cover organization of the Legacy.

Nahir nodded. “The rebuilding was just finished when we left; and since Doctor Rayne has recovered from his ordeal, he can take over his duties again. Several of his old co-workers chose to return as well, with the exception of Father Callaghan and Alex Moreau, who have transferred to the Los Angeles House.”

“That is reassuring,” Dr. Sagara said, clearly relieved.

“Is it?” Fitzroy obviously disagreed.

Dr. Sagara nodded. “Trust me in this, Henry. No-where else would that amulet be safer than in the secure vaults of the Luna Foundation.”

“How would you know that?”

“I know them. I used to work for them. Or do you think I’ve gained my knowledge about the supernatural on the internet?”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with internet research!” The girl – Coreen – protested.

“Nothing save for the fact that it is superficial, often inadequate and in most cases misleading,” Dr. Sagara said dryly.

The girl seemed as if she’d argue but a glare from Ms Nelson silenced her. Dr. Sagara turned to Nahir then.

“All right,” she said. “You and Henry will see to the amulet. Let’s assume that it is the genuine item and that you’ll be able to use it. For that, we’ll have to summon the demon; and we’ll need a place where we can do it, without innocent bystanders getting endangered.”

“What about the empty church where this Mendoza character held Henry captive?” Ms Nelson suggested.

Nahir nodded. “That should work. Sacred grounds are always easier warded. But let me ask something, Doctor Sagara: you keep saying the demon. Do you have reason to believe that it’s not, in fact, Astaroth?”

“Mother Verena seems to believe so,” Dr. Sagara explained. “She said that student must have summoned one of Astaroth’s minions, due to a butchered ritual.”

“He has,” Fitzroy said grimly. “The original one was a lesser demon, sent by Astaroth to create a gateway for him, though which he could enter our world. But the one Coreen’s fortune teller summoned was Astaroth all right. I recognized him… and he recognized me.”

“And what were you doing, dallying with a demon?” Nahir demanded. This could seriously complicate things!

Fitzroy shrugged. “I wouldn’t exactly call it dallying,” he replied dryly. “A secret cult of benighted idiots wanted to sacrifice me to Astaroth… and nearly succeeded. So believe me, I would recognize him, regardless of the circumstances.”

“Good; that might prove useful,” Nahir said, hiding his relief; the last thing they needed would have been a True Undead working with the demon, however involuntarily. “You should be present at the ritual, then.”

“Oh, I shall most certainly be there,” Fitzroy’s eyes turned black. “I won’t let Victoria face Astaroth alone.”

“Which reminds me of something,” Prue said. “We should protect Ms Nelson somehow until we’re ready to face the demon, lest he manages to catch her alone.”

“I don’t need you to protect me!” Ms Nelson shot her an unfriendly look. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, because it’s worked so brilliantly so far, hasn’t it?” Prue gave her marks a pointed look. “Be reasonable; this is several magnitudes too large for a mere mortal.”

“You’d be surprised what this mere mortal is capable of dealing with,” Ms Nelson returned sharply. “Besides, I’ve got Henry.”

“Who’s completely useless during the day,” Phoebe commented tactlessly.

“Fortunately, Astaroth is a nocturnal demon who’s most powerful between the tenth and eleventh hours of the night,” Fitzroy countered without missing a beat. “Which is the time when I am the strongest, too.”

“Nonetheless, I think Miss Halliwell is right,” Dr. Sagara said with a nod in Prue’s direction. “Vicki, you and Coreen should stay somewhere safe for the next few days. Someplace that can be warded.”

“They could stay with me,” Fitzroy offered.

“That would probably be the best,” Nahir agreed. “Prue and Phoebe can set up strong wards around this entire floor; that way we all would be protected.”

Prue nodded. “We can do that on our own, of course. But I believe we’ll need Piper for the final act.”

“I seriously doubt that the Power of Three would be of much use against a demon of Astaroth’s magnitude,” Nahir said. “That’s why we need the amulet.”

“I know that, Sire. I was thinking of her gift of molecular immobilization.”

“She won’t be able to freeze Astaroth longer than for a few seconds,” Nahir pointed out.

“A few seconds could make a difference between life and death, though,” Prue reminded him.

Nahir considered that for a moment.

“True,” he finally decided. “As much as I dislike endangering all three of you, we must prepare for all eventualities. I’m calling her tonight,” he rose. “If you’ll excuse us… with Mr. Fitzroy’s permission we’ll go Hunting. I’m expected in the Royal Ontario Museum tomorrow, and I’ll need to be well-fed to go out during daytime.”

Fitzroy nodded. “Certainly. The rules of your Camarilla match the ways I act; and this is an emergency, after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Isn’t it very hard for you to have a bunch of strange vampires, not only in your territory but practically next door?” Vicki asked when the others left and she remained alone with Henry and Coreen.

“It is a bit disturbing,” Henry admitted. “But since they’re a different kind of vampires, my instincts don’t react as strongly to them as they would to one of my own.”

“They’re Kindred, aren’t they?” Coreen’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “There’s a great deal about them in the demon database. Is it true that they can even endure sunlight for a limited time or did the professor pull our leg?”

Henry nodded. “It is true. They are the eldest branch of our species; my kind came into existence millennia later.”

"Vampires also have something akin to natural mutation then?” Coreen asked in surprise. “I thought only living beings are prone to spontaneous changes.”

“In our case it most likely was the turning process gone awry, although no-one can tell for certain,” Henry shrugged. “Since we can’t change it, there’s no use brooding over the fact. We are what w are, each his or her own way.”

“But what is that molecular immobilization Prue was talking about?” Vicki asked. “Have you heard about that before?”

Henry nodded. “Some people have the power to ‘freeze time’, to put it simply. It’s an extremely rare gift that Miss Halliwell – the middle one – apparently already had as a mortal. The Halliwell sisters come from a long line of powerful witches, and they’re the strongest when they can combine their abilities, or so Bettie told me.”

“The Power of Three?” Coreen asked.

The vampire nodded again. “Exactly. And if Miss Halliwell really can freeze Astaroth mid-action, even if only for a few seconds, that could be all we need to succeed.”

“Like giving Professor Martin the chance to use the amulet,” Vicki guessed. “Do you think it could actually work?”

“I hope so,” Henry replied grimly. “Because we’ll need every advantage we can have.”

~TBC~

Kindred Spirits, Part 2

wiseheart — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 16:53:33 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part Two

Coreen Fennel was overwhelmed by a feeling that – under different circumstances – she’d find unworthy any self-respecting Goth: she was fed up to the eyeteeth with the supernatural. But that was understandable, she argued with herself. Being possessed by a demon could do that, even to the most devout Goth.

So yeah, she’d have been happy to quit her job at Nelson Investigations, even if they hadn’t anything else bust the most boring divorce cases in the foreseeable future (Ha! Fat chance for that to happen!), take off her Goth make-up, change her entire garderobe and pick up gardening somewhere in the countryside.

Only she couldn’t do it, could she? Astaroth was still at large, and she was personally responsible for that. The fact that she hadn’t intended to cause it didn’t really matter in the face of the consequences. Vicky, Mike and Henry were no longer in speaking terms, Madame Andrea was dead and Father Cascioli was now possessed by the demon. And it was her fault!

That she had only wanted to help Vicki get a grip on her love life didn’t change the outcome of things.

So no, she couldn’t afford the luxury of backing off. The least she could do was to help Vicki figure out a way to deal with the demon, once and forever.

It was fortunate indeed that she stumbled upon that demon database on the internet… operated by a nun of all people. Or by several nuns? She wasn’t really sure. The earlier entries were authored by somebody called Sr. Grace Cole OSB (after some research she found out, to her disappointment, that the abbreviation simply meant a member of the Benedictine order), the later ones by a M. Verena.

Just like that. No last name, no scientific or religious specifications. Nothing.

Why had there been a change of site administrators Coreen didn’t know and frankly, she didn’t care. What counted was that the nun(s) seemed to know their shit. There were creatures listed (aside from mere demons, werewolves and at least three different kinds of vampires) that she hadn’t even heard of before.

And since the database was meticulously ordered, it didn’t take her long to find the article about Astaroth. It was a long one, started by Sr. Grace and repeatedly updated by half a dozen people, including M. Verena, Rupert Giles, Wesley Wyndham-Price, Anya Jenkins and, as a last entry, by a certain Professor Rudolph Martin, PhD.

It began with a lengthy historical introduction. As a rule Coreen found such things boring, but this time she found she couldn’t afford to ignore it. So she sighed and began to read.

“Astaroth was originally a demonic goddess,” Sr. Grace wrote. “The name is derived from that of the Phoenician goddess Astarte (2nd millennium BC), and equivalent of the Babylonian Ishtar and the earlier Sumerian Inanna…”

There came an extremely detailed explanation of how the original name became distorted through translation into Hebrew, then into ancient Greek and Latin. She quickly scanned this part as it obviously didn’t contain any useful information.

Useful for her, that is.

It took several pages until she reached something that seemed at least a little familiar, written in a pedantic, academic manner by somebody called Rupert Giles.

“The name Astaroth as a male demon is first known from The Book of Abramelin, written in Hebrew around 1458, and recurred in most occult grimoires of the following centuries. Astaroth also features as an arch-demon associated to the glipshoth (adverse forces) according to later Kabbalistic texts.”

“Now we’re were getting somewhere,” Coreen muttered. She didn’t really know what the Kabbala was (meaning: not at all!), but the article offered several promising links, and she started clicking through them, one after another.

The further she got, the faster did she lose all remaining hope.

If the experts of the Demon Database were right – and she didn’t see a reason why they shouldn’t be – then not even Henry could stand a chance, once the demon had grown into his full strength. Their divided little group might have some time left, but not much. And even as things stood now, their chances were slim at best.

And that slim chance could only work if they put aside their grievances and worked together again. Even if only for one last time.

But who would make the all-deciding first step? Vicki and the two guys were all too proud for their own good. Besides, she, Coreen, had to make amends, had she not? What was her pride compared with the importance of the gargantuan task at their hands?

That decided, the only remaining question was: whom should she call first?

Fortunately, the chance was taken out of her hand when her cell phone rang. With guilt mixed with relief did she recognize the number: it was Henry’s.

“Coreen, we need to talk; in person,” the vampire said without preamble as soon as she answered his call.

She was so surprised that she could barely answer. She thought she’d be the last person Henry would want to see. Ever.

“Sure; I was about to call you anyway,” she finally managed; it wasn’t a lie, not exactly. “You see, I’ve found this demon database on the internet, and it’s really cool, these people know theirs tuff, but…” she ran out of breath, and after a pause she added glumly. “But I really think we’ve got a problem here. A bigger one than we’ve ever thought.”

“I know,” Henry replied. “I’ve just got an unexpected visit from some experts… but I’d like you to check a few things for me. Just so that I can be reasonably sure they’re telling me the truth.”

“Of course, Henry, I can do that,” Coreen was immensely relieved by the chance to actually do something. Something useful. “What do you need?”

“Everything you can find about an ancient Sumerian goddess named Inanna,” the vampire said. “Especially any possible connection between her and Astaroth. And everything you can find out about a certain Professor Rudolph Martin. I’ve already done some internet research on him, but the results are sparse at best. Perhaps your… special skills can prove useful in this case.”

The emphasis revealed that he was meaning her skills as a hacker. She giggled nervously.

“I’ll give my best, I promise! But Henry, the guy you’ve asked about… I’ve found several articles in the demon database I mentioned that were written by him. So whoever he might be, he knows a lot about such things.”

“Well…” Henry said slowly, “that is reassuring… to an extent.”

“It is?” Coreen wasn’t sure she understood what he was hinting at; all right, she didn’t have the faintest idea, but it was always wise to admit one’s complete ignorance. “Well, I’ve been doing a bit of research of my own when you called, and I’ve just read some stuff on this Inanna chick… funny coincidence, isn’t it?”

“If you believe in coincidences,” the vampire replied dryly. “Found anything interesting?”

“Not really, but I was mostly looking for stuff about Astaroth. Is there anything you want to know specifically?”

“Yes. There’s an amulet in the Royal Ontario Museum, some artefact found at an excavation site fifty or so years ago. It’s supposedly Sumerian – which is why it isn’t in any of the displays – and once belonged to the Eanna Temple in Uruk. It’s supposed to be thirteen thousand years old. I’d like to know, if it’s possible to find out, what its purpose might have been.”

Coreen’s heart sank. History really, really wasn’t her forte; quite frankly, she found it deadly boring, unless it had any connection to the occult. But she was good at internet research, and she owed Henry all the help she could offer.

“That’s a tough one, but I see what I can do,” she promised. “Do you want me to mail you the results?”

“Actually, I’d prefer if you could bring them in person,” Henry replied. “I’m having a meeting with those experts tomorrow, and I’d like to have someone to watch my back.”

Coreen blinked a few times. This was actually flattering. In fact, it was the most flattering thing Henry ever said to her.

“Well, sure,” she said as soon as the moment of bafflement was over. “But are you sure you wouldn’t rather have Vicki there?”

“No!” Henry said promptly. “I don’t want these people to see her marks. I don’t even want them to know of her; not until I can be certain that they wouldn’t stab us in the back.”

“If you’re so unsure about them why are you working with them in the first place?” Coreen asked in understandable confusion. It was uncharacteristic for Henry to work with people he didn’t trust.

“Because they actually might be able to help,” the vampire answered grimly. “And because I’m desperate.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“So, what do you think about our host?” Nahir asked his Childer on the next day. The undead prince was in day-sleep, unaware of his surroundings (a specific weakness of his kind), so they could discuss things without being overheard.

“Well, he’s pretty,” Phoebe said with a saucy grin. Nahir rolled his eyes.

“Aside from that. I haven’t brought you with me to drool over his looks but to monitor his emotional state. You are the empath; the rest of us can’t do it.”

He knew it was a risk to bring Phoebe when they were about to battle a powerful demon. Since her involvement with Belthazor, she was particularly vulnerable to demonic influences, even after her Embrace and Becoming. But she was the only one of the Halliwell sisters with empathic powers and premonition; they needed her.”

“Sire, why is important for us the emotional state of Mr. Fitzroy?” Prue asked. “As long as he helps us laying hand on the amulet…”

“It is not that simple,” Nahir sighed. “According to Doctor Sagara he is personally involved in this case… because of a mortal woman. I don’t know the details, but I was told that it could make him unpredictable at best.”

“Love usually has that effect,” Prue stole a glance at her sister. “We all fear losing someone who means a lot to us… and are devastated when our fears come true.”

“Why doesn’t he Embrace her then?” Phoebe asked. “That way he could keep her forever.”

Nahir shook his head. “It wouldn’t work. The True Undead are very territorial. Usually there’s only one of them in any given territory; and if another one enters it, they fight to the death for ownership. They wouldn’t be able to remain together if he turned her.”

“That’s sad,” Prue commented. “He’ll lose her in any case, one way or another. I understand why he’d go extreme lengths to protect her.”

Phoebe shrugged. “So what? He’s out like a light for half a day each day. We are not. It would be easy to overwhelm him, should he cause any problems.”

“Except that it would be extremely bad manners to kill an ally – who’s even opened his personal haven for us – in his sleep,” Nahir said dryly. “Not to mention that Doctor Sagara wouldn’t react well to such an action. We’d have the Legacy hunters on our trail in no time, and even I would be hard pressed to deal with them.”

“Oh, come on!” Phoebe rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You’re the oldest, more powerful vampire on this planet; what could they possibly do to harm you?”

“Every dumb farm boy could kill me – all of us – with the help of a canister of petrol and a match if he caught us unawares,” Nahir pointed out. “We are not invincible, despite our powers. And the Legacy hunters know more methods to eliminate us than just petrol and a match. So try to curb your bloodthirsty instincts, Childe, and think before you speak, or you can get us in great trouble – with the very people we are supposed to work with.

Phoebe shut her mouth but her stance practically radiated belligerence. Nahir suppressed a sigh. He’d have to discipline his youngest Childe severely, once they returned to San Francisco. Right now, he needed to make her understand.

“Phoebe,” he began with forced patience, “Doctor Elizabeth Sagara used to be a member of the New York Legacy House. She accepted a teaching job in Toronto right before her House would fall to the Sabbat. She knows more of the things – and creatures – that bump in the night than probably anyone in this city; and she is an old friend of Henry Fitzroy. So, unless you think we should eliminate her, too, I suggest you forget about eliminating him.”

“Besides, we’ve accepted the Embrace to fight evil; not to become evil,” Prue added quietly.

“You accepted it,” Phoebe muttered bitterly. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“Still more than I had when you decided that it would be a good idea to cast a spell and turn all three of us into witches,” Prue shot back, her eyes darkening in anger.

Nahir raised his hand in a forbidding gesture. “That is enough, Childer. What is done is done and we have to make the best of it. And now, Phoebe, try to behave like an adult and do what I’ve brought you here for. Tell me what have you felt from Fitzroy.”

He added a strong mental warning with the last sentence and Phoebe cringed, feeling his rising ire. Raising the ire of a thirteen-thousand-year-old Lasombra antitribu wasn’t a wise thing, not even for his Childer.

Especially not for his Childer.

“He was worried,” Phoebe began. “Full of mistrust towards us, which is understandable, but his concern was even stronger. I’d even say that he was desperate.”

“Also understandable when one is about to face down the Great Duke of Hell who rules forty legions,” Prue commented.

“Yes, but there’s more,” Phoebe said. “I perceived feelings of bitterness and betrayal from him, anger and disappointment and… and love. It seemed to be a fierce and unrequited love, but I can’t be sure. The signs are hard to interpret. I didn’t have much time to scan him.”

“Well, you’ll have another chance, soon,” Prue glanced at the wall clock. “Sunset is in twenty minutes”.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At the same time Dr. Elizabeth Sagara – Bettie for her old friends of whom, unfortunately, only two were still alive… well, undead, in Henry Fitzroy’s case – was having a teleconference with somebody half a continent away. The person on the other end of the connection was the other old friend still alive, and Coreen Fennel would have been surprised to learn that she was no-one else but Sister Grace Cole… or, as she had been known since her conversion to the Coptic order, Mother Verena.

To Coreen’s defence, not many people had ever met the scholarly nun in person. She might have been the lead demonologist of the Legacy, but she had spent the last twenty-plus years of her life in cloister. First in a small Benedictine convent in Los Angeles, then – after that convent had been wiped out by a vicious demon attack – she and the other surviving sister converted to the oldest religious order of Christianity: to the Coptic nuns.

Because the Coptic order still knew (and, if they had to, practiced) some ancient, sacred rites the rest of Christianity had long forgotten… or even forbidden. But the Coptic nuns, just like St. Anthony the Great, whose path they followed, were still taught to recognize evil - and to fight it and even destroy it, with the power of their faith and the blessing of their Church.

The only ones present in the Western world were Mother Verena, old Sister Maura and a handful of other nuns who had joined their cell. They lived in monastic seclusion in Los Angeles, serving the homeless in the shelter adjoining the Church of the Nine Choirs of Angels, but Mother Verena also continued helping the Legacy in the fight against evil.

She and Dr. Sagara had gone to university together, before she would take the veil, and remained in close contact ever since. Understandably enough, Dr. Sagara found it necessary to turn to her for advice in the current situation. And she told the nun more details than she would share with Nahir – which was also understandable. She knew she could trust Mother Verena with everything. She had no reason to trust Nahir.

Even though she knew who – what - the supposed professor was.

Especially because she knew what he was.

The more details were revealed, though, the grimmer the nun became.

“Are you certain that the poor woman is bearing the symbol of Astaroth?” She then asked.

Dr. Sagara nodded. “I haven’t seen them with my own eyes, but Henry drew them for me, and I checked them with the database. They are genuine… and they most certainly react to evil forces with burning and searing pain. Why?”

“According to Sebastien Michaelis, Astaroth is a demon of the First Hierarchy, who seduces by means of laziness, vanity, and rationalized philosophies. To others, he teaches mathematical sciences and handicrafts, can make men invisible and lead them to hidden treasures, and answers every question formulated to him regarding the past, present, and future and will give up easily any secrets that he knows. Astaroth enjoys talking at length about the creation of the world, the Fall, and the faults of the jinn, taking great care to point out how he is being punished unjustly,” there was a slight creaking sound as the nun closed the grimoire she’d been quoting from. “None of this matches the random, pointless destruction your demon has been causing.”

“He is not my demon,” Dr. Sagara said dryly. “But what are you trying to tell me? That we are not facing Astaroth at all?”

“I don’t think so, no,” the nun replied. “What I think is this: that stupid, greedy student managed to summon a lesser demon from the rows of Astaroth’s legions, due to a butchered ritual. A lesser demon, as stupid and greedy as he was, but of considerable powers. No resources have ever mentioned shape-shifting as an attribute of Astaroth, to begin with.”

“So, what does this mean for us?” Dr. Sagara asked. “My… associate is planning to use the amulet of Inanna against the demon… assuming that it’s the genuine item. Does he have a chance for it to work?”

“Certainly. Whatever works against Astaroth ought to work against his minions, too.”

“But that is the thing: do you really believe that some amulet from a long-ruined pagan temple would work against a creature of Hell? I cannot believe that you’d think a thirteen-hundred-year-old Sumerian goddess could break the power of Astaroth… or any of his minions. You are a nun; you won’t believe in antediluvian deities, would you?”

“Of course not. But Bettie, do you really think that God wouldn’t have spoken to mankind before Abraham and Moses? Whatever certain religions might believe, our Creator has always taught us the ways we should follow… only that the people before the Great Flood – and for quite some time afterwards, too – had a somewhat distorted interpretation of what they had been taught.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that in their naïve world-view they saw the Kadoshim Chayyoth, the great warrior angels of the Merkabah order, as deities, assigning to them attributes that helped them to understand the working of nature as far as they could. And they interpreted the fallen angels as demons. Since there are quite a number of both kinds, the people of old had enough subjects to work with.”

“So does in mean that Inanna, or Ishtar, or Astarte, was originally the distorted image of a powerful angel?” Dr. Sagara asked doubtfully.

The nun nodded. “On of those sent to teach the peoples of Mesopotamia, most likely; although I seriously doubt that she’d have had anything to do with sex or ear… or that she was actually a she. Angels are spiritual beings and it is unlikely that they’d have genders. Unless they take on a physical form to interact with our plane of existence.”

“Which was the beginning of the Fall, if I’m not mistaken,” Dr. Sagara commented.

The nun nodded again. “True. Fortunately, the physical form of a demon can be destroyed; and with the right tools, their spirit can be forced back to the place of their imprisonment that is mundanely known as Hell.”

“And the amulet of Inanna is such a tool?”

“It might be. Before the Greet Flood, the Kadoshim Chayyoth are said to have interacted with mankind directly; and to have brought their wards gifts. Gifts that provided protection and helped to fight evil,” the nun sighed. “I’d prefer to keep this issue firmly in Legacy hands, but the sad truth is that your… associate is the only one who can verify the genuineness of the artefact – and to wield it with any hope for success.”

“You just can’t beat first-hand experience,” Dr. Sagara said dryly. “Any suggestion how we should do this?”

“You’ll have to summon the demon,” the nun explained, “and you should have his chosen vessel present, or else you might end up with Astaroth joining the party by accident, too.”

“Henry won’t like it. He’s very protective of the woman.”

“Then you should make him understand that this is the only way to keep her safe. Because once you’ve dealt with the demon, you must lay the amulet on the marks of the woman – I’ll mail you the words of the incantations – and seal his way of return to this plane. Unless Henry wants to cut off her hands, there’s no other way.”

“That means, however, that I must be present too,” Dr. Sagara said. “I doubt that either our expert or Henry would be able to pronounce a Coptic incantation correctly.”

“Nor is it meant for any creature of the night to use,” the nun said warningly. “I wish I could be there and do it myself; it would be safer that way. But I’m bound by my vows, and there isn’t enough time to get a dispensation from Alexandria.”

“Never mind. We both knew the risks when we joined the Legacy, and you’ve had your fair share of close calls. It’s my turn now. Just… pray for us, will you?”

“Always,” promised the nun. “There’s one more thing, though. I understand that the demon is currently possessing a new host?”

“Father Cascioli, yes, due to an exorcism that’s gone wrong.”

“Well… as much as it pains me, there is a good chance that when dealing with a demon like that you might be forced to kill the person whose body he is possessing. I assume that either our expert or your friend will be capable of doing that, but I wanted you to know.”

Dr. Sagara felt her heart sink. That was something she hadn’t considered when she agreed to help banning the demon; and she knew Henry would be hard-pressed to kill Father Cascioli. The two had been close associates once.

“I see,” she said after a lengthy pause. “Thank you for the warning. I’ll tell the others.”

“Do that. And Bettie… call me when it’s over, one way or another. I trust your report more than anyone else’s, and we need to know.”

“Will do. Take care, Grace… I mean, Verena.”

“You, too. You’ll need it more in the next couple of days than me,” and with that the nun signed off.

Dr. Sagara sat behind her desk motionlessly for a total of six minutes, trying to collect her thoughts. Then she glanced at the clock: twenty minutes to sunset. She needed to call Henry, even if right now all she could do was leaving a message in the mailbox.

“Henry, this is Bettie. Call me as soon as you wake up. I’ve got news; and you aren’t gonna like them.”

~TBC~

Kindred Spirits, Part 1

wiseheart — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 16:22:39 GMT

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Part One

In the middle of organizing his upcoming move to Vancouver, Henry was surprised when the unexpected call came.

“Augustus? Is there a problem with the move?”

“No,” the man replied. “I’m calling you because you’ll be asked for a meeting with a certain Professor Rudolph Martin. I know such things are not easy for you, but I strongly suggest that you grant the man an audience.”

“Why?”

The circumspect phrasing suggested that the person in question was a vampire, too. Why would Augustus, of all people, want him to meet another vampire? He ought to know better.

“Let’s say that he’s a Kindred spirit,” Augustus replied carefully. “He was invited by the Royal Ontario Museum due to his expertise but wouldn’t want to enter the territory without your knowledge.”

The emphasis on that particular word told Henry everything he needed to know. Kindred were a different kind of vampires: gregarious types who lived either in a hierarchical, almost feudal society (the Camarilla) or in complete, albeit organized chaos (the Sabbat). The fact that this particular one wanted to meet him upon entering the city made Henry assume that he belonged to the Camarilla. Their rules demanded to report to the Prince of a city when they entered his or her domain.

Since Toronto didn’t have any significant Kindred presence – they avoided the territory of the True Undead, as they called Henry’s kind – it was logical that the professor, whoever he might be, turned to Augustus to negotiate his safe entry.

“What kind of expert is he?” Henry asked.

“Something about ancient languages and history,” Augustus clearly had no idea and didn’t really care; Kindred were not his responsibility. “They want to consult him about Mesopotamian artefacts or whatnot. He’ll be travelling with his Childer; young women if I’m not mistaken. He assured me that they aren’t fledglings anymore and won’t cause any problems.”

Henry was inclined to believe that. The Camarilla took what they called the Masquerade – meaning to exist among clueless mortals unnoticed – very seriously.

“Very well,” he said. “I’m willing to make an exception. When will they be arriving?”

“Next Monday,” the relief was audible in Augustus’ voice, making Henry wonder just how much clout the Kindred professor might have in the twilit world between the living and the undead. “May I give him your cell number? That way you can make out the details between yourselves.”

“Good idea. As for the move…”

“I’m working on it,” Augustus promised and hung up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Later that night, after having fed, Henry did some internet research on Professor Rudolph Martin, PhD. There were several people by that name, but the most promising candidate was a distinguished Englishman, currently teaching ancient history at the University of San Francisco. Before his current stint he’d apparently worked for a small private school named Bradhurst College, back in England.

At the moment the man was apparently living in San Francisco, with two personal assistants, one of whom had come with him from England. The young man – either his undead progeny or a ghoul – was a postgraduate student as well as the professor’s head boy and right hand where academic matters were concerned. The other “PA” must have been a blood doll, then, or something like that. Kindred had a complicated social structure that made little to no sense for outsiders, Henry found.

Henry eyed the only public picture he could find from the enigmatic Professor Martin with interest. The man had a pale, fine-boned, vaguely Middle Eastern face with cold, observant dark eyes and collar-length dark hair, held together by a black velvet ribbon on the nape of his neck. He looked almost too young to have taught at various colleges and universities for decades; but again, looks said nothing about the true age of a vampire. Henry himself had been permanently seventeen for the last four hundred and eighty years.

He wondered just how old Professor Martin truly was. Despite the relatively contemporary name there was something in those icy dark eyes that spoke of a very high age indeed, even on a photo – at least to another vampire. Kindred might have been a different subspecies of the undead (a much older one that Henry’s kind, in fact), but when it came to the bottom of things, they were vampires.

And, as kitschy supernatural novels liked to state, blood spoke to blood.

In any case, it would be an interesting distraction to socialize with the Kindred visitors, Henry decided. Now that he had to distance himself from Vicky – and didn’t that hurt like a bitch? – and everyone in her closer circle, loneliness was beginning to weigh down his soul heavily. The territorial nature of his kind reacted less strongly to Kindred than to the ones like himself, so spending some time with an old and educated vampire might even prove pleasant. Not to mention educational.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Four days later, less than an hour after sunset, Henry’s phone rang. The number displayed on the small screen was unknown, but he had little doubt about the caller’s identity.

“Henry Fitzroy,” he answered the call.

“Professor Rudolph Martin,” a smooth, educated male voice with a hint of British poshness answered. “I understand that a common… acquaintance of us has already announced our arrival?”

“Indeed,” Henry was mildly surprised to hear his own accent of old emerge; that hadn’t happened for a very long time. “How can I be of assistance, Professor?”

“I believe it could be the other way round,” the professor replied slowly. “This is, however, not something I’d discuss on the phone. Are there neutral territories in Toronto where we might meet?”

“Not the way you have them,” Henry knew, of course, that Kindred had their public havens – usually bars of some sort owned by a prominent vampire – where even the members hostile Clans could meet without bloodshed. “But I believe the Naked Lady would serve in that function.”

The Naked Lady was a somewhat old-fashioned, only slightly trashy bar, named after a nineteenth-century oil painting that hung in the main room and depicted, well, a naked lady. Or a mostly naked lady, since artfully arranged wigs, hair applications and jewellery didn’t really count as clothing. The bar was favoured by conservative artists and middle-class businessmen, mostly, and had discreet separees, thus being and excellent choice for confidential private meetings.

Henry gave the professor the address of the place; then he called the manager of the bar and booked a separee for himself and his guests. Until the meeting he still had two hours left; enough to find dinner. He wanted to be at his best when meeting any foreign vampires; more so if he had to face more than one of them.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Master Nahir, known in the mortal world as Professor Rudolph Martin, looked around in The Naked Lady with a grimace of mild disdain. The place had a lot of false pomp and very little style; but again it hadn’t been arranged with his taste in mind. The older of her Childer accompanying him, Prue Halliwell, clearly shared his opinion, but that wasn’t really a surprise. Prue used to work for an auction house and learned to separate true antiquities from trash.

Fortunately, she was also a disciplined and well-mannered individual who knew when to keep her opinion to herself. Unlike her younger sister, Phoebe (currently also present). But Nahir could bring Phoebe to silence with a simple mental order if he had to. As much as he detested the Blood Bond – he called it that Ventrue obscenity – in Phoebe’s case it was necessary; and it worked like a charm.

Literally.

All three of them were elegantly, though a tad conservatively clad: Nahir in black slacks and a black silk button-down shirt under his jacket, the two women in the quintessential little black dress, with Phoebe showing considerably more décolleté than Prue. In that attire they fit the usual clientele of The Naked Lady quite nicely.

“We are here to meet a gentleman named Henry Fitzroy,” Nahir told the manager, who inclined his head politely.

“Of course, sir. Mr. Fitzroy is waiting for you in the red separee. If you’d follow me…”

He led them to one of the side rooms furnished with a red velvet settee and matching overstuffed chairs surrounding a delicate little table. The man waiting for them seemed to be in his early twenties; of middle height and slender build but with wide shoulders and shoulder-length, wavy brown hair. He had a pale, handsome face and clear, blue eyes.

Seeing their approach he rose.

“Professor Martin, I presume?” he asked, extending a fine-boned hand with heavy, jewelled (and obviously fairly old) rings flashing on some of his fingers. “I’m Henry Fitzroy.”

Nahir shook the proffered hand and introduced his Childer. They took seats around the table and their host ordered the house red.

“I’ afraid it is indeed merely red wine,” he added apologetically. “As Toronto has no significant Kindred presence, we don’t have the right establishments to cater to their needs, either.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Nahir replied for all three of them. “We’ve already had dinner. Wine will suffice.”

The house red proved excellent, though, so as soon as the waitress left they could come to the actual point of the meeting.

“You have mentioned something about being able to provide assistance,” Fitzroy cut straight to the core. “I would like to learn more about the… nature of the assistance you are offering.”

Nahir nodded. While Fitzroy wasn’t the Prince of Toronto in the Kindred sense of the word, in the terms of the True Undead he was the equivalent authority and as such entitled to demand an explanation.

“I’ve been asked by the Royal Ontario Museum to verify the authenticity of an ancient Sumerian artefact,” he began. “If it is indeed the true item, and based on the photos sent to me it might be, it should be a powerful amulet from the Eanna Temple that was the cult centre of the Sumerian city Uruk, from the thirteenth to the fifth millennium before Christ.”

“Which is interesting from the archaeological point of view, but I fail to see what significance it might have for me,” Fitzroy said.

“I’m coming to that,” Nahir replied, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Really, the young ones were so impatient! “The patron goddess of the Eanna Temple was Inanna: a goddess associated with sex, war, justice and political power, known as the Queen of Heavens. She got later adopted by the Akkadian empire and merged with Ishtar; and even later, around two thousand before Christ, by the Phoenicians as Astarte. Under the latter name she is mentioned in the Hebrew Bible as Astoreth, in singular, and as Astaroth, in plural, in reference to multiple statues of her. The latter form was then directly translated into the early Greek and Latin versions of the Bible, where it was less apparent that it had been a plural feminine in Hebrew.”

“Again, this is all very interesting culturally, but I don’t see how it would mean anything for me,” Fitzroy said.

Nahir raised an ironic eyebrow. “Really, Your Grace, I thought you’d be a bit faster to catch on. Or was I misinformed about the fact that the demon Astaroth had recently been released in this city?”

For that conversationally delivered statement he was rewarded by the brief emerging of the true face of the undead prince – because who could bear that title more rightfully than he who once had been the Duke of Richmond and Somerset? Certainly no-one of the self-styled Kindred ruling over the vampire population of any given city.

Oh yes, Nahir knew all too well about the true identity of their host; which put him at a serious advantage.

“How could you possibly know about that?” Fitzroy asked, his voice dropping at least an octave and his eyes turning to an impenetrable black.

Sadly for him, the only one impressed by the show seemed to be Phoebe; and probably not the way he had hoped for, if her fanning herself was any indication.

“It is my job to know such things,” Nahir replied calmly. In his roughly thirteen thousand years of existence he had faced more frightening things than a merely five-hundred-year-old True Undead.

The Great Flood that destroyed his home of old being the main item of those.

“I am the guardian of the Hellgate in San Francisco,” he continued in a low, almost subvocal voice, suitable for vampire ears only. “It is a place where the wall between realities is dangerously thin. There are other such places, with their own guardians, and we keep a close eye on, let’s say, supernatural occurrences. We’ve got a planet-wide network to dispatch the closest guardian to places where interference might be needed.”

“And you were the closest one to Toronto?” Fitzroy asked doubtfully, back to human disguise already.

“Of course not, although our network is a bit thinly stretched in the North; has been since the New York Legacy House fell to the Sabbat,” Nahir said. “But since I was to come here anyway, the others assigned the task to me. Besides, I am the only one who can at least hope to take it up with Astaroth.”

“And why is that?” Fitzroy didn’t seem the least persuaded.

“Because he can only be safely sent back to the underworld with the help of Inanna’s amulet,” Nahir replied simply. “She is the Queen of Heaven, the bright counterpart to Astaroth’s darkness. She was there first and has the power to ban the thief who has misused her name and the inherent power of it for centuries.”

“If one knows how to use the amulet to bind his power,” Prue added dryly. “Assuming that the amulet is the right item to begin with.”

“And if it is,” Fitzroy eyed Nahir in suspicion, “would you know how to use it?”

“I ought to,” Nahir replied with a shrug. “I held it in my hand before, many times… back in my mortal days. It is said to recognize the adepts who touched it before.”

“That item has been in the Royal Ontario Museum for at least half a century,” Fitzroy’s suspicion seemed to increase. “I know it because I happen to be one of the patrons of the museum… one of the long-time patrons. And before that it lay under the ruins of some Sumerian city for millennia. When did you get the chance to touch it?”

“I was a guardian of the Eanna Temple ere it would be destroyed by the Great Flood,” Nahir said. “I belonged to the lowest-cast priests whose duty was to guard the wall and clean the sacred items. When the Great Flood came, I was standing guard at the highest walls of the city; but even so, I would have died, had my Sire not found and Embraced me.”

Fitzroy frowned, still not quite willing to buy it. “That means, you are… how old exactly?”

Nahir shrugged again. “I’m not quite sure; I stopped counting at thirteen thousand. Of course, I spent a great deal of it in torpor. But still, I am the closest thing to an Antediluvian walking the Earth in these days. I might not have been turned before the Great Flood, but I definitely lived before it.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Fitzroy said slowly. “For starters, you don’t look much like somebody from the Middle East.”

“Just wait a few millennia and you’ll see what the lack of sunlight will do to your colouring,” Nahir returned. “Besides, how do you know what my people looked like thirteen thousand years ago?”

“None of this is really important right now,” Phoebe said impatiently. “We’re here to deal with a demon, so let’s not waste any more time!”

Nahir gave her a warning glare. “Mind your manners, Childe. It isn’t for you to decide when and how we will act; and this is not the way one is supposed to behave in the presence of royalty.”

“Royalty?” Phoebe echoed, clearly not having a clue.

Nahir sighed. “Prue, I thought you have briefed your sister about the details of this mission.”

“I have,” Prue assured him. “Obviously, she paid no attention, as usual.”

Nahir suppressed his anger. It wouldn’t do to deal with family problems in front of a stranger.

“All right. We shall discuss it when we are alone. Right now, we have more important things to deal with,” he turned back to their host. “Mr. Fitzroy, if the amulet is authentic, we’ll have to remove it from the museum. It would be dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands.”

“Removing it might prove problematic,” Fitzroy replied. “It might not be an item of any exposition, but it is still one of their most prized artefacts. They won’t allow us to simply walk away with it.”

“Which is why we shall need a very good copy of it,” Nahir said. “A copy I can switch with the original right after having verified its authenticity. Do you happen to know an artist of considerable skill who can make one?”

For the first time, Fitzroy seemed genuinely amused. “I might. But what are you planning to do once you have the amulet? How is it supposed to help finding Astaroth?”

“We won’t need to find him,” Nahir answered. “He’ll come to us. Once the powers of the amulet are freed, he’ll feel it and be drawn to it.”

“I thought the amulet was a threat to him,” Fitzroy said.

Nahir nodded. “Yes. Which is why he would try to destroy it.”

“That could lead to collateral damage in grand style. Where are you staying while in Toronto?”

Nahir named the hotel where they had booked rooms, but Fitzroy shook his head.

“That would put all hotel guests in mortal danger. I can provide you accommodations in my personal haven. Half the floor where I live belongs to me; in most rooms I store my paintings and items I’ve collected since I came into the city. We can turn a few of them into guest rooms for the duration of your stay.”

Nahir gave the invitation some thought. What Fitzroy suggested made sense; the more they lessened the risk for the Kine, the better.

“Very well,” he said. “We accept. Two bedrooms will suffice; and a room where we can continue our online research.”

“That is doable,” Fitzroy handed him a card with his address. “I’ll see it done within three hours. Do you have a car on your?”

“I’ve leased one,” Nahir replied. “We shall arrive one hour before sunrise.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

After the meeting Henry drove directly home to prepare the rooms for his guests. While he still didn’t quite believe that Professor Martin would truly be thirteen thousand years old, not to mention a Sumerian priest who supposedly survived the Great Flood, he couldn’t deny that the man seemed to be of extreme age. Even for Kindred, whose origins reached much further back than those of his own kind.

There was a dark aura of power radiating from the man; and, in a much lesser extent, from his Childer, too. From Prue more than from Phoebe, though, and Prue also seemed to be an intelligent, educated woman. Whether that power was entirely benevolent he couldn’t be certain, though. Even some of the Camarilla clans dabbled in magic; the Tremere, for starters. And magic was always a two-edged sword to wield.

Still, this was the first time Henry had any closer contact with Kindred, and despite his concerns, he found the experience… interesting. He only hoped that the confidence of Professor Martin – that he’d be able to deal with Astraroth for good – was well-founded. Otherwise he had exposed himself in vain.

There was another aspect of the problem; one he had not shared with the Kindred yet (and neither would do so if he could avoid it): while the amulet – supposing it was the true item – might draw Astaroth in, it likely wasn’t the strongest source of attraction for the demon. That was still the very person through whom he had created a doorway for himself into the physical world: Vicky Nelson. As long as Vicki bore the marks, Astaroth could always find a way back.

Especially since she had been foolish enough to poison her life source with vampire blood.

That was a betrayal Henry knew he’d probably never forgive, despite his feelings for her.

Still; while Vicki might have made a grave mistake dabbling in dark magic, she had not acted selfishly. Her motivation had been right; her methods, while unwise, at least proved successful. It didn’t mean that the goal justified the method, no matter what, but she was in great danger. A danger she had not asked for.

The fact that Astaroth had not started wrecking chaos of apocalyptical proportions so far could only mean that he didn’t have his full power in the physical world yet. Which meant that he’d need to draw it through the doorway he created. So he would start searching for Vicki, sooner rather than later. She had to be warned; and protected, whether she wanted it or not.

After everything that had happened lately, though, Henry didn’t know how to approach her; or that he should approach her to begin with. But he had to do something to protect her, and there was only one person he could turn to for help, hoping that she would keep quiet about it… if for no other reason then out of well-deserved guilt.

~TBC~

Kindred Spirits 00 - Introduction

wiseheart — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 16:21:34 GMT

Kindred Spirits
by Soledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" stand-alone story.
A Charmed/Blood Ties/Kindred: The Embraced crossover

Disclaimer: I don’t own Blood Ties, Vampire: the Masquerade, the Kindred universe or the Charmed Ones. They all belong to their respective creators. I just borrowed them to have some harmless fun.

Rating: Teens and above, for some canon-compliant violence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Introduction

Before we’d launch into the actual story, I’d like to give you some serious warnings. This is a crossover between “Blood Ties”, “Charmed” and my own vampire AU, “Pathways in the Dark”, and as far as “Charmed” is concerned, canon has left the building, like the day before yesterday.

I used to like the series at the beginning, but became increasingly unhappy with it and stopped watching it entirely after Prue died. So I chose an AU setting where Prue is not dead, and where Phoebe is the person I always felt her to be:self-centered, scatter-brained and irresponsible. I know I’m probably very unfair with her, but, well, this is an AU… and a rather widely off-track one.

“Pathways” originally began as a vampire crossover between Angel, Buffy, Kindred: The Embraced and Poltergeist: The Legacy. Most recently, the US-version of Queer As Folk, Criminal Minds, Charmed and now Blood Ties, too, have joined the mix. The vampires of this universe are all the Kindred sort, tending more towards the excellent, short-lived TV-series than the RPG Vampire: The Masquerade, upon which the series had originally been based.

Nahir is a genuine VtM character – a minor one, who is listed around the very end of VtM’s Lasombra character list, as a vampire of unknown origins and generation. This makes him easy prey – I’ve made him a millennia-old Noddist scholar, an antitribu, and the only surviving Elder of the Order of Aurelius; someone who saw the destruction of Ancient Carthage with his very eyes. In VtM canon, this event was orchestrated by the Ventrue and the Toreador, while in Carthage, Brujah and mortals supposedly lived together peacefully.

The story takes place right after the series finale of “Blood Ties”, when Henry is making attempts to move to Vancouver and Astaroth is still at large, occupying the body of Father Cascioli.

There is a much longer ongoing project titled "Charmed into Darkness", which describes how the Halliwell sisters became vampires in the first place. Unfortunately, that story still exists in disjointed parts, which I'm trying to knit together into an actual narrative, so I cannot tell when it will be posted.

Xmas gift fic 2021 - for elmey

wiseheart — Fri, 17 Dec 2021 18:51:25 GMT

VANITY
by Soledad

Fandom: Sherlock BBC/Miss Marple x-over
Characters: Miss Marple, Dr. John Watson, Mary Morstan, Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Harry Watson, D.I. Lestrade, Dr. Haddock, Mrs. Clement, David Clement
Recipient: elmey
Note: This is a tie-in vignette to my unfinished story “Precious Like Rubies”. You might want to read the story first, for all of this to make sense.
Summary: Miss Marple explains it all.

Beta read by the generous thesmallhobbit, whom I owe my gratitude.

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It was an illustrious gathering that took place in Miss Marple's drawing room on the following Tuesday... presumably for tea. In truth, everyone wanted to hear — and from the source — how she had unravelled the mystery surrounding poor Rita-Anne Smith's death, who, apparently, had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The guests included Doctor Watson and Miss Morstan, of course, seeing that they were heavily involved in the actual case behind the crime. Then there was young Mr. Jones who had served Miss Marple as a valuable source of information, being not only a librarian but also quite internet-savvy. Captain Harkness hadn’t been directly involved, but he was immensely curious; and besides, he had helped to renovate Doctor Watson’s cottage in his spare time, and the good doctor thought the least he could do in exchange was to share the mystery with the irrepressible pilot.

Even less involved yet equally curious were Miss Harriet, Doctor Watson’s sister (who, for some odd reason, insisted on being called “Harry”), and that very friendly detective inspector from London, with the short-cropped silver hair and the French-sounding name. Lestrange… no, Lestrade he was called. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade. He and Miss Watson came down from London, specifically to attend Miss Marple’s revelation; a fact that made Miss Marple both pleased and embarrassed at the same time.

The rest of the gathering was made up of Doctor Haddock, Mrs Clement, the vicar’s wife, (the dear Griselda, she had been such a good friend for such a long time!) and Griselda’s son David, who had been part of the events from the very beginning.

Young Mr. Jones offered to serve tea (after all, he ran the small café adjoining the library in Market Basing, so he had a great deal of practice in such things), and soon everyone was sitting comfortably with their tea cups and assorted biscuits, eager to hear the story.

Unsurprisingly, it was the detective inspector from London who asked the first question. The others might have been curious, but this was still his case, due to its connection to a much bigger one that took place in the area under his jurisdiction.

“Well, Miss Marple,” he said, “would you tell us what brilliant deduction,” by emphasizing that word, he ignored the pain flashing across Doctor Watson’s face, “has led you to the conclusion that it was, in fact, Mr. Sheldon who killed Mrs. Smith and not the man with the artificial leg that was shadowing Old Hall all the time?”

Miss Marple considered the phrasing of her answer for a moment. Sometimes she pitied the police – these good, well-meaning, hard-working people who did their best to solve crimes and yet so often overlooked that which was practically lying right under their nose. She didn’t want to appear vain, but she couldn’t help being just a little bit pleased with herself. She might not be as clever, scientificly-minded and worldly as the late Mr. Holmes had been, but just by applying a little common sense, she had baffled both the local police and clever young men like Captain Harkness or young Mr. Jones.

Although she had the feeling that the latter might have come to the right solution on his own, eventually. It was all in the little details, and Ianto Jones was nothing if not observant.

“Really, Detective Inspector,” she said apologetically, “I should have thought the whole thing was obvious from the beginning.”

She noticed with interest another flash of pain across Doctor Watson’s face when she said obvious; the detective inspector, on the other hand, pulled a face as if he’d tasted something unpleasant.

“Not so obvious for me, I’m afraid,” he said. “Care to enlighten me?”

“Oh, but you’re not as familiar with the life in a small village as I am,” Miss Marple replied hurriedly. “You see, people here – especially older people – are very settled in their ways. We all have our little quirks and idiosyncrasies and tend to do things as we always have done.”

“But the people in the Old Hall are newcomers,” young Mr. Jones pointed out.

Miss Marple nodded. True; with the exception of Mrs Carmichael, who has her firmly established daily ritual. Mr. Sheldon might have been new to the Old Hall, but he was highly paranoid – and hypochondriac, so he had a strict daily routine as well. Young Mr. Hopper is away most of the day; so who could have known when it would be safe to search the flats?”

“Anyone who had watched the house long enough,” Doctor Watson offered.

Miss Marple shook her head. “No; for they could not have known what was going on inside the house. Few outsiders could. Miss Morstan is one such person, since she spends a lot of time there as Mrs Carmichael’s caregiver, but she had barely begun when poor Rita-Anne was murdered; and besides, she didn’t have a motive.”

“And Mr. Sheldon did?” Doctor Haddock asked doubtfully.

Miss Marple nodded empathically. “Oh yes, he did; although perhaps not one most people would suspect.”

“But you did, didn’t you?” Mrs Clement smiled at her.

“Of course,” Miss Marple replied with dignity. “I always expect the worst from people; and sadly, I’m usually right.”

Those who didn’t know her as well as the locals digested that for a moment.

So, what, in your expert opinion, was Mr. Sheldon’s motivation to murder Mrs. Smith?” The detective inspector asked.

“Fear,” Miss Marple replied simply.

“Fear?” The detective inspector echoed.

Miss Marple nodded. “Yes, of course. You see, the fact that the flats were all searched made people think that someone wanted to find something that had been hidden in one of them previously.”

“And it wasn’t?” Miss Watson asked.

“Oh no,” Miss Marple said. “I’m quite certain that it was Mr. Sheldon who went into the other flats – to hide something there, in the rooms of his neighbours.”

“But what might he have wanted to hide and why?” Mrs. Clement wondered.

Miss Marple coughed discreetly. “Well, I can’t be sure, of course, but I believe he might have spirited away more than his fair share of the treasure, without the knowledge of his late brother.”

“But… but that’s impossible!” Miss Morstan protested. “They didn’t even find the major part of the treasure… and it was Mr. Sheldon who insisted on giving me my share, against his brother’s wishes. Not that I’d even accept it,” she added hurriedly.

Miss Marple gave her a look that was full of pity and gentle accusation.

“And you believed him? My dear, you should never believe what a man with a shifty eye tells you. You see, Mr. Sheldon wasn’t a true hypochondriac; he was a compulsive liar… and a very skilled actor. The role he played served to make him look a harmless fool so that people wouldn’t see him as a threat.”

“He built up that hypochondriac personality surprisingly well,” Doctor Watson commented. “There were fleeting moments where he slipped, but not very often.”

“He certainly fooled me,” Doctor Haydock muttered, thinking back at the numerous (and, it seemed, unnecessary) house calls he had to make because of Mr. Sheldon.

“He fooled us all,” Miss Marple admitted. “I’d never have suspected him if not for the twitching of his nose.”

“That statement earned her identical blank looks from everyone present, and she became a bit flustered.

“I mean, he reminded me of Old Noakes, the gardener of Bantry Hall,” she explained. “A good, skilled gardener, but had his own ideas about what a garden ought to look like, and was not quite willing to do things as Mrs Bantry wanted. Whenever she gave him instructions regarding the garden, she’d say ‘yes, ma’am’, or ‘o’course, ma’am’, and then he’d do things according to his own ideas. And whenever he said ‘yes’ or ‘o’course’, the tip of his nose would twitch in a very peculiar manner – just like Mr. Sheldon’s.”

“You mean you’ve based your entire theory on a man’s twitching nose?” The detective inspector was clearly baffled.

“No, Detective Inspector,” Miss Marple replied gently. “On my long experience with lying people.”

She let that settle for a moment before continuing.

“There were other aspects to it, of course. His seemingly amiable relationship with Mrs Carmichael, for one.”

“You mean that was just a show?” Miss Morstan asked in surprise. “But Mrs. Carmichael did truly admire him and was worried about him all the time.”

“I don’t doubt that, my dear, but I’m quite sure that it was one-sided. A clever criminal like Mr. Sheldon would regard everyone beneath his own level of cleverness with disdain. And let’s face it; Mrs. Carmichael is a very stupid woman. Besides, a true hypochondriac would find her most annoying – not the right audience for their complaints. So there had to be another reason why he would fake interest in her.”

“Do you mean the glaringly obvious ‘secret drawer’ of her bureau?” Miss Morstan laughed. “A blind man would spot that from the other side of the road!”

Miss Marple nodded. “Quite right. Which is why the real treasure must have been hidden somewhere else in Mrs Carmichael’s flat… for a while, at least.”

“Why in hers, particularly?” Young Mr. Jones inquired. “Aside from the fact that he’d have easy access to it, should the need arise, I mean. After all, the old lady trusted him.”

“Because she never leaves the house, save to feed the birds,” Miss Marple replied. “Don’t forget that his old partner-in-crime was shadowing him, so he couldn’t hide the treasure in his own flat. The other inhabitants go off to work, leaving their rooms unwatched and vulnerable to burglars.”

“And those apartments were searched, too,” Doctor Watson said. “Repeatedly, if one can trust the local police.”

“Oh, you certainly can,” Miss Marple assured him. “Yes, the intrusions have been reported to the police, and Frank Cornish, who’s a good, thorough policeman, did his best to solve the cases. I believe, however, that it was Mr. Sheldon himself who did it – to steer the attention of the police towards the mysterious, one-legged man.”

“Hoping to get rid of him with the help of the police,” the detective inspector suggested.

Miss Marple nodded. “Exactly. And he was probably spotted by poor Rita-Anne when coming out of one of those apartments.”

“So he pushed that poor woman down the stairs, just because of that?” Doctor Haddock shook his head angrily. “What a cruel, unnecessary thing to do!”

“I wouldn’t call it unnecessary,” Miss Marple corrected. “He needed to keep up the mysterious threat by the one-legged man who would search for something in every corner of the house. His entire plan was based on that.”

“But why did he contact Mary – I mean Miss Morstan – and speak to her about the treasure at all?” Doctor Watson asked.

“Because he wanted to cement the idea that it was him who wanted to share with Miss Morstan and his brother who opposed it,” Miss Marple explained. “It was his plan all along to get rid of his brother and keep the entire treasure to himself; the one-legged man, while participating in the original theft, was meant to serve as the scapegoat.”

“So that he’d be sentenced for the murder, while the treasure would never be found, remaining safely in Mr. Sheldon’s possessions,” the detective inspector concluded. “A clever and very ruthless plan.”

“And he might even have succeeded, if not for poor Rita-Anne,” Miss Marple added. “That was the only part of the entire game that had not been pre-meditated. I imagine Mr. Sheldon didn’t count on her being in the house at all – she usually wasn’t at that time – and when they unexpectedly met, he simply panicked. It happens. It was a sad coincidence. At least she didn’t have to suffer, did she?”

She looked at Doctor Watson questioningly, who shook his head. “She was immediately dead. A broken neck.”

“And did he murder his own brother as well?” Captain Harkness asked with a frown. “I thought it was suicide – how did he manage that?”

“I am not entirely certain, but my guess would be some kind of hallucinogen drugs,” Miss Marple looked at Doctor Watson again. “Have you found out anything about that, Doctor?”

The doctor nodded. “I’ve talked to McMurdo about that. Apparently, the older Mr. Sheldon had the most frightening visions during the last months of his life. Visions that are often caused by high doses of LSD or synthetic drugs with similar effects. Visions frightening enough that in the end he went completely mad and committed suicide.”

“A very cruel and sly method to kill someone,” Miss Morstan said quietly.

“It is,” the doctor agreed. “I just don’t understand how the drug, whatever it was, was fed to him – unless in his food.”

“But he only ever ate what his housekeeper, that Mrs. Bernstone, cooked him!” Miss Morstan said. “And she was completely devoted to him.”

The detective inspector cleared his throat. “I think I can add a piece to the puzzle here. Mrs. Bernstone was, in fact, the wife of the younger Mr. Sheldon. They’d married in London, roughly two years ago. I’ve got a copy of their marriage certificate from Somerset House.”

“He was married to that feeble old hag?” Miss Morstan clearly found that hard to believe.

“That feeble old hag is, in fact, not even forty yet,” the detective inspector corrected dryly. “What we saw was just a role she played most excellently – with the help of the right costume and a great deal of professional make-up. The real name of the woman is Eleanor Capshaw – well, Mrs. Eleanor Sheldon now –, and she used to be a moderately successful actress. ‘Mrs. Bernstone’, I’m quite sure, was her starring role, the peak of her acting career.”

“Oh, of course!” Miss Marple murmured in excitement. “The simplest solution of the world: marriage. They meet; she marries him for his wealth; they work out a plan to get rid of the brother, to get their hands of the entire treasure. Yes, it would have worked like a charm, had Rita-Anne Smith gone to work on that fateful day as it had been her wont on Tuesday mornings.”

“So, does this mean that the whole treasure is still somewhere in Mrs. Carmichael’s flat?” Mrs. Clement asked.

Miss Marple shook her head. “No, dear. I believe Mr. Sheldon has already retrieved it. In fact, that must have been the moment he ran into Rita-Anne Smith. Having been seen coming out from Mrs. Carmichael’s is one thing. Having been seen coming out of there carrying a large chest or bag or something is quite different.”

“So, where on Earth is it now?” Mrs. Clement insisted.

“Somewhere hidden in plain sight, would be my guess,” Miss Marple replied. “Somewhere among all those fake oriental knick-knacks in Mr. Sheldon’s flat.”

“I pity the poor sod who has to look for it,” Doctor Watson commented sourly. “The place is full of tasteless, worthless tat.”

“Which is why it is excellent for hiding things of great value,” Miss Marple pointed out.

The detective inspector rose. “I’ll better call for a search troop, then,” he said. “This promises to be interesting.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It took the search troop from New Scotland Yard four days to turn Mr. Sheldon’s flat upside down and inside out and sift through all the rubbish stored there. But in the end they did find the treasure – or what was left of it. Still enough to make several people obscenely rich, but as it was acquired illegally, in the end it was simply confiscated by the state.

Mr. Sheldon and his wife got their trial and were given a life sentence, each, for murder, grand theft and a few other things. Mr. Bart Sheldon might have taken his own life, but he was driven to suicide by the drugs fed to him by his sister-in-law whom he had thought to be a devoted housekeeper, and murder by any means is still murder.

Miss Morstan quit her job with Mrs. Carmichael and decided to train as a receptionist for doctors’ surgeries, with long-term plans to move to London. For the time being Doctor Haddock offered her a part-time job at his practice, whenever she wasn’t working in the hospital of Much Benham – a job that she gladly accepted. Miss Marple suspected that it had something to do with Doctor Watson and hoped from the bottom of her heart that it would work. Doctor Watson deserved to have somebody in his life; somebody who truly cared for him – and didn’t the Bible say that a good wife was rare and precious like rubies?

That nice Detective Inspector Lestrade even called on her to tell her about the treasure being found – not that she hadn’t already known. In St. Mary Mead there were no secrets. Not even small ones, let alone such huge discoveries.

“So you’ve been right all along,” the detective inspector said, stirring his tea thoughtfully; he clearly wasn’t a tea lover but polite enough to accept it when offered. “It must be a good feeling, having figured it out all on your own.”

“I had help,” Miss Marple reminded him. “Miss Morstan, Doctor Watson, young Mr. Jones – they were all valuable sources of details I couldn’t have gathered alone.”

“But it was you who made the necessary connections,” the detective inspector insisted. “You should be proud of what you’ve achieved.”

“That would be vanity, and vanity was heavily frowned upon in my youth,” Miss Marple replied modestly. “If I’d want to describe my feelings concerning this case, I’d compare them to those of a scientist; one of those specialists who’ve successfully reconstructed an extinct animal from a fragment of jawbone and a couple of teeth.” (*)

~The End~

(*) Taken from the last sentence of “A Pocketful of Rye”, with small alterations.

Xmas gift fic 2021 - for smallhobbit

wiseheart — Thu, 16 Dec 2021 19:05:17 GMT

The Mystery of the Cutlery Box
by Soledad

Fandom: Miss Marple
Characters: Miss Marple, Inspector Slack, OFC
Recipient: thesmallhobbit
Summary: Inspector Slack thinks it’s a simple case. But he doesn’t know St. Mary Mead as well as Miss Marple.

Beta read by the most generous curiouswombat whom I owe my gratitude.

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The cutlery box had clearly seen better days. Made of dark walnut wood, it was a big, oblong box, even more darkened with age and the many layers of dust that had settled on its surface, with only a bit of decorative carving around the rim of the lid. Said lid even had a small hole in its centre, as if someone had hit it with a hammer or rammed a large knife through it, for reasons unknown, and the two brass handles on the shorter sides were blackened due to age and the lack of loving care.

In the inside the box was lined with beige velvet (that appeared more grey than beige due to decades-long neglect) and filled with spoons, forks and knives in various shapes and sizes, all fitted neatly in their little slots. Only the slot of the large kitchen ladle was empty. The cutlery was as blackened due to neglect as the handles were, but every piece sat firmly and securely in its place.

Not even the impact of the box with the unfortunate Mr. Berrywhite’s head loosened them one bit. Even though the impact had been hard enough to break Mr. Berrywhite’s skull and kill him on the spot – a fact proved by the shape of the injury and the man’s blood on the edge of the box.

The case seemed simple enough. Someone broke into Mr. Berrywhite’s house and tried to snatch the cutlery box in the (mistaken) belief that there was something of true value in it. Mr. Berrywhite caught the burglar red-handed, and the man (because it would have been hard to imagine a woman handling the heavy box), desperate to get away, threw the box at Mr. Berrywhite’s head, killing the man in the process.

“It appears to be manslaughter rather than pre-meditated murder,” said Inspector Slack, giving the scene of the crime an unhappy look. “It makes no difference for the victim, of course; but bad luck for us. It’s always harder to find a murderer that didn’t have any previous connection to the victim.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so certain about that, Inspector,” an unexpected voice said, and the thin, erect shape of Miss Marple appeared in the doorframe as if out of thin air. As always, she was neatly, though old-fashionately clad in a grey shirt suit with matching hat and was even wearing gloves.

Inspector Slack rolled his eyes. He should have known that the old lady would show up, sooner rather than later. This was St. Mary Mead, after all, her very own hunting ground.

“What are you doing here, ma’am?” He asked; not as politely as he probably should have but politely enough, in his own opinion.

“Gladys Miller called me and asked to come over, of course,” Miss Marple replied as if that had been the most natural thing in the world. Although in St. Mary Mead it perhaps was. Miss Marple counted as the greatest expert in the village when it came to violent crimes – not that anyone who didn’t know her would believe it.

“She is completely out of her wits, the poor thing,” she continued. “You know, Inspector, she isn’t very clever, and unexpected things always confuse her very much.”

Slack knew who Gladys Miller was, of course: Mr. Berrywhite’s housekeeper, a somewhat scatter-brained woman in her mid-thirties, who didn’t actually live in the house but came over for a few hours every day to take care of the elderly gentleman. The inspector wondered, though, how it came that Miss Marple not only knew Gladys Miller (she knew practically everyone in the village, after all). But the woman obviously trusted her enough to call her when facing an unexpected and frightening situation.

He said so, and Miss Marple smiled.

“Oh, but I’ve known Gladys since she was sixteen. She came to me from the orphanage, St. Faith’s. A very well-run place though sadly short of funds. We do our best for the girls there, try to give them a good training in household tasks: how to wait at a table, how to clean the silver and all that. Gladys stayed with me for over three years; until she married Eddie Miller, the fishmonger’s assistant.”

“That must have been quite a few years ago,” the inspector said.

It wasn’t the most sensitive comment (Inspector Slack wasn’t a sensitive man to begin with), but Miss Marple didn’t seem to take offence.

“Oh yes, nearly twenty years ago,” she admitted, “but Gladys has stayed in touch all the time. She’s the kind of person who always feels overwhelmed by the slightest problem and needs somebody to guide her through it.”

That has to be deadly boring, Slack thought. The short preliminary interview he’d had with Gladys Miller had already brought him to the brink of his (admittedly low) patience threshold. Out loud, however, he only said, “Well, perhaps your presence will be helpful. Mrs. Miller isn’t the easiest witness.”

“She’s prone to panicking, that’s true,” Miss Marple allowed. “But she’s also surprisingly observant… if one asks her the right questions.”

“I bow to your expertise in this area,” said the inspector dryly and instructed Constable Palk to bring in the witness.

Who, as it turned out quickly enough, wasn’t a witness at all. Mrs. Miller (still somewhat dishevelled by a curious mix of excitement and devastation) had arrived at Mr. Berrywhite’s cottage around 7am, as every day. She had her own key, as to not disturb Mr. Berrywhite, although at this time the old gentleman had usually been up and done with his early morning walk. She went to the kitchen and started breakfast – Mr. Berrywhite always insisted on a full English breakfast, even though Doctor Haydock had repeatedly told him to cut back on the bacon and other fatty foodstuffs – when she hear some noise from the dining room and went to see what it might have been.

“What kind of noise?” interrupted the inspector.

The question apparently confused Mrs. Miller so much that she promptly lost the thread of her thoughts.

“I… I don’t know, sir. It was a most peculiar noise. I never heard anything like that in this house in the seven years I’ve worked here.”

“But you did hear it somewhere else, didn’t you?” Miss Marple intervened gently but firmly. “It did remind you of something, didn’t it? What was it?”

Mrs. Miller tried very hard to remember, which clearly wasn’t an easy thing for her.

“Now that you mention it, ma’am… It was a bit like the noise my husband Eddie’s garden shed door makes when the wind is strong-blowing. But that doesn’t make any sense,” she added, looking around it the dining room. “This room has no door leading outside.”

“But it has two windows with wooden shutters,” Miss Marple looked at said windows, in front of which the heavy curtains were still closed; then she turned to Constable Palk. “Perhaps we should check if one of them is open.”

Constable Palk gave the inspector a questioning look. Were it up to him, he’d have followed the old lady’s suggestion at once. But with a superior present he found it better to get the nod from him first.

Inspector Slack nodded. The curtains were thick enough to keep the draft out, even if the windows were open. Taking a look made sense.

Constable Palk pulled the curtains aside, letting in the pale morning light. One of the windows was closed, but the other one stood wide open, the shutters rattling in the light breeze. And on the window frame there was a smear that looked suspiciously like dried blood.

“It seems the murderer has escaped through this window, sir,” Constable Palk said.

That simple statement nearly sent Mrs. Miller into paroxysms. “While I was right there, in the kitchen?” She gasped, on the verge of a full-blown panic.

“You’ve probably frightened him away,” Miss Marple said firmly. “You were never in danger, Gladys. Now, I need you to look around here, really look, and tell us if anything is missing… or if there’s anything that doesn’t belong here.”

Inspector Slack had to admit that Miss Marple had a true gift with handling stupid, hysterical women. After blinking rapidly a few times, Mrs. Miller followed the instructions and proved every bit as observant as Miss Marple had said she would be. Having served in the house for seven years she’d had ample time to learn the usual place of things, so after a while she declared that nothing seems to be missing.

“That cutlery box, though,” she indicated the murder weapon, “it doesn’t belong here. Mr. Berrywhite always kept it in the wardrobe, under his shoe boxes.”

“Interesting,” Miss Marple murmured. “Not that he’d need such fancy cutlery, of course; he practically never incited anyone into his house. Still…was this hole in the lid always there?”

Mrs. Miller nodded energetically. “Oh yes, ma’am! Mr. Berrywhite had once lost the key and had to force the lid open.”

“He told you that?”

“Yes, ma’am. I wanted to clean the cutlery, but Mr. Berrywhite said it was unnecessary. Gentlemen have no idea about such things,” she added, a little indignantly.

Inspector Slack exchanged a knowing look with Miss Marple. Since the box had additional hooks on either side of the keyhole with which to close the lid, the story about the lost key was more than questionable. Not to mention that had one needed to force the lid open, they’d have tried to break up the lock, instead of making a hole in the middle. That served no purpose and made no sense at all – unless one wanted to pull something thin out of the box.

“What about the cutlery itself? Miss Marple asked. “Was the big ladle always missing?”

“Oh no, ma’am, at least not last time I saw the box open; though that was a year or two ago, if not even more.”

“And what was the ladle like?”

“The same as the rest of the cutlery, ma’am: big, massive, with all these fancy swirls at the end of the handle… and the same initials, too.”

Constable Palk gave said initials a closer look. He was a young man with good eyes, but even he had a hard time to recognize the spidery letters.

“I’d say it reads A.A,” he declared after a while, “which is odd. Those aren’t the initials of Mr. Berrywhite.”

“No,” Miss Marple said. “But they are the initials of the late Colonel Augustus Abbington, the original owner of Little Gates – that neat little cottage near the vicarage. You’re too young to remember, Constable, but I happen to know that when Colonel Abbington died some seventeen years ago, his footman disappeared without a trace… and with him several moderately valuable items. A cutlery box, however, was never listed among them,” she added thoughtfully.

Inspector Slack frowned. “Are you saying that Mr. Berrywhite was, in fact, Colonel Abbington’s missing footman?”

Miss Marple shook her head decidedly. “No. The footman, I think Jenkins was his name, or Jennings, or something similar, was at least a head shorter than Mr. Berrywhite… if that was, in truth, his name. I believe, though, that the two of them ransacked Colonel Abbington’s house after his death. The footman got away with a few minor items, while his partner-in-crime moved into St. Mary Mead to watch the things of true value, until the investigation got dropped.”

“When did Mr. Berrywhite move in?” Inspector Slack asked.

“Four years after Colonel Abbington’s death,” Miss Marple replied without hesitation. “This cottage originally belonged to a certain Mrs. Camden; Mr. Berrywhite was a distant cousin of hers, or so he said. Mr. Petherick found nothing wrong with the papers, but, of course, a skilled forger can make very good false papers nowadays.”

“But why would Mr. Berrywhite want this cottage to begin with?” wondered Constable Palk. “It is small, not very pretty, and I doubt that it was in a very good shape, even back then.”

“True,” Miss Marple replied. “But as everyone old enough could tell you, Mrs. Camden used to be Colonel Abbington’s housekeeper for many long years. It’s logical to assume that she was part of the burglary and that the items of true value were hidden in her house for safekeeping.”

“Easier than trying to smuggle them out, especially if they were large and heavy,” Inspector Slack agreed. “And when the old woman died, her… cousin inherited the house; and the booty. What did she die from?”

Miss Marple thought for a moment. “Natural causes, if I remember correctly. She was quite old and caught pneumonia. We can never be absolutely certain, of course, but Doctor Haydock didn’t find anything suspicious; and Doctor Haydock is a very good physician.”

“So she dies, Mr. Berrywhite inherits everything and then, many years later, this footman this Jenkins or Jennings or whatever his name is, comes back and kills him for what? A kitchen ladle?” Constable Palk said doubtfully. “Why now and not much earlier?”

“Perhaps he couldn’t come back earlier,” Miss Marple replied. “Perhaps he was in prison. He might have committed another crime and got caught; he didn’t prove to be a very good burglar in this case, either.”

“And coming from prison, without a penny to his name, he remembers his old chum, Mr. Berrywhite, and decided to demand his due part from the Abbington burglary,” Inspector Slack summarized. “That’s one aspect we can check; to see if anyone matching has been recently released from prison. But why would he go such lengths for a kitchen ladle?”

“I don’t think it was just the ladle,” Miss Marple said. “That was only the next best thing he grabbed when he heard Gladys coming, so that he wouldn’t leave with empty hands. I think he had his eyes on the whole cutlery box.”

“But why?” Inspector Slack gave the fairly tasteless eating utensils a doubtful look. “Nothing in there seems particularly valuable.”

“Not to the naked eye,” Miss Marple allowed. “But perhaps if we scratched the surface a bit we might find something more interesting.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As it could have been expected, she proved right again. After a thorough examination by experts, the ugly, blackened and yellowed cutlery turned out to be massive gold; and by the amount and weight of it, worth a small fortune. It was assumed that the late Colonel Abbington acquired the gold during his years of service in India – presumably by not entirely honest methods, although it couldn’t be proved after all those years – and smuggled it back to England, disguised as a box of unattractive family heirlooms.

After researching the true identity of “Mr. Berrywhite”, it was found out that he had been, in truth, a certain Barry Whaite, once a young lieutenant serving under Colonel Abbington in India, but dishonourably discharged from HRM’s Army for theft and other petty crimes. He couldn’t have been a clever criminal if he wasn’t even able to find a better alias for himself, Inspector Slack commented.

Arthur Jennings, the footman, had already served the colonel in this function in India, and Mrs. Camden had been, in fact, his aunt. Jennings had spent fifteen years in prison for manslaughter, previously to the current case. Coming free, he found his aunt dead and his partner-in-crime living in her cottage, with falsified papers, playing her cousin. They got in an argument over the booty and Jennings killed Whaite in affect.

He got caught in Liverpool, trying to leave England by ship, still carrying the kitchen ladle in his trunk.

“What will happen to the cutlery box now?” Miss Marple asked, offering Constable Palk biscuits and a cordial, which the constable, being off-duty, thankfully accepted.

“Mr. Petherick’s office got tasked with finding any distant relatives of Colonel Abbington,” he explained. “Shouldn’t there be none, the gold will go to the Crown, since its origins can’t be tracked back anymore. Still congratulations are in order, Miss Marple. You’ve done it again.”

“In truth, it was Gladys Miller who’s done it,” Miss Marple corrected modestly. “She was the one identifying all the clues. As I’ve told Inspector Slack, she’s a very observant woman. One just has to know how to question her.”

~The End~

For visuals: the actual cutlery box that inspired this story

Outside:

Inside:

Part of the things were already missing when I first saw the box at the age of oh, perhaps four years? I think Grandma got it in this condition to begin with.

Xmas gift fic 2021 - for phoenixdragon

wiseheart — Mon, 13 Dec 2021 16:54:40 GMT

LOYALTY
by Soledad

Fandom: Sherlock BBC/Torchwood x-over
Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, Toshiko Sato (mentioned), Suzie Costello (mentioned), Harry Sullivan (mentioned)
Recipient: phoenixdragon
Note: This is a tie-in vignette to my series “Beautiful Minds”
Summary: A conversation with his little brother makes Mycroft Holmes realize that he’s responsible for the ones he considers his own.

Beta read by the generous curiouswombat, whom I owe my thanks.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Unlike way too many other members of the British government, Mycroft Holmes hated wasting resources. Especially human resources, as they were so much harder to replace than simple technology.

Consequently, he was aggrieved when he learned that one of his most promising protégées – the Japanese girl with a brain the size of a small planet who’d worked for his special government think tank for almost ten years now – had been charged with high treason and vanished into some secret UNIT prison without a trace.

How did UNIT dare to even touch one of his own? All freelancers of the think tank were his own, even if they didn’t know that. (Which they didn’t. It was safer that way, for both parties involved.) But UNIT did, and yet they had the audacity to lock him out of a decision he should have the final say in.

UNIT had been getting a bit too independent for his comfort lately. He had been sent the girl’s crime record, of course, they wouldn’t dare not to. It was sent to him afterwards, however, which was an insult in itself. He’d have to do something about that; perhaps it was time for a new commanding officer for the British Division – one with a different attitude.

He studied the file meticulously. Unfortunately, the girl had committed treason; had been forced to it, true, while her mother was being held hostage, but still… It couldn’t be denied that she was guilty of the act.

Such a criminal waste! And people wondered why he always said that caring was a disadvantage!

Not that he couldn’t understand the girl… to a certain extent anyway. He might have faltered, too, had it been Mummy who’d been held hostage. And God knows he’d bent enough rules, asked in enough semi-legal favours to bail Sherlock out of trouble again and again.

Which was exactly why caring was a disadvantage.

“Yes, yes, you’ve told me that, oh, about a thousand times already; don’t you think I might have understood by now?” the petulant voice of his brother said, making him realise that he’d spoken out loud, and Sherlock, wearing his pyjama bottoms and a dark blue dressing gown, sauntered into his inner sanctum without asking.

Mycroft suppressed a sigh. His little brother really didn’t have the slightest understanding of personal space. Or privacy, for that matter. But again, neither did he. Not really. No Holmes had ever had, if family legends could be trusted.

“What are you doing here, Sherlock?” he asked with barely veiled exasperation.

Not that Sherlock would care.

“I’m bored,” his brother replied, making a beeline for his desk and peering into the high security file open on the screen of his laptop nonchalantly. “Who’s this? She’s intriguing. Are you planning to exchange your robot PA for a lower-maintenance model?”

“Not your business,” Mycroft tried to shut the laptop but Sherlock evaded him with the fluid grace of a striking cobra, now definitely interested.

“Toshiko Sato,” he murmured, reading the file, safely out of Mycroft’s reach. “Born in London, 1975, moved to Osaka when she was two, then back to the UK in 1986. Parents in the RAF, grandfather worked at Bletchley Park. Very impressive. University... what, two PhDs at her age? As I said, impressive. Snapped up by that government science think tank of yours at the age of… twenty? Wow! Working for it on a freelance basis ever since. Hired by the Lodmoor Research Facility, a division of the Ministry of Defence two years ago… hmmm, very good. She’d do much better than your current slave, what’s her name this week? Quintessima?”

“Unfortunately, that isn’t an option,” Mycroft finally managed to snatch the laptop away from his brother. “Even if I intended to replace Quilla – which I do not – I couldn’t hire someone who’s been charged with high treason in her stead.”

“What?” Sherlock asked in surprise. “This meek little nerd? What has she done, stolen the formula for the Queen’s new birthday perfume in order to impress her boyfriend?”

“No,” Mycroft replied primly. “She stole the plans for that new sonic weapon Lodmoor was experimenting with for the Ministry of Defence and gave it to the Costello cell.”

Everyone else would have blanched at that piece of information. The terrorist cell led by Suzie Costello – an ex-Army veteran and weapons expert – had been one of the most dangerous ones taken out in the recent years. Sherlock, however, just shrugged.

“So what? I told you: a prototype built according to those plans would never work. There was a fatal mistake in the construction matrix.”

“She also built the weapon,” Mycroft added quietly.

Sherlock frowned. “What?”

“She’s not just a theoretical scientist,” Mycroft reminded him. “She’s got a degree in engineering, too. She built the weapon; and it worked.”

Sherlock shook his head. “That’s impossible. Those plans were faulty. No weapon built based on them could ever work.”

“She didn’t exactly build the weapon according to those plans,” Mycroft said dryly. “She corrected them during construction.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened to an almost impossible size. “She did what?”

“She corrected the plans, running against time while her mother was held hostage, she built the weapon – and it worked,” Mycroft explained grimly. “MI5 stormed the terrorists’ hiding place at the exact moment when she delivered the weapon and was about to be killed for her efforts.”

“You mean she was caught red-handed,” Sherlock mused. “What’s going to happen to her now?”

Mycroft sighed. “What do you think? Those events officially never happened. She’s already gone; vanished into some secret UNIT prison without a trace, never to be seen again. Her mother got sent back to Japan; she won’t be allowed to return to the UK as long as Toshiko is alive, as she’s become a liability.”

“What about the rest of the family?” Sherlock asked. “Have they vanished as well?”

Mycroft shook his head. “Her grandfather is a decorated war hero; they can’t make him disappear quite so easily. He’s got more medals for his work at Bletchley Park than he could probably wear on his chest at the same time. However, he went with the mother voluntarily, to support her. She was badly shaken.”

“Being abducted by terrorists and held at gunpoint to blackmail one’s daughter into cooperation can do that to an ordinary person,” Sherlock’s dry tone revealed that he didn’t count himself among such persons. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“What do you mean?” Mycroft frowned. “There’s nothing I can do! She is guilty; and besides, the case isn’t within my jurisdiction.”

“When did such mundane details ever keep you from getting whatever you wanted?” Sherlock returned sharply. “You are the British government, for God’s sake. When you’re not being the British Secret Service, that is. Or the CIA on a freelance basis. You could get the girl out of that fetid hole, couldn’t you?”

“Perhaps,” Mycroft allowed cautiously. “But why should I want to go to such lengths for her? She is guilty.”

“Yes, but she’s also a genius; the best mind you’ve ever had in that ridiculous think tank of yours, since I refused to get involved,” Sherlock said haughtily. “You’ve already lost two people from that group, due to your sloppy background check on Costello. Don’t you think you’re just a little bit responsible?”

Mycroft raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “Are you trying to apply emotional blackmail, brother mine?”

“Yes,” Sherlock replied without losing a beat. “Is it working?”

“Not really,” Mycroft said. “But why are you so interested anyway? You don’t even know her.”

“Cause I hate wasting resources as much as you do,” Sherlock returned. “This girl is a certified genius on a planet full of idiots, and you’d let her rot in prison? Let that beautiful mind of hers become numb with monotony and die piece by piece in all the decades she’s likely to spend as a nameless prisoner? You’d allow all that potential to be lost? Can the world, can England, can you really afford to lose her?”

“Perhaps not,” Mycroft allowed; his brother did have a point, after all. Scientific minds like Toshiko’s were rare gems that needed to be kept safe and polished from time to time. “It’s not that easy as you might think, though. Even if I could bail her out of prison, I can’t hire somebody to work for me if they’d been charged and found guilty of high treason.”

“Not officially anyway,” Sherlock said.

Mycroft frowned. He did that a lot around his brother.

“What do you have in mind?” he asked.

Sherlock shrugged. “Well, haven’t we just agreed that I’d start my new career as a consulting detective? As such, I’ll need an assistant. Preferably an able scientist who can help me with my experiments and keeps the website updated. One who’d actually understand what I’m talking about, unlike most people.”

Mycroft stared at his brother as if the younger Holmes had suddenly sprouted another head.

“You want Toshiko Sato as your assistant?” he finally asked. “Assuming that I could sell the idea, which is highly unlikely, just how would that not be a waste of her potential?”

“Well, she can still work for you while she’s working with me,” Sherlock pointed out in what he probably thought was a reasonable manner. “It’s an elegant solution.”

In his bizarre world of thinking it probably made perfect sense. Mycroft, however, being a great deal more connected to mundane reality, wasn’t so sure about that.

“Yeah, I can see how it would sound plausible to UNIT and MI5 and all the other authorities,” he said with a sour smile. “Oh, no problems about security, ladies and gentlemen! My little brother, the ex-junkie will keep an eye on her. Why, he’s just finished his therapy successfully, wouldn’t he be the best person for the job? That will certainly persuade everyone about the soundness of the idea.”

Sherlock shrugged again, not the least bothered by those arguments.

“You’re the one insisting that I need a flatmate,” he said. “And I know you’ve had 221B full of surveillance cameras from the moment I moved in. She can have the flat in 221C and you can spy on both of us at the same time. Wouldn’t that be economical?”

“You mean I should simply ask her to move in with a complete stranger – and a man at that, not to mention an ex-junkie – and become his assistant?” Mycroft asked sarcastically.

“Problem?” Sherlock asked with another shrug. “You know I’m not interested in that sort of thing. Women, that is.”

“I know but she doesn’t,” Mycroft reminded him.

“She’ll realise soon enough,” Sherlock replied. “Besides, I doubt she’d prefer the prison.”

That was certainly true. So true that Mycroft found himself actually considering his brother’s completely mad idea. Sherlock was right in one thing: it would have been a shame to let somebody as brilliant as Toshiko Sato rot in that UNIT prison. Having her work with Sherlock, while giving her problems to solve for him could work. And having her at 221C as Sherlock’s neighbour would solve the surveillance problem rather neatly.

Not to mention that having somebody around Sherlock, somebody who could keep up with his brain capacity would keep him from getting bored and turning to cocaine again.

And Mrs Hudson would gladly take the girl under her wing. She’d try to bring her and Sherlock together, of course, she was a big old yenta, but the chances of that ever happening were practically nonexistent, what with Sherlock being uninterested in such things and the girl doubtlessly traumatised after her time in prison.

Yes, the idea did have its merits. Sherlock’s ideas usually did. But it would take a lot of careful manipulation, the calling in of many favours and some blatant blackmailing to make it work.

“I can help you with the blackmail material,” Sherlock offered, grinning like a loon.

Oh bother! Had he spoken out loud again? That was unacceptable, even though it only happened to him around his brother.

Especially because it only happened to him around his brother.

“Oh, please!” Mycroft said with an inelegant snort. “As if I needed your help to read the dirty little secrets of people who consider themselves important!”

“Oooh!” Sherlock’s eyes began to glitter with a truly mad glee. “You’ve finally found out something compromising about Brigadier Bambera?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Really, Sherlock, you should pay more attention to the shifts in power at the top! Winfried Bambera retired in the mid-1990s. Colonel Alan Mace is the current head of UNIT’s British division.”

“I don’t see why I should burden my brain with useless trivia,” Sherlock returned with an indifferent shrug. “Which one is Mace again? The one who’s had an affair with that blonde engineer?”

“Captain Price, yes,” Mycroft nodded.

“Wouldn’t that count as fraternisation?” Sherlock’s eyes took on that speculative look that always meant bad news for someone.

Mycroft shook his head, knowing exactly what his brother was thinking.

“Not enough,” he said. “We need more.”

“Well, you should ask someone who’s closer to them,” Sherlock suggested. “The old gentleman with the dramatic sideburns out of the 19th century, what’s his name again? The one who stopped the outbreak of that unknown epidemic in Africa and has always been doing something very hush-hush for you?”

“Commodore Sullivan,” Mycroft said slowly. “And in case you’ve forgotten, he’s also my godfather.”

That could work. Commodore Harry Sullivan had a lot of weight to throw around. Plus, he was an old friend of their parents, who had always valued Mycroft’s opinion… and Sherlock’s brilliance.

“He’d help you against Blaine’s influence,” Sherlock continued, picking up his violin. “That woman is a menace.”

“She’s very good at what she does, though,” Mycroft didn’t particularly like Margaret Blaine either, but he had to admit that she was ruthless and efficient – the very thing one needed in her position as a senior member of MI5. “Sherlock, if you’re about to torture that poor Stradivarius again, do kindly remove yourself to your own chambers. I’m trying to work here.”

“Dull,” Sherlock replied, but – oh wonder of wonders! – he actually did as he’d been told, for a change.

Still mildly shocked by his brother’s uncharacteristically cooperative mood, Mycroft picked up his specially secured phone to call Commodore Sullivan.

As unlikely as it was that Sherlock’s outlandish idea would work, he owed it to old Mr. Nakamura to give it a try. The old man had always doted on his brilliant and shy granddaughter. Besides, Mr. Nakamura had been a friend of Mummy’s, and Mummy would never forgive him if he didn’t try to save Toshiko, no matter what she’d done.

That, and he definitely felt like showing UNIT who had the last word in such matters in England.

~The End~

Pathways in the Dark - Timeline, Part 5.1

wiseheart — Fri, 30 Jul 2021 17:42:15 GMT

TIME FRAME OF THE SERIES

SEASON 1999/2000 – PTL, SEASON 4 – THE REMAINING EPISODES
BTVS, SEASON 4
ANGEL – THE SERIES [ATS], SEASON 1
CHARMED, SEASON 1

10. September 1999: Forget Me Not (PtL ep. 81)
– Kat forms a bond with a mysterious girl who pushes her into dangerous situations = Miranda is back!
AU note: Miranda is a 10th generation Brujah antitribu, a member of the Sabbat; a dhampir, born from a vampire and an evil witch with the help of Darkest Magic and Embraced by her own undead father at a very young age.

17. September 1999: The Portents (PtL ep. 82)
– Rachel and Alex investigate the violent death of a young monk and find that the Dark Side is planning to unseal a secret portal to Hell.
Canon note: This is the “Kristin Returns” episode under a new title.

24. September 1999: Gaslight (PtL ep. 83)
– One of Rachel’s long-time patients inherits the family mansion and is menaced by “ghosts” that inhabit the house. This results in life-threatening asthma attacks.

1. October 1999: Sabbaths End (PtL ep. 84)
– Kat faces mortal danger when she resumes her friendship with an ailing Miranda.
– To save Kat, Rachel must find magic powers from the past; a past she’d prefer to forget.
AU note: Miranda was sent by her pack priest to seduce Kat into becoming one of them. The Sabbat are making long-term plans to take over San Francisco after conquering LA and they want the powers that Kat possesses.

5. October 1999: The Freshman (BtVS ep. 57)/City Of… (At sep.1)
– Buffy & Co. go to university; they meet Riley, Professor Walsh and the commandos for the first time. Buffy defeats an Anarch gang led by Summer.
– First appearance of Giles’s new girlfriend, Olivia.
– After his disastrous road trip, Xander returns to Sunnydale;
– Cordelia goes to L.A. in order to become a movie star;
– Angel kills Russell Winters, a rich vampire industrial, who's actually Cyrus, the Brujah Prince of L.A.; he meets Doyle, sent to him by TPTB; together with Cordelia, they start Angel Investigations, in order to help people.
– First appearance of Wolfram & Hart lawyer, Lindsey McDonald.
AU note: I merged Summer with another black female vampire character, thus creating Sunset, a recurring Nosferatu character. I also merged Cyrus and Russell Winters, to open a way for Angel to become the Prince of LA, eventually.

7. October 1998: Something Wicca This Way Comes (Ch. Ep. 1)
– The Halliwell sisters are reunited. Phoebe discovers the Book of Shadows and accidentally activates their witchy powers.
– Piper narrowly escapes death when she discovers that her boyfriend, Jeremy, is an evil warlock.

8. October 1999: The Mephisto Strain (PtL ep. 85)
– Alex struggles to cure Nick and stay alive in the process; Nick’s been infected by a demonic parasite that makes him see evil around him, including in the very person who’s desperately trying to help him.

12. October 1999: Living Conditions (BtVS ep. 58)/Lonely Hearts (AtS ep. 2)
– Buffy reveals the true nature of her annoying room-mate: Kathy is a 3000-year-old, soulless demon who escaped from her own dimension. After getting rid of her, she can finally share her room with Willow. She also meets Parker Abrams for the first time.
– Angel meets Detective Kate Lochley and solves the case of the parasitic Burrower demon that preys on the singles in the Club D’Oblique.
Crossover note: The D’Oblique is owned by Victor Girard, Toreador Primogen of LA. The apartment above the club contains the Conclave room of the late Toreador Prince, Don Sebastian Domingues.

14. October 1998: I’ve Got You Under My Skin (Ch. ep. 2)
– Phoebe falls for a hip photographer who’s actually Javna, a deadly demon that maintains his eternal youth by sucking away the life force of young women.
– Prue rekindles her high-school romance with Inspector Andy Trudeau and lands a prestigious job at an auction house.

19. October 1999: The Harsh Light of Day (BtVS ep. 59)/In the Dark (AtS ep. 3)
– Spike returns to Sunnydale to find the Gem of Amara; the now-vampire Harmony Kendall becomes his lover. He finds the Gem but Buffy takes it from him and sends it to L.A., to Angel, with Oz, who's on a tour with the Dingoes.
– Buffy gets seduced by Parker Abrams and sleeps with him; but gets dropped on the next day. (Canon note: Parker mentions the death of his father, which happened in the previous year.)
– Anja also returns to Sunnydale because she’s been missing Xander; they start an affair;
– Spike follows Oz to L.A., captures and tortures Angel to get the Gem back;
– The AI-team rescues their boss with Oz's help;
– After a blissful day in sunlight, Angel destroys the Gem;
AU note: Parker was originally named Finch, as intended to be the son of the Deputy Mayor Alan Finch, whom Faith accidentally killed in “Bad Girls” – an interesting concept that, sadly, got cancelled. I kept the concept for “Pathways”, making Parker the illegitime, yet much-loved son of Alan Finch, who – after discovering what happened to his father – will eventually team up with the Dark Side to seek revenge.

21. October 1998: Thank You For Not Morphing (Ch. Ep. 3)
– The sisters’ long-lost father resurfaces to steal The Book of Shadows… with the interference of some shape-shifting neighbours.

26. October 1999: Fear Itself (BtVS ep. 60)/ I Fall to Pieces (AtS ep. 4)
– Two completely insignificant A-stories: the Halloween party on campus and the obsessed doctor who can direct separate parts of his own body to harass his love interest – but some interesting bits of information, like:
a) the second appearance of the commandos,
b) Anya and Xander’s first real date,
c) Giles starting to adopt to American lifestyle,
d) Angel’s first paying customer.
Canon note: Anya is afraid of rabbits and Angel loves coffee. The Demon of Fear, Grachnar, is actually a two-inch dwarf. Buffy is still pining after Parker.

28. October 1998: Dead Man Dating (Ch. Ep. 4)
– Prue doesn’t want a birthday celebration and is devastated when he finds Andy on a lunch date with his ex-wife whom she didn’t know existed.
– Phoebe takes a cheesy job as a lounge psychic so she can afford a decent birthday gift and ends up saving a man’s life.
– Piper befriends a ghost, who was murdered by a gang leader and whose soul will be dragged to hell if his body doesn’t get a proper burial. The sisters save his soul but Piper is heartbroken after he vanishes.

2. November 1999: Beer Bad (BtVS ep. 61)/Room w/a View (AtS ep. 5)
– Willow gets more and more jealous about Veruca and gives Parker a piece of her mind.
– Buffy mutates to cave-Slayer due to cursed beer and beats up Parker.
– Cordelia moves in with Phantom Dennis and destroys the evil spirit of his mother;
Canon note: We learn that Doyle not only drinks like a fish but also owes a lot of money due to unlucky gambling.

4. November 1998: Dream Sorcerer (Ch ep. 5)
– Prue finds her sleep disturbed by strange dreams in which she is stalked and taunted by a wheelchair-bound man who is actually a sleep researcher named Whitaker Berman. He kills women who he feels scorned him by visiting them in their dreams where he has absolute power.

5. November 1999: Internal Affairs (PtL ep. 86)
– An ancient deck of Tarot cards enlivens a tedious evening for Derek, Nick and Alex. However, each card underscores the high personal cost of their allegiance to the Legacy.

9. November 1999: Wild at Heart (BtVS ep. 62)/Sense & Sensibility (AtS ep. 6)
– Oz gets involved with Veruca, who turns out to be another werewolf. Veruca claims Oz as her chosen mate and tries to kill Willow. Oz rips out Veruca’s throat in order to protect Willow; then – shaken by his own violence – he leaves Sunnydale.
– Spike returns to finally finish off Buffy but gets captured by the Initiative;
– Angel and Kate work together the first time, capturing Little Tommy, a local mob boss; Wolfram & Hart, Little Tony’s lawyers, order a “sensitivity training” to rescue their client but fail, thanks to Angel.
– Kate’s father retires as a cop; their relationship takes a turn to the worse.
AU note: Leaving Sunnydale, Oz runs into Eric, The Spirit Crow: a young Cherokee shaman and Gangrel vampire on the outskirts of LA; Eric’s undead “family” introduces him to the local Werewolves from the tribe Uktena (also Coast Salish Indians), who offer to help him learning how to control the wolf. (See: “The Path of the Wolf”)
BtVS canon states that Oz has been travelling around the globe and finally leaned in Tibet how to control his wolf nature – and all that in less than 3 months. I find that highly unlikely. So I chose to send him to his own people instead, in order to help him accept what he is and what he (according to my own take about Lupines) always has been.

11. November 1998: The Wedding from Hell (Ch ep. 6)
– A demonic bride-to-be, Jade D'Mon, suddenly replaces a human bride a week before her wedding, by having a magical contractual 'hold' over the grooms' mother, as well as by casting a spell over the groom. The Halliwell sisters gradually discover the strange events about the wedding, as Piper is catering the event.

12. November 1999: The Beast Within (PtL ep. 87; also the series finale)
– Plagued by nightmares and visitations from his father’s evil spirit, Derek fears that the Portal to Hell has been breached. He is faced with an agonizing decision: to stop the Antichrist, he has to destroy all that he holds dear – including the SF Legacy House.
Canon note: In Ep. 82: The Portents, it was revealed that the SF House has been built over a mystical gateway to Hell. This gateway had been sealed with a literal portal. As the new millennium dawned, the Portal weakened. Agents of the Dark Side attempted to breach the Portal, but the ghost of Kristin Adams sacrificed itself to re-seal it.
The “Testament of Golgotha” Derek was looking for is a rare ancient text, containing steps to prevent the coming of the Antichrist.
AU note: The shadowy spirits that escaped and coalesced to form small, hooded figures in this episode, are identical to the robed figures who’d summoned up Vocah from Hell in the AtS ep “To Shanshu in LA”.
Derek has clearly chosen Nick as his predecessor; however, the Ruling Council – lead by the re-elected Sir Edward Tremain, overrides his decision, wanting another scholar/scientist to lead the House after it has been rebuilt and consecrated again.
In PtL canon Derek realizes that Alex was in love with him, has been all these years. I chose to ignore that, as every female being in love with the male lead has been done to death.

16. November 1999: The Initiative (BtVS ep. 63)/The Bachelor Party (AtS ep. 7)
– Riley and his 'friends', Forrest Gates and Graham Miller, turn out to belong to the commandos; we learn what Initiative is and that Professor Walsh is their boss. (This is the first appearance of Forrest and Graham).
– Spike escapes from the Initiative labs but discovers (while trying to bit Willow) that he can’t harm humans anymore – Harmony throws him out, getting fed up with his lies.
– Riley hits Parker Abrams for speaking bad about Buffy (even though Parker only tells the truth); he finally admits his interest in Buffy
– Doyle's still-wife, from whom he lives separated, asks for a divorce because she wants to marry Richard Straley, a respectable Ano-Moric demon (Harriet is an amateur demonologist). She cancels the wedding, however, when she learns that to do so the groom needs to eat the ex-husband’s brain.
– Doyle saves Cordelia from a vampire. She starts seeing him in a different light, complaining that rich and handsome men aren’t enough for her anymore – they have to be heroes, too.
AU note: Oz visits Angel and they have a heart-to-heart, discussing conscience issues. Oz also tells Angel the whole Buffy/Parker story. He decides to switch to UCLA, starting next term, and offers Angel his help if necessary. Doyle offers Oz his spare bedroom – not totally selflessly, as a werewolf flat-mate can be handy sometimes. (See “The Path of Wolves”.)

23. November 1999: Pangs (BtVS ep. 64)/I Will Remember You (AtS ep. 8)
– Doyle has a vision about Buffy being in mortal danger, so Angel secretly returns to Sunnydale, accompanied by Oz, to see if he can help.
– Meanwhile, a starving and desperate Spike seeks out Giles’s help (since Harmony turned him away), in exchange for information about the commandos.
– A Shumash spirit is accidentally released by Xander during a digging; Xander gets seriously ill and people start getting killed. Oz calls Blackfeather for advice and the Gangrel tells him that only its own ceremonial knife can kill the spirit. He also tells Oz to return immediately, without saying him why.
– Getting rid of the Shumash spirit, the Scoobies have their Halloween dinner at Giles’s place and Xander accidentally reveals that Angel has been there. After they leave, Angel feeds Spike his Vitae before returning to LA. See: First Blood.
– Buffy follows Angel to LA, furious that he was stalking her. Due to the blood of a Mokra demon, Angel becomes human, and the two have sex. Afterwards, Angel visits the Oracles, asking them to turn back time, because he’s needed having his full vampire strength for the good fight, not as a weak human.
– At the same time Oz learns that Veruca has indeed survived their brutal fight and is currently treated by Tonani, the Uktena healer. See: The Path of Wolves.
Canon note: Anya and Xander are now officially a couple. “Rogue demon hunter” Wesley Wyndham-Price almost manages to capture Barney, the empath demon in Phoenix.

24. November 1998: The Truth Is Out There… and It Hurts (Ch ep. 8)
– Acting on Phoebe's premonition of a woman electrocuted magically through the center of her forehead, the sisters race to stop a mysterious warlock, who came from the future for killing those responsible for creating a vaccine against warlocks.
– Prue, sadly, finds out that Andy cannot handle the knowledge of her powers and the magical parallel reality she has to deal with. She breaks up with him.

30. November 1999: Something Blue (BtVs ep. 65)/Hero (AtS ep. 9)
– Willow's still miserable and tries a spell to make herself feel better. Unfortunately, the spell backfires, making Giles lose his eyesight, Xander becoming a demon magnet and Spike and Buffy falling in love.
– D’Hoffryn offers her to become a vengeance demon instead of Anya, but she refuses.
– Amy Madison becomes human for a few seconds then turns back into a rat again.
– A slowly recovering Veruca tells Oz that she understands his confusion and why he did what he did. She still wants him as her chosen mate but leaves the decision to him. She also tells him the history of her family. X-over reference: “Rough Beast”, PtL ep.30.
– The Scourge (a particularly vicious pack of Tzimisce) come to L.A. to kill all demons with as much as a drop human blood in their veins. Doyle dies heroically, protecting a harmless clan of Lister demons, giving his seer abilities to Cordy through their first (and only) kiss. Oz takes over Doyle’s apartment. See: The New Den
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse the backfired spell is what makes Buffy believe that Spike is in love with her. I never bought that. Sorry.

14. December 1999: Hush (BtVS ep. 66)/Parting Gifts (AtS ep . 10)
– Olivia pays Giles a visit again, so Spike has to move into Xander’s basement for a while.
– Xander and Anya have a big fight, while Buffy and Riley can’t get over their shyness.
– Willow meets Tara in a self-exclaimed witch group; they practice magic together for the first time;
– The 'Gentlemen' play havoc in Sunnydale; the forced muteness solves a few personal problems.
– In San Francisco, Prince Julian Luna is worried about the recent events: the4 fall of the Legacy House, the failed Ascesion in Sunnydale and Cyrus’s death. He sends Sonny to LA (since Frank and him take part in the Officer Exchange Program) and instructs him to keep an eye on Angelus. We learn that Daedalus has a nun friend in LA, a demonologist who works for the Legacy. See: Strange Encounters
– Cordelia has indeed inherited Doyle's visions. An empath demon (Barney) asks for Angel’s help; his pursuer turns out to be Wesley, who then helps Angel rescue Cordelia from the clutches of Wolfram & Hart who have bought her “Seer eyes” in an auction.
Canon note: Wesley is obviously starving in the demon hunter business; he speaks several exotic demon languages; Angel speaks Korean.
AU note: Angel’s friend, Soon is the leader of the Kuei-yin, the Kindred of the East, in Koreatown.

16. December 1998: The Witch Is Back (Ch ep. 9)
– Matthew Tate, a warlock cursed by the sisters' ancestor, Melinda Warren, in the 17th century in colonial New England, is inadvertently released by Prue from a cursed locket which will open only to a Warren descendant. Aware of the situation, the sisters resurrect Melinda to combat him. Together they trap him back in the locket, but their secret is revealed to Prue's boss, Rex, and co-worker, Hannah, who are warlocks.
AU note: The resurrection part doesn’t happen in the “Pathways”-verse!

Winter Break 1999/2000
– The Legacy people have been temporary reassigned to other houses until the San Francisco House can be rebuilt.
– Alex has taken a sabbatical and returned to her grandmother’s people in Bayou. She’s managed to make peace with her sister, Tanya, again.
– Veruca is now completely healed and starts singing again, with Eric and Oz as her small band. It’s called “The Wolfpups”. See: The Path of Wolves.
– The Bat Gang is grieving for Doyle.
– Wesley still tries to survive as a rouge demon hunter (with even less success). He discovers an old friend, ex-Watcher Lars DeBoer, who’s now owner of an occult bookshop.
– Sonny Toussaint and Frank Kouhanek arrive in LA in early January and get assigned to Kate’s precinct, where Frank and Kate discover common interests almost immediately. Sonny visits the important Ventrue leaders of the city: Louis Fortier, Anarch and Minister of the Western City of LA as well as Ventrue Primogen Edward Vignes. See: Ventrue Visits. Note: Frank still doesn’t know for sure that Sonny is a vampire.

13. January 1999: Wicca Envy (Ch ep. 10)
– Rex uses astral projection to control Prue's mind, tricking her into stealing a tiara from a vault in the auction house. Prue ends up in jail. Rex blackmails the sisters into giving up their powers to him, but Leo, revealing himself as some kind of supernatural protector of the sisters, returns their powers to them. Prue, Piper and Phoebe defeat Rex and Hannah who are vanquished by evil forces for their failure.
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse the White-lighters are an estranged branch of the Watchers’ Council, well-versed in magic but without any supernatural abilities!

18. January 2000: Doomed (BtVS ep. 67)/Somnambulist (AtS ep. 11)
– 3 Vahrall demons try to open the Hellmouth again by sacrificing themselves.
– Buffy and Riley finally talk and set things straight; they also get together.
– Spike tries to kill himself but cheers up considerably when he discovers that at least he still can beat up demons;
– Penn, an early Childe of Angelus, returns to L.A. and plays havoc again;
– While killing Penn, Kate discovers Angel's true identity.
Canon note: The items the Vahrall demons need for the sacrifice are: the blood of a man, the bones of a child and an amulet named “The Word of Valios”.
Au note: It would be unlikely that Kate would find all necessary information so easily, so I established the fact that she’s an old friend of Harriet Doyle, who’s still angry at Angel for Doyle’s death and helped her.

20. January 1999: Feats of Clay (Ch ep. 11)
– Phoebe’s ex-boyfriend, Clay, comes to town looking for a reconciliation, but his attentions have always come with strings attached; this time a stolen Egyptian urn that carries a mortal curse.
– Prue tries to save the auction house from bankruptcy.
– Piper’s use of benign witchcraft in a misguided attempt at matchmaking may have the opposite effect.

25. January 2000: A New Man (BtVS ep. 68)/Expecting (AtS ep. 12)
– Ethan Rayne, visits Giles in Sunnydale and turns him into a Fryarl demon;
– Spike leaves Xander's basement and moves to a crypt, in order to have some kund of private life. He helps rescuing Giles (for good money, of course – by this incident we learn that he speaks several demon languages, among them Fryarl, and that he used to hire Fryarls for the more dirty work).
– Ethan gets arrested by the Initiative soldiers, but he's already told Giles how frightened the demons are of something called '314' (which is the door number of Professor Walsh' secret lab, by the way).
AU note: Ethan Rayne is the half-brother of Derek and Sister Ingrid Rayne. He is the middle of the three siblings, but from a different mother. Barbara, Ingrid and Derek’s mother is the Dutch one; Derek had his accent from her. Both male siblings met the first time with Giles (and each other) while attending university in Oxford. Ingrid knows about Ethan but they never actually met, since she joined her order at a very young age.
– Cordelia, in her usual eagerness to meet ‘important’ people, gets impregnated with evil demon spawn (that of a Haskell demon, actually, who procreates through human mediators). It is up to Angel and Wesley to save her life (and that of the other girls) before the demon babies would start to hatch. Wesley proves to be a crack shot and scientific knowledge comes in handy (they freeze the demon with liquid nitrogen).
AU note #2: Sarina, Cordy’s black lady friend, will be Embraced into Clan Toreador by Rebecca Lowell about a year or so later.

3. February 1999: The Wendigo (Ch ep. 12)
– A Wendigo attacks Piper who begins to turn into one herself. The beautiful FBI agent teaming up with Andy to catch the Wendigo turns out to be the Wendigo herself.
– Phoebe gets a premonition from an item up for auction at Prue’s job and reluctantly involves Prue in a search for a lost child.

8. February 2000: The I in Team (BtVS ep. 69)/She (AtS ep.13)
– Buffy gets into the Initiative, sleeps with Riley, manages to alienate her friends and makes an enemy in Professor Walsh at the same time.
– Walsh organizes an “accident” for Buffy; when this doesn't work, she activates Adam, who promptly kills her.
– Tara and Willow grow together.
– Spike gets shot with a device by Riley’s troops.
– Angel makes friends with Phantom Dennis during Cordela's party; in the next morning, he offers the completely broken Wesley a job.
Au Notes: While researching the Oden Tal demons, Wesley meets Sister Grace for the first time in the occult bookshop and gets an open invitation to use the Secret Library of the Convent House any time he needs it. Due to this meeting we learn about the ties between the Legacy and the Watchers; namely that the latter are but a minor branch of the Legacy. (See: “Strange Encounters”)
Sonny gets involved with Laura Costello on Cordelia’s party; she finds out what he is, and he Embraces her because she’s a resistor and cant be made forget.

15. February 2000: Goodbye, Iowa (BtVS ep. 70)/I've Got You Under My Skin (AtS ep. 14)
– Adam is free, the Initiative soldiers grow crazy without their daily drug treatment. Adam kills Dr. Angleman and Riley (who’s shaken by he discovery that Buffy hides Hostile 17 and socializes with demons) gets injured and transported to a military hospital.
– Spike gets beaten up badly in Willie’s demon bar.
– Tara – who believes in the family legend - sabotages Willow's demon-detecting spell, in fear that she might get revealed as a demon host;
– Angel tries to help a young boy who’s possessed by an Ethros demon; his relationship with Wesley develops and we learn about Wesley's troubled childhood as well as about his extraordinary abilities as a researcher and a Watcher.
– By looking or a professional exorcist, they meet an old nun (Sister Maura, who lives with Sister Grace at the Convent House), who realizes immediately what Angel is and tells them that Father Frederick died 6 months earlier during an exorcism.
Canon note: There’s a shop for occult things. Ethros demons need lots of salt to recover and they produce a glowing substance called Plactacine.

22. February 2000: This Year's Girl (BtVS ep. 71)/The Prodigal (AtS ep.15)
– Faith awakes from coma and flees the hospital; a nurse calls the Council's thugs in.
– Faith switches bodies with Buffy, due to the Mayor's last gift.
– Vampires kill Kate's father, who was involved in illegal (demon) drug business.
– Wesley proves to be a top researcher, dissecting and identifying dead demons; the (unusually peaceful) species apparently contains only females.
– Kate turns against Angel, whose own troubled relationship with his father is showed in flashbacks.
AU note: Kate and Frank Kouhanek start a relationship, finally finding someone who shares their knowledge about vampires and demons. Sonny finds this disturbing.

29. February 2000: Who Are You? (BtVS ep. 72)/The Ring (AtS ep. 16)
– In Buffy's body, Faith flirts with Spike (who’s a bit confused but finds her interesting), sleeps with Riley and captures Joyce Summers.
– Tara notices that 'Buffy' is not herself.
– Adam takes the vampires' angst for churches; he wants to build an army of demons and vampires.
– The Council's thugs capture Buffy (in Faith's body) and try to drag her to England, but she escapes.
– Adam and his vampires intend to kill a whole church full of people, but Riley and the two Slayers destroy the undead army (we learn that Riley is a regular church-goer).
– Angel is lured into a trap and has to fight as a demon gladiator; Lilah Morgan offers him freedom in exchange for not interfering with the affairs of Wolfram & Hart – he refuses and returns to the arena.
– Cordelia and Wesley rescue him; once again, Wesley proves his knowledge and abilities. They set the whole bunch of demon gladiators free.
Canon note: the Internet Demon Database is mentioned or the first time.
AU note: The IDD is run by Sister Grace, who’s a freelance Legacy member.

4. April 2000: Superstar (BtVS ep. 73)/Eternity (AtS ep. 17)
– Jonathan creates an alternative reality in Sunnydale, where he's the ultimate hero; unfortunately, it goes along with unleashing some ugly demon.
– Interestingly, only Adam is able to realize that this is not the real word they should live in.
– In LA, sinking TV-star Rebecca Lowell drugs Angel because she wants him to turn her, in order to gain eternal youth and beauty.
– The drugs set Angelus free, but Wesley manages to knock him out cold, realizing that they're dealing with an artificial and temporary effect. After the drugs wear off, Angel returns to his normal self.
AU note: A few months later Rebecca will be Embraced into Clan Toreador by her own long-time assistant, Lorena, who’s a 7th generation vampire, supposed to be dead for decades. After this, Lorena and Rebecca begin their campaign to undermine the position of Toreador Primogen and fashion czar Victor Girard. (See: Raven Embraced)

25. April 2000: Where the Wild Things Are (BtVS ep. 74)/Five by Five (AtS ep. 18)
– There is a crazy party in Riley's frat house, a lot of people nearly get killed, but Xander manages to save the day.
– Anya and Spike have a chat, whining about the good old (killing and maiming) times.
– Faith comes to L.A.; Wolfram & Hart hire her to kill Angel; she accepts.
– Faith kidnaps and tortures Wesley in order to gain Angel's attention, hoping that Angel would kill her. Instead, the vampire offers his help.

Pathways in the Dark - Timeline, Part 4

wiseheart — Fri, 23 Jul 2021 16:17:08 GMT

1998-99: PTL, SEASON 4
BTVS, SEASON 3

29. September 1988: Anne (BtVS ep. 35)
– Buffy looks into the mystery of rapidly aging street kids and ends up in a demon dimension where humans work as slaves. After beating the demons to crap and freeing the prisoners, she decides to return home.
Canon note: This is the second appearance of Joan/Chanterelle/Lily.

6. October 1998: Dead Man’s Party (BtVs ep. 36)
– Joyce Summers acquires an African mask for the gallery and hangs it up in her living room. Unfortunately, the mask raises dead people as zombies.
Canon note: The zombie-making demon is called Ovu Mobani, a Nigerian deity.

13. October 1998: Faith, Hope & Trick (BtVS ep. 37)
– New players enter the scene: Faith, Kendra’s successor, Mr. Trick, the enigmatic black vampire and Scott Hope, Buffy’s new love interest.
– Angel returns from Hell.
Canon note: As usual, Buffy is unable to remember the name of Kakistos and is ready to forget Angel for Scott Hope.

20. October 1998: Beauty and the Beasts (BtVS ep. 38)
– Oz has another wolf-night.
– Buffy finds Angel and they have to beat Scott’s best friend, Pete, who’s on a Jekyll/Hyde trip. In the end Angel regains his sanity and saves Buffy’s life.
– Buffy tells Angel about Scott, who shortly thereafter drops her like a hot potato.

3. November 1998: Homecoming (BtVS ep. 39)
– Getting delusions of grandeur, Buffy tries to become Homecoming Queen versus Cordelia.
– Mr. Trick organizes a Slayerfeast: a literal Slayer hunt.
– Willow and Xander start having smoochies.

10. November 1998: Band Candy (BtVS ep. 40)
– Ethan Rayne is back and distributes drugged candy to adults to make it possible for Mayor Wilkins to steal babies for a demon sacrifice.
– Giles and Joyce Summers, turned back to teenagers, have sex on the hub of a car.
Canon note: The snake-demon in the sewers is called Lucronis.

17. November 1998: Revelations (BtVS ep. 41)
– Angel’s return is revealed. The Scoobies react badly.
– The fake Watcher, Missus Gwendolyn Post, has to be defeated and the magic glove of Myhnegon destroyed, alongside a demon named Lagos, who’s looking for it.
Canon note: The first real flight between Angel-Faith and Buffy-Faith. Willow and Xander are having smoochies again. Buffy and Faith are growing apart.

24. November 1998: Lover’s Walk (BtVS ep. 42)
– Spike returns and wants Willow to cast a love spell: he wants Drusilla back. He kidnaps Willow and Xander who are found by Oz and Cordelia – kissing.
– Cordelia has an accident and is seriously injured afterwards, Oz and Willow break up.

8. December 1998: The Wish (BtVS ep. 43)
– The recovering Cordelia gets deeply humiliated by her former clique. She blames Buffy and wishes that she’d never come to Sunnydale. Anyanka, the vengeance demon and patron of scorned women, grants her wish – with devastating consequences.
Canon note: When Giles destroys Anyanka’s amulet, she stays trapped in the 18-year-old body of her human alter ego, Anya – not an easy thing for a 1,100-year-old ex-demon. Willow’s evil vampire counterpart is lesbian (or bi), which gives a glimpse into the future.

15. December 1998: Amends (BtVS ep. 44)
–The First Evil torments Angel in the form of Miss Calendar and tries to turn him evil again. Angel chooses to commit suicide instead, but the miracle of snow saves his life.
Canon note: This is the first time Angel’s importance for the fight between good and evil is mentioned. Later we’ll see ancient prophecies about this fact.

YEAR 1999

12. January 1999: Gingerbread (BtVS ep. 45)
– The Hansel and Gretel demon causes trouble in Sunnydale. Fanatic mothers – among them Buffy’s and Willow’s – decide to get rid of any occult forces… by killing their own daughters, if necessary.
Canon note: Second appearance of the rat spell; unfortunately, Amy gets stuck in rat form. We meet Michael, the warlock boy, and some of Giles’s books are burned.

19. January 1999: Helpless (BtVS ep. 46)
– Buffy turns 18 and has to survive the sadistic exam by the Watchers’ Council.
– Giles gets fired for being “too engaged” with her.
Canon note: Buffy’s father abandons her for the first time. First appearance of Quentin Travers.

26. January 1999: The Zeppo (BtVS ep. 47)
– Xander gets his chance to defeat evil in the form of revived dead guys.
– Oz has another wolf-night, while the others fight to keep the Hellmouth from opening
– Faith and Xander have sex.
Canon note: First and – fortunately – only appearance of the Watchers’ spiritual guide: some sort of Latin-speaking, glowing cloud that’s unable to give any useful answers.

9-16. February 1999: Bad Girls/Consequences (BtVS eps 48-49)
– A new Watcher – Wesley Wyndham-Price – arrives in Sunnydale. Both Buffy and Faith reject him.
– A 15th century undead sect, the “Eliminati”, appear in Sunnydale to search for the talisman of their master, the demon Balthazar. Buffy finds the talisman and Balthazar has the two Watchers kidnapped. In order to free them, Buffy and Faith break into a weapons store, and Deputy Major Finch gets accidentally killed by Faith. She tries to blame Buffy, but Giles knows the truth.
– Wesley calls in the Watchers to bring Faith to England. Faith tries to kill Xander. Angel tries to bring her back to the proper path, but the Watchers interfere. She can flee, though, and joins Major Wilkins.
Canon note: Wesley fails here, big time. Buffy kills both Balthazar and Mr. Trick.

23. February 1999: Doppelgangland (BtVS ep. 50)
– Anya wants her powers back and talks Willow into a time-travelling spell – with the result that vampire!Willow from the Wishverse is unleashed on Sunnydale. She tries to kill Cordelia, but Wesley chases her away.
– Willow has to tutor Percy West, the high school football star.

16. March 1999: Enemies (BtVS, ep. 51)
– Faith gets re-assigned as Slayer; a demon offers her and Buffy the Books of Ascension, which the Mayor needs. Faith secretly kills the demon and brings the books to the Mayor.
– The two of them try to turn Angel back into Angelus. Angel pretends to do what they want, in order to find out what the Mayor is planning – who in the meantime has become immune against weapons.
– Oz discovers that the Mayor has already been there 100 years ago.
– Faith’s true allegiances are revealed.

19. March 1999: The Traitor, Part 1 of 2 (PtL ep. 66)
– The usually close-knit team turns on Derek and accuses him of killing an innocent man; unaware that their suspicions are controlled by the malevolent spirit of Reed Horton, a fallen Legacy agent, who wears the form of Legacy Internal Affairs leader Franklin Cross (whom he’s already killed).
– Meanwhile Mrs. Darkside openly recruits Alex to join them.
Canon note: This was supposed to be the first of the two-part 4th season opener, but SciFi changed the airings. I’ve put it back into the original timeline for continuity’s sake.

21. March 1999: Earshot (BtVS ep. 52)
– Buffy kills a telepath demon. Some of its blood gets absorbed through her skin and almost drives her crazy because it makes her fully telepathic. It’s up to Angel to feed her the heart of another telepath demon, in order to heal her.
– Meanwhile the cook plans to kill the students with rat poison, and Jonathan wants to commit suicide. Publicly.
Canon note: Buffy learns that her mother had sex with Giles in “Band Candy”.

26. March 1999: Double Cross, Part 2 of 2 (PtL ep. 67)
– Cross/Horton proceeds with the Dark Side’s scheme to infiltrate the Legacy by being appointed interim Precept while the SF House members mourn Derek’s apparent suicide.
– Alex realizes that she’s been deceived by the Dark Side.
See the canon note to ep. 66.

2. April 1999: Vendetta (PtL ep. 68)
– Derek and Kristin head to a small town to investigate several mysterious deaths by strangulation. The spirit of a woman wrongly hanged for murder seeks revenge on those responsible for her death.

9. April 1999: The Painting (PtL ep. 69)
– A patient of Rachel’s disappears and bequeaths a large, beautiful painting to her. Rachel is drawn to the mysterious artwork and seduced and sucked into it by its artist.
– Meanwhile, Kat becomes fast friends with a witch – Miranda – and learns more about herself in the process.
Crossover reference: Miranda is actually Cherubim, a Sabbat vampire, Embraced at a very young age, a member of the Shepherds of Caine pack.

16. April 1999: The Possession (PtL ep. 70)
– Sensing that her granddaughter, Alex, may be in danger, Rose Moreau travels from Baton Rouge to SF to give her a protective medaillon to wear. Rose suddenly takes ill and is admitted to hospital, but the doctors are unable to help her.
– When she slips into a coma, Alex has no choice but to resurrect the spirit of the dangerous shaman, Daniel Euwara, who may be the only one who can help.

23. April 1999: Song of a Raven, Part 1 of 2 (PtL ep. 71)
– Derek suspects that an inmate on Death Row is responsible for a series of killings identical to those which he was convicted.
– During the investigation he finds a new love interest in journalist Megan Torrence.

30. April 1999: Bird of Prey, Part 2 of 2 (PtL ep. 72)
– The executed Corvus continues killing people by possessing Jeffrey Sandor’s body (the fiancé of one of the victims).
Canon note: We learn that Alex has several Native American anthropologist friends.

4. May 1999: Choices (BtVS ep. 53)
– The Scoobie gang plans their college time, while Fatih gets the Box of Gavrock for the Mayor.
– Buffy and Angel steal the Box, but Willow gets captured, so they have to trade if for her life, despite Wesley’s protests.
Canon note: Cordelia’s parents have lost all their wealth ands he has to work in a clothes’ shop, not being able to go to college, in spite of her excellent results.

11. May 1999: The Prom (BtVS ep. 54)
– A student tries to massacre all people at Prom Night through his hellhounds.
– Joyce Summers has a heart to heart with Angel, with the result that the vampire breaks up with Buffy and sets her free – for her own good.
– Xander buys Cordy the prom dress, but he’s already promised Anya to be her partner at Prom Night.
– Wesley finally finds the courage to ask Cordy for a dance.

19-25. May 1999: Graduation Day, 1-2 (BtVS eps 55-56)
– Anya wants to start a relationship with Xander and tells the Scoobies what an Ascension Day is: the transformation of a hybrid into a full demon, which is almost impossible to kill. She saw the ascension of the demon Lokesh 800 years previously.
– Buffy sends her mother away to know that she’s safe.
– Faith kills an archaeologist who had data about the remains of the demon Ovlikan (believing that he’d found a new dinosaur) and shoots Angel with a poisoned dart.
– Wesley calls the Watchers’ Council but they refuse to help the vampire. Buffy defects the council which, of course, will cause Wesley to lose his job. First kiss between Wesley and Cordelia.
– Harmony gets turned; Principal Snyder gets eaten by Ovlikan.
– Oz discovers that the blood of the Slayer can heal Angel. They also understand that the Mayor intends to be reborn as the demon Ovlikan: a 60-feet demon snake.
– Buffy defeats Faith and the Mayor and heals Angel with her blood. Sunnydale High is destroyed.

4. June 1999: Brother’s Keeper (PtL ep. 73)
– Nick’s deceased brother tries to escape from Hell; however, the ‘soul-chaser’ is determined to take him back there.

11. June 1999: Initiation (PtL ep. 74)
– Kat’s new friend, Miranda, may have ulterior motives when convincing Kat to hone her witchcraft abilities to gain control of her magical powers.
Crossover reference: Miranda/Cherubim actually wants to win Kat for the Sabbat.

18. Jun 1999: Wishful Thinking (PtL ep. 75)
– Derek’s friend, Milo Jovits, releases a genie from her bottle. The genie uses the opportunity to seek revenge on her previous master who wouldn’t wish her free.

25. June 1999: Still Waters (PtL ep. 76)
– Years after he’s drowned, the restless spirit of a boy seeks to avenge his death.

30. June 1999: Unholy Congress, Part 1 of 2 (PtL ep. 77)
– An ancient Boston catacomb in unearthed, releasing a malevolent spirit that might threaten the Legacy.
– Father Callaghan returns.

6. August 1999: Sacrifice, Part 2 of 2 (PtL ep. 78)
– After leaving the Legacy, Kristin plans to help expose the murderous Benjamin Church, after the alliance between “Doctor” Church and Reed Horton causes Ethan’s death. She pays the ultimate price.

20. August 1999: She’s Got the Devil in Her Heart (PtL ep. 79)
– Nick’s former Navy buddy, Mike McCreedy, resurfaces with a strange woman who seems familiar to Nick, and exhibits an unnatural interest in him.
AU note: The thugs of “Wolfram & Hart” attack the lair of the preacher (the Malkavian Primogen of LA) and take the Scroll of Aberijan from his helpless Sire, poor, confused Brother Bernardus.

27. August 1999: Body and Soul (PtL ep. 80)
– Megan Torrace is killed in a car explosion. While they’re searching for her killer, Reed Horton turns Derek and Alex against each other.
Canon note: We learn that Derek has visited a psychiatrist, having doubts in his own leading abilities. Horton is sent back to Hell once more, and Alex shows what a strong, independent woman she is, in spite of everything she has gone through in the recent years.

Summer Break 1999
AU elements are in italics.
– Angel goes to LA, finds an apartment under that industrial building, buys his black convertible and starts helping people on his own.
– Wesley, fired by the Watchers’ Council, spends 3 weeks in Sunnydale Mercy Hospital. After declared healed, he buys a motorbike and starts working as a “rogue demon hunter”, since the Council wouldn’t even give him a flight ticket home.
– Cordelia goes to LA to become a famous movie star.
– In the Baltimore Conclave (7. August), Xavier de Calais announces the departure of Clan Gangrel from the Camarilla.
– Julian Luna – whose love affair with Caitlin has been over for more than 3 years – is worried about the growing power and greed of Cyrus, and sends Cash to LA to spy around a bit. Cash meets Carlyle, the leader of the Anarch force La Hermandad, and learns about Cameron’s extended undead family.
– Cash runs into Edward Blackfeather’s people who introduce him to his own grand-Sire, gypsy fortune teller Madame Zorza. (See: Forgotten Roots)
Note: Stevie Ray never told Cash anything about their bloodline; he learns all that’s there to learn about it in the above mentioned story.
– Father Frederick, the only exorcist in LA, gets killed by a very strong demon (we aren’t told which kind), during an exorcism. (Old Sister Maura tells Wesley and Angel in February 2000 that it happened “six months ago”).
– Salvador Garcia arranges for Sergeant Sánchez to be sent to Sunnydale in some officer exchange program. The Gangrel Anarch Bobby Lemon and his Childe, Tabitha Prester, accompany him as bodyguards.

Coming up: the timeline of the actual series

Pathways in the Dark - Timeline, Part 3

wiseheart — Wed, 21 Jul 2021 15:54:43 GMT

1997-98: PtL, SEASON 3
BtVS, SEASON 2

15. September 1997: When She Was Bad (BtVS ep. 13)
– The Anointed One kidnaps everyone who attended to the Master’s burial in order to revive him. Buffy saves them in the last second
Canon note: This is the first time when Buffy deliberately behaves like a b*tch.

22. September 1997: Some Assembly Required (BtVS ep. 14)
– That Frankenstein episode. Angel and Cordelia interact for the first time.
– Xander gets the chance to save Cordelia’s life by risking his own.
– Giles and Miss Calendar have their first date.

29. September 1997: School Hard (BtVS ep. 15)
– Spike arrives in town with Drusilla, in the hope that the powers of the Hellmouth will heal her. He meets Angel who tries to cheat him, but Spike notices immediately that Angel isn’t his old Sire (apparently, Angelus never called him Spike).
– The Anointed One plans a big showdown for St. Vigeous Night, but the impatient Spike ruins his plans. When the Anointed One tries to discipline him, he kills the annoying little monster with casual ease.
Canon note: Spike calls Angel “Sire”, meaning that he considers the souled one his Maker. Later we learn that it was Drusilla who did the actual killing.
AU note: In my interpretation Dru lost interest right after the killing and left him for Dead. Angelus gave him his Vitae and thus made him his own Childe.

6. October 1977: Inca Mummy Girl (BtVS ep. 16)
– An accidentally reawakened Inca princess falls in love with Xander while sucking life energy off other people.

13. October 1977: Reptile Boy (BtVS ep. 17)
– Buffy and Cordelia nearly get sacrificed to a demon by its worshippers from a frat house. Willow gets Angel into asking Buffy out.
Canon note: This is the first time that wealth and success are attached to demon worshipping – not the last one, though.

27. October 1977: Halloween (BtVS ep. 18)
– First appearance of Ethan Rayne, Giles’s old friend. He transforms all people into the persons they play at Halloween.
– Spike watches Buffy and decides to attack her at Halloween, due to one of Dru’s visions, but Giles breaks the spell just in time and defeats Spike.
Canon note: Apparently, the evil rests at Halloween; we don’t get any explanation why.
AU note: Ethan is Derek Rayne’s older half-brother in the “Pathways”-verse.

3. November 1997: Lie To Me (BtVS ep. 19)
– Billy Fordham, an old school friend of LA, sells Buffy to Spike, in exchange for being turned (he’s terminally ill an doesn’t want a slow and painful death.)
– Angel tells Buffy Drusilla’s story; they save a group of Goth kids from being massacred.
Canon note: Joan/Chanterelle will return in Season 3 as well as in AtS.

10. November 1997: The Dark Age (BtVs ep. 20)
– Ethan returns and the dark past of Giles is revealed.
Canon note: Eyghon, whom Ethan, Giles and their friends had summoned up, is an Etrusk demon.
AU note: This won’t work in the “Pathways”-verse, as I don’t consider the Beast an individual entity. I follow the Kindred canon, in which the Beast is the personified vampire blood lust.

17-24. November 1997: What’s My Line, Parts 1-2 (BtVS eps 21-22)
– Spike hires the Order of Taraka (highly trained assassins) to get rid of Buffy, so he and his undead scholar, Dalton, could work on healing Drusilla.
– Kendra, the new Slayer comes to Sunnydale and captures Angel. Willie, the demon bar owner frees him, only to sell him to Spike who needs his blood for a Sire-Childe ritual that has to be performed under a new moon (on the following night) in an abandoned church.
– While the Schoobies are battling the Order of Taraka and seeking out for Spike’s whereabouts, Angel is tortured by Drusilla. They save him in the last moment. The church collapses in fire and Spike is gravely wounded, but Dru is healed again.
Canon note: It’s firmly established that Sireblood has almost unlimited healing properties. There’s no need to kill the Sire in the process, though.

8. December 1997: Ted (BtVS ep. 23)
– Buffy’s mother manages to get an evil robot as a boyfriend (and just how stupid and lame is that?)
– Giles and Miss Calendar have relationship issues, due to the Eyghon crisis.
Canon note: Cordelia and Xander have started an unexpected affair during the Taraka disaster.

12. January 1998: Bad Eggs (BtVS ep. 24)
– A pair of undead brothers (Lyle and Tector Gorch) and a demon in the Hellmouth that tries to control people through its offspring interfere with the blossoming love between Buffy and Angel.
Canon note: The amoeba-shaped demon is called a Bezoar. We learn that vampires can’t procreate like humans and that Buffy doesn’t care. She wants Angel, no matter what.

2-19. January 1998: Surprise/Innocence (BtVs eps 25-26)
– Dru and Spike are back. They try to raise an invictible demon called The Judge.
– Miss Calendar’s uncle, Enyos, warns her that Angel’s curse must not be broken.
– But it’s too late; on Buffy’s 17th birthday they sleep together. Angel turns back into Angelus, joins his Childer and raises the Judge.
– Xander breaks into a military warehouse and steals weapons. Buffy blows The Judge to pieces. Oz confesses Willow his interest.
AU note: At this point I decided to make Janna/Miss Calendar different. Since she was the one responsible for maintaining Angel’s curse, IMO she had to be something more than a simply gypsy. So, in the “Pathways”-verse she actually is a Blood-Childe of the Ravnos, the vampire relatives and protectors of the Kalderash, and her Uncle Enyos is, in fact, a Ravnos vampire who’s fed her his Vitae all the time. His corpse being still intact when found only means that he wasn’t fully dead yet, only dying. He didn’t reveal this fact because he had to keep up his disguise for Janna’s sake. Janna had been Claimed but not Embraced by Enyos, for the explicit purpose of keeping Angel in the dark about her true nature.

23. January 1998: Darkness Falls, Part 1 of 2(PtL ep. 44)
– A reunion in New Orleans is an initiation for Alex when a former college friend seductively bites her neck; she begins a transformation that can only be completed when Alex commits her first murder.
– She begins craving Nick in a way she never would have originally imagined, and it’s up to the rest of the Legacy team to save her as well as Nick’s life.
Canon note: Alex already displays vampiric traits like sensitivity to sunlight, blood lust, etc. Vampires know an alchemic potion that makes them able to resist sunlight, at least for a while, and get a reflection. Since Philippe & Co otherwise don’t have one, plus they are able to turn into bats, within VtM settings they would be Lasombra or Tzimisce.

27. January 1998: Phases (BtVS ep 27)
– The Oz-as-werewolf episode.
– Xander gets to kill a vampire, newly turned by Angelus.
– The Scoobies save Oz/wolf from a greedy werewolf hunter.
AU note: Since Oz had been bitten by his cousin Geordi as a child (this is a canon fact), it’s safe to assume that the lupine nature lays in his family, as werewolves are born as such and not turned like vampires. I made Oz a member of the Garou tribe Fianna because they are artists and warriors and of Celtic descent. He doesn’t know this yet, though.

30. January 1998: Light of the Day, Part 2 of 2 (PtL ep. 45)
– The Legacy team continues with their struggle to save Nick from Alex and Alex from becoming a vampire. But the evil forces are already working double time, trying to convince Alex to kill Nick in order to complete her vampirical transformation. The Legacy’s only hope is to find a sliver of Alex’s soul that has not ventured over to the Dark Side yet.
Canon note: First appearance of Philippe’s Sire, Marcus. Vampiric Dominance is mentioned. Rachel can’t fully analyze the alchemic potion of the vampires, several parts of it are not identifiable.
AU note: The fact that the members of Philippe’s pack hang upside down from the cave ceiling in bat form points to a particularly vicious Sabbat pack.

6. February 1998: Enlightened One (PtL ep. 46)
– A shadowy and dangerous cult of youths is suspected in a string of arson attacks on churches. A member of the Boston Legacy house, Kristin Adams, searches for her teenage brother who’s been abducted by the cult.
Canon note: It’s a satanic cult, worshipping Lucifer, lead by a demon.

10. February 1998: Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered (BtVS ep. 28)
– Amy is back! Xander wants a spell to secure Cordelia’s love, but it backfires, of course, making every woman except Cordy want Xander – including Drusilla who, in fact, saves Xander from being eaten by Angelus.)
Canon note: Amy followed the path of her mother but at least she’s a benevolent witch… more or less. The rat spell is seen for the first time.

16. February 1998: Stolen Hearts (PtL ep. 47)
– A handsome stranger who had sold his soul to a banshee for wealth and power seduces Rachel, while Kat is attacked by evil forces: the banshee wants her powers.
– Meanwhile, the others are investigating some artefacts from the over 400 years previously lost ship, the Alva Maria, which carried one Joseph Dellacoste: the first Legacy Precept to the New World. Nick is in Singapore.
– We learn that the SF Legacy House was built at the end of the 19th century and has withstood earthquakes, storms and fires.
Canon note: Alex recognizes the silver bracelets David is wearing: a prince in Venice wore a pair like them, back in 1300, after selling his soul. The Dark Side controls the wearer through them. Just like in the pilot, Rachel jumps in bed with an almost-stranger, not listening to Kat, not caring for the circumstances. Why are they keeping her in the team is hard to understand… unless it’s for Kat’s sake.

20. February 1998: Father to Son (PtL ep. 48)
– Nick is angered when the ghost of his abusive father asks for help to defeat his killer, in order to be freed from spiritual limbo.
Canon note: Nick’s father was called Jonathan in Season 1; now he’s called Robert. Perhaps that’s his middle name?

24. February 1998: Passions (BtVS ep. 29)
– Miss Calendar seeks for a way to re-curse Angel but the vampire kills her.
– Angelus keeps harassing Buffy and her friends – he makes Joyce know that he’s slept with Buffy.
– Spike starts turning against Angelus who’s taken Drusilla from him.
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse Angelus doesn’t kill Jenny Calendar simply to hurt Buffy and Giles but because he’s realized who – and what – she is. Killing Enyos and his Blood Childe is Angelus’s vengeance for the Ravnos curse.

27. February 1998: Fallen Angel (PtL ep. 49)
– The Legacy team faces pure evil when they try to rescue an “angel” who has returned to earth to save her lover’s soul.
AU note: This absolutely ridiculous episode is not part of the “Pathways”-verse! I only keep the part about Alex’s past when she explains who she moved in with her great love at the age of 18 and was forced to leave because the man tried to make her dependant. She’s had other unlucky relationships, too, the poor woman.

3. March 1998: Killed by Death (BtVs ep. 30)
– That really stupid “Kindestod” episode.
Only bonuses: We learn why Buffy hates hospitals (she saw her cousin die in one as a child, killed by the Kindestod demon), and Xander’s confrontation with Angelus.

6. March 1998: Dream Lover (PtL ep. 50)
– Derek receives a mysterious package filled with the shards of an ancient urn, which one housed a spirit – a Lamia – that was freed by now dying Legacy member Samuel Kellig.
– Kellig’s fiancée, Jessica – so beautiful, powerful and seductive that no man can resist her, not even Derek – comes to San Francisco. After a passionate night together Derek returns home, weakened by the experience.
– Alex and Kristin discover Jessica’s true identity, and they break the spell, trapping the Lamia in its snake form in an enchanted box. The true Jessica Lancy is free and turns back to her usual, mousey appearance.

13. March 1998: Debt of Honour (PtL ep. 51)
– Nick runs into a high school friend at the funeral of an old buddy of theirs. Shortly after the funeral the dead man’s malevolent and vengeful ghost pays a visit to Griffith, who seeks out Nick’s help.
– With Kristin’s help Nick manages to figure out why Fratello seeks to destroy his old friends: during Operation Desert Storm they sold weapons on the black market, which left him defenceless by an unexpected attack.

20. March 1998: The Light (PtL ep. 52)
– A grieving woman seeks revenge for her granddaughter’s murder on a powerful American family by putting an Incan curse on them – releasing a demon. Rachel, being a friend of that family, tries to protect the remaining family members.
Canon note: By the name of Xiuteuchtli the demon is more likely an Aztec one, although Alex’s archaeologist friend calls it Toltec. Interestingly, Toltec witches are called “Brujah” – can there be a connection to the similarly-named vampire clan?

10. April 1998: Hell Hath No Fury (PtL ep. 53)
– A mysterious hit man brands criminals with an ancient sceptre that summons three furies from Hell to administer justice. It turns out to be Frank Carmac, the cop friend of the Legacy, who finally falls victim to his own harsh sense of justice.

17. April 1998: Irish Jug (PtL ep. 54)
– The souls of two 18th century Irish rogues escape from a jug and assume the identities of Derek and his friend, Milo Jovits.
Canon note: Margaret Keane, who trapped the rogues in the jug and built Keane Manor in 1787, was considered the white witch of Ulster. She was the grandmother of Hanney Ellen Keane, who bequeathed all of her accumulate art and artefacts – including her journals – to the Luna Foundation, so they could be catalogued and displayed in museums… or disposed of, according to her detailed instructions. The collection from Keane Manor is one of the largest collections of private antiquities in the world.
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse, Hanney Ellen Keane was the older sister of Tara Maclay’s maternal grandmother. There’s where in-born witchcraft comes into the family. Against PtL canon, I presume that Milo only lightly damaged some of the artefacts. In Hanney’s will, Tara is named as the only heir, and the collection gets put away in LA until she reaches the age of 21. Still, Alex spends considerable time cataloguing it – in fact, that is the work she’s doing while living at the Hyperion until the LA Legacy House gets established… and afterwards.

24. April 1998: Metamorphosis (PtL ep. 55)
– A psychiatric patient stabs Rachel with a dagger, infecting her with a disease that compels her to kill.
– Meanwhile, Kristin runs some tests on Alex’s abilities. We learn that her Sight isn’t ESP; it’s triggered by touching something and is more prescient when she’s emotionally charged. Kristin seeks out Alex’s help to find out what happened to her father.

28. April 1998: I Only Have Eyes For You (BtVS ep. 31)
– Angelus and Buffy, possessed by the ghosts of a tragedy from 1955, break the curse of the poor ghosts.
– Spike is fully healed and planning to bring Angelus down.
Canon note: The ritual Giles performs is called “Mangus Tripod”.

5. May 1998: Go Fish (BtVS ep. 32)
– The usual monster-of-the-week show with an all-too-obvious warning against taking steroids and other similar stuff. The only interesting point being that Angelus can’t drink the blood of the infested boys. Unfortunately, we never get an explanation for that – after all, Angel was living on animal blood, at least partially.

12-19. May 1998: Becoming, Parts 1-2 (BtVS eps 33-34)
– A-story: the Becoming of Angelus
– B-story: Dru and Angelus plan to rise Acathla and such the world to Hell.
– C-story: the Becoming of Drusilla and her killing Kendra.
– D-story: Willow finds the Ravnos curse and re-curses Angel.
– E-story: Spike’s plot against his old Sire in exchange for Dru’s life.
– F-story: How Angel was sent by Whistler to watch over Buffy.
AU note: All these storylines come together to a grandiose finale. Dru shows an uncanny ability for Domination and Angelus’s goal to suck the world to Hell is motivated by the Antediluvian Cult the Order of Aurelius has been absolutely dedicated to since the fall of Ancient Carthage. Angelus believes that he’s the rightful Master of the Order now, the Eldest of the only still existing bloodline, and Dru is equally dedicated to the whole thing. Spike, on the other hand, remains an Anarch. Neither of them knows that Nahir, one of the Order’s founders, is still around.
About Angelus’s blood being the only thing that could close the hellgate, there need to be more Sabbat references, eventually. It’s a common belief among fanfic writers, however, that his blood would have been enough, without having him sent to Hell for the equivalent of 500 years.

29. May 1998: La Belle Dame Sans Mercy (PtL ep. 56)
– Alex relives the fate of one of her ancestors, a freed slave in 19th century Louisiana.
Canon note: We get some fascinating insight into Alex’s family history, seemingly dominated exclusively by women (no male ancestor is even referred to), starting with Grandma Rose’s grandmother, Madame Marie Delarue. Rose herself is quite the witch – or possibly a voodoo priestess,

26. June 1998: The Prodigy (PtL ep. 57)
– Kristin is reunited with her long-lost love: a world-famous concert pianist, who seems mysteriously controlled by his agent (some sort of parasitic demon).

3. July 1998: Human Vessel (PtL ep. 58)
– A bolt of lightning changes an autistic man into a genius. However, this “gift” of nature becomes a menace and danger to everyone around him.
Canon note: The lightning bolt was actually directed by Tommy’s dead sister who wants Alex’s powers to come back to life.

10. July 1998: The Covenant (PtL ep. 59)
– Sister Ingrid Rayne begins to investigate the eerie and peculiar suicide/murder of a convent novice.
– We learn that Nick used to have a 7 years older brother, Jimmy, who died in a car accident at the age of 37. He left home at 17, when Nick was 10. He and Nick never spoke again.
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse, young Sister Anne Thompson doesn’t die from the blow to her head but falls into a coma. She is brought to a special clinic in LA and Ingrid, who’s a nurse practitioner in my settings, leaves the convent to stay with her and take care with her. Sister Anne wakes up from her coma about the same time Philip Callaghan comes to LA. Somewhat later both she and Ingrid join Sister Grace’s new Coptic convent.

17. July 1998. The Internment (PtL ep. 60)
– Derek and Nick have to save Kristin and Rachel who are trapped in a ghost town, which is due to evaporate at dawn.

24. July 1998: Seduction (PtL ep. 61)
– Alex, Kristin and Rachel come under the spell of the mesmerising Nicholas Oldman – an immortal, evil being intent on gaining the power of Boh Jing.

31. July 1998: Out of Sight (PtL ep. 62)
– Jeffrey Starr is back – chased by a vengeful spirit determined to put him out of business.
AU note: About a year after this incident Jeffrey Starr changes his mind and goes into psychic training, provided by Legacy experts. He’s going to replace Alex in the newly rebuilt SF House some time in 2001.

7. August 1998: The Last Good Knight (PtL ep. 63)
– Part of the ongoing storyline of Kristin trying to fin out what happened to her father.
– An ancient map offers a vital clue to his whereabouts, but it leads her directly to Istanbul – and into danger. (Geez, they find the Holy Grail, only to lose it again… eeeek!)

14. August 1998: Armies of Night (PtL ep. 64)
– The SF House is under siege by an army of unknown assailants. Alex disappears after leaving to find help, Nick is taken captive and Derek is left to fight alone.
– Marcus, the vampire shows up, determined not to let Alex escape a second time.
Canon note: Alex’s vampiric abilities – blood lust, Dominance, etc. – resurface from time to time.

21. August 1998: Darkside (PtL ep. 65)
– An ancient, evil force – in the form of an old woman – seduces Alex to join the Dark Side by reflecting on the events that happened to the SF House in the last 3 years.
Canon note: Philip Callaghan was given much importance in this speech, probably because he’s a priest.
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse Alex discusses these events with Philip in great detail after the destruction of the SF House and Derek’s presumed death, which leads to Philip sending her to LA and Angel.

Summer Break 1998
– Buffy is on the run, working in a small diner under the name of “Anne”.
– The Scoobies remain in Sunnydale, even Cordelia, trying to replace the Slayer.
– Angel is in Hell.
– We don’t know for certain how Alex got to Mrs. Darkside and how long she was there.
– At the same time when the SF House is under siege, the Benedictine cell of Sister Grace is wiped out by a particularly vicious Sabbat/demon (I haven’t decided yet) attack. She is one of the two survivors because she wasn’t home at the time of the attack, having attended a Legacy meeting in Cairo (she’s the chief demonologist of the Legacy). The other one is old Sister Maura (the old nun from “I’ve Got You Under My Skin”), who was working at Father Frederick’s church as the sacristan.
– Sister Grace realizes that the Legacy is powerless against some of the evil forces and converts to the Coptic Church in order to be able to join the Holy Order of Anchorites, where some of the powerful old rituals are still known and practiced. She will return to LA and establish her own small Anchorite convent eventually, starting with 3 other members: old Sister Maura, Ingrid Rayne and young Sister Anne Thompson. More nuns will join them along the way.

Pathways in the Dark - Timeline, Part 2

wiseheart — Tue, 20 Jul 2021 17:59:24 GMT

1996-97: PTL, SEASON 2
BUFFY, THE VAMPIRE SLAYER [BTVS], SEASON 1

Late January 1997: Skull (unaired KtE episode)
– A strange skull is found on the plains of Ethiopia. This skull is different from any others ever found, especially the long incisors, which look like fangs. It is found alongside a pile of humanoid bodies, which have been tossed into the corner of a cave. The bones show marking from sharp incisors, as if the humanoids had been eaten.
– The scientists believe they have found one of the missing links in the evolution of man from ape. It is a missing link, but not between man and ape – it’s the missing link between man and Kindred. The Skull is the earliest Nosferatu, and it has enormous powers. Just by touching it, each of the Kindred revert to the savageness of their beginnings as they were on the plains of Africa, hunting humans at night.
Canon note: This episode was intended to be produced for the second season of the series, in an attempt to explore the mythology of how the Kindred evolved. The series got cancelled after only one season, though, due to the unfortunate death of lead actor Mark Frankel in a motorbike accident.
Adapted to VtM canon it could have been the skull of the powerful and vicious Antediluvian of the “Hajj” Nosferatu, who don’t even consider themselves related to the “average” Nosferatu, the descendents of Absimillard and Nictucu. Nowadays these Kindred see themselves as Allah’s Chosen and the defenders of Mecca. (I kid you not! It is canon!)
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse, the Skull has found its way from the digging to the UCLA labs, as one of the sponsors was Sir Ralph Hamilton, a rich and respected Brujah and Sire of Professor Gregory Haberson, a history professor of the university. Once there, it has been thoroughly examined by several Kindred scientists, including such famous experts as Beckett and his adoptive Sire, Aristotle DeLaurent, and its real identity has been discovered. After that, the Skull seemingly suffered an unfortunate accident and was destroyed. In truth, it lays under strict supervision in the most secure vault under the LA Tremere Chantry.

2. March 1997: New Guard (PtL ep. 22)
– The San Francisco Legacy House tracks down their missing Precept who has not returned from a mission and are introduced to the new London House Precept, William Sloan.
– Derek shoots himself and ends up at Rose Mercy General Hospital, where a certain Dr. Alcott infests patients and visitors with an evil force.

9. March 1997: Black Widow (PtL ep. 23)
– A very ravenous succubus falls head over heals for Nick.

10. March 1997: Welcome to the Hellmouth/The Harvest (BtVS 2-hour pilot episode)
– Introduction of all main characters, including the evil ones.
– The end of the world is mentioned for the first time, and we learn that vampires have their own religion and beliefs.
– We learn about the Harvest and the possible return of the Old Ones.
AU note: In the “Pathways”-verse the Order of Aurelius, having turned to the Dark Side after the destruction of Ancient Carthague, is currently a particularly vicious Sabbat pack. The Old Ones are the Antediluvians, whom the Order wants to wake up from their torpor and bring back to the earth.

14. March 1997: Lights Out (PtL ep. 24)
– Wicked Scottish “faeries” infest the San Francisco House, sent by an enemy of Sloan.
Canon note: By going through the contains of the package, Derek and Sloan detect that all items are connected to Legacy members who died a mysterious death.

17. March 1997: The Witch (BtVS ep. 03)
– Introduction of Amy Madison and her evil witch mother, Catherine the Great.
Canon note: The curse Catherine tries to kill Buffy with is vengeance magic, using a bloodstone. In Season 5 Anya chides Giles for selling a bloodstone to Glory.
AU note: Catherine used to be part of the Hampton Witch Coven (see PtL ep. 16: Revelations).

21. March 1997: Spirit Thief (PtL ep. 25)
– Alex’s sister arrives in town with a shaman for a boyfriend. We learn that Alex and Tanya are from Bayou and had been raised by their grandmother, Rose. Also, Alex turns out to have an excellent sense for fine arts.
Canon note: Bakongo healing is done with the aid of the spirits of the dead that the shaman holds captive in a Nkisi cauldron. Tanya is Alex’s older sister. Her entire family has the gift of the Sight, but it’s the most potent in Alex.

22. March 1997: Teacher’s Pet (BtVS ep. 04)
– The infamous She-Mantis episode. We learn that Xander is a virgin. He also reacts very jealous to Buffy’s interaction with Angel.
Canon note: Apparently, vampires are afraid of She-Mantises. Buffy uses something she’s learned at school for the first time.

28. March 1997: The Gift (PtL ep. 26)
– Kat’s deceased brother makes a special visit for Christmas and gets his living sister in trouble. Derek kisses Rachel, Kat reacts jealously.
Personal note: Rachel behaves unbelievably stupidly towards Derek; no wonder they never got together after this episode.

31. March 1997: Never Kill a Boy on the First Date (BtVS ep. 05)
– The awakening of the Anointed One.
– Buffy’s unlikely romance with Owen Thurman (she makes a complete fool of herself; but so does Cordelia, too).
– The Three (a group of formidable vampire warriors that have belonged to the Order of Aurelius for centuries) fail to kill Buffy, due to Angel’s intervention. The Master sentences them to death and Darla executes them.
Canon note: Again, we learn something about vampire beliefs; and first things from Giles’s past.
AU note: Merged with certain VtM characters, the “Pathways”-verse Three were 8th generation Nosferatu Ancillae (Embraced in the 11th century), progeny of Malachite. They had a mental link between them.

4. April 1997: Transference (PtL ep. 27)
– Rachel’s former patient stalks her from the grave… except that he’s not really dead at all. He came back, obsessed with Rachel.
Canon note: Romero uses a pre-Celtic ritual to get back from the death. As usual Rachel gets herself into deep sh*t out of sheer stupidity, and others have to pay the price.

7. April 1997: The Pack (BtVS ep. 06)
– Xander gets possessed by the spirit of hyenas, together with four other kids.
– Principal Flutie gets eaten by the possessed kids.
Canon note: Once again, an African ritual is blamed for the crimes. So very not original!

11. April 1997: Dark Angel (PtL ep. 28)
– Nick tries to help a mentally imbalanced young woman to come free from a demon who holds her in the form of her psychiatrist, Dr. Praetorius. But Emma isn’t ready to take responsibility for her sins, and until that she can’t be helped.

14. April 1997: Angel (BtVS ep. 07)
– Angel’s true nature is revealed; he stakes Darla to save Buffy.
– We learn about his horrible deeds and (for the first time) about his curse.
Canon note: At first he’s ready to fight Buffy, so he can’t completely hate his undead existence.
AU note: Contrary to Joss Whedon’s concept, I accept the fact established by several fanfic writers that one can not lose one’s soul and continue to exist. Not even as a vampire. Also, in the “Pathways”-verse it were the Ravnos (an independent vampire clan with close ties to the gypsies) who taught the Kalderash the curse and wanted Angel to lose control over his Beast again, should he experience a single moment of happiness.

18. April 1997: Lives in the Balance (PtL ep. 29)
– A demon impersonates Derek’s long-dead illegitimate son (whom he didn’t even know to exist), in order to take the Legacy down from the inside.
Canon note: This is the second appearance of Sister Ingrid Rayne – who, by the way, notices that there’s something wrong with Lucas right away.

19. April 1997: Rough Beast (PtL ep. 30)
– The werewolf episode; somewhat confusing, since it’s first the father who’s a Lupine and gets killed in self-defence by the mother. Then it’s Tracy (the daughter), and after her death, suddenly the mother is one, too.
– On a different plotline, while investigating a Singapore problem, Nick tells Alex about his really hard childhood.
Canon note: We get some insight into werewolf legends and learn that Lycans were driven out of Rome and relocated to Albania.
AU note: This is the actual family of Veruca, Oz’s Lupine girlfriend, whose real name is therefore Veruca Lasker.

28. April 1997: I Robot You Jane (BtVS ep. 08)
– Introduction of Jenny Calendar and the concept of “techno-pagans”.
– Moloch, the demon, banned into a book by Italian monks in 1428, accidentally gets scanned into the computer by Willow and wants her as his mate.

2. May 1997: Ransom (PtL ep. 31)
– Sister Ingrid Rayne is kidnapped by Angeline D’Arcy, the Precept of the Montréal House, which turned entirely to the Dark Side. The rogues demand the Blood Chalice (an Aztec artefact) to rejuvenate themselves.
– First appearance of Barbara Rayne, Derek’s mother.
Canon note: Angeline wears the same last name – D’Arcy – as Alex’s vampire lover; could there be a connection?
AU note: Ingrid gets touched by darkness many times, which might motivate her to join Sister Grace’s Coptic convent later on.

5. May 1997: The Puppet Show (BtVS ep 09)
– The stupid school festival with the demon-hunter-turned-puppet.
– First appearance of Principal Snyder.
Canon note: In the 1930s the Slayer was a Korean girl. The Brethren of Seven are actually seven demons that have to kill people and eat their brains and hearts in order to keep their human disguise every seven years.

9 May 1997: Finding Richter (PtL ep. 32)
– Nick’s commanding officer is still alive and wants him back for his spider cult. Richter leads a crusade against organized religion by killing religious leaders.

12. May 1997: Nightmares (BtVS ep. 10)
– Through a comatose boy everyone relives their worst nightmares.

19. May 1997: Out of Mind, Out of Sight/Invisible Girl (BtVS ep. 11)
– The story of Marie Ross who became invisible because of the sheer ignorance of the people around her.
– Angel and Giles start working together. The vampire gets for the Watcher the Pergamum Codex (with important prophecies about the Slayer) that had been considered lost since the 15th century.
– This is the point where Cordelia begins changing (even though she does get May Queen).

23. May 1997: Repentance (PtL ep 33)
– Philip Callaghan refuses to give the absolution to a criminal who doesn’t show any regret. The guy, in exchange, comes back from death and starts killing people in order to force him into forgiving.
Canon note: It was Philip who turned Ravenwood in to the authorities, against the Church rules, by breaking his vow.

30. May 1997: The Devil’s Lighthouse (PtL ep. 34)
– Alex gets sucked into the light of a haunted lighthouse. In order to save her, Nick reconnects with an old SEAL-buddy of his.

2. June 1997: Prophecy Girl (BtVS ep. 12)
– Angel and Giles learn from the Pergamum Codex that the Master will kill Buffy.
– An earthquake signals the beginning of grave events. The vampires start massacring people at school.
– The Master kills Buffy and comes free, but Xander revives her and she kills the Master.
– Meanwhile the Hellmouth opens under the school library and a tentacled demon sticks out its three heads.

13. June 1997: Lullaby (PtL ep. 35)
– Kat and her friends play with an Ouija board and accidentally summon up a troubled spirit who’s desperately looking for her daughter whom she had lost some 70 years ago.

20. June 1997: Silent Partner (PtL ep. 36)
– A deaf childhood friend of Nick’s gets possessed by the vengeful spirit of a murdered woman. Laura is a medium, who needs to contact her spirit guide to talk to the dead.
Canon note: While possessed, she has normal hearing and speech.

27. June 1997: Shadow Fall (PtL ep. 37)
– The protective spirit of a Native American youth (not being sent away at the necessary time) overgrows his protégée and starts seriously hurt people.

4. July 1997: Mind’s Eye (PtL ep. 38)
– Jeffrey Starr, a con-artist and fake “psychic” is shocked when his psychic powers are really awakening.
AU note: Jeffrey Starr will eventually replace Alex in the rebuilt San Francisco Legacy House.

18. July 1997: Fear (PtL ep. 39)
– Rachel helps a friend investigate a rash of deaths at a mental ward. She goes in as a patient and gets the poor woman promptly killed. Dr. Peyton gets his patients into frightening hallucinations that kill them… he’s a demon, after all.
Canon note: Rachel might have been abused by her father.

25. July 1997: Someone to Watch Over Me (PtL ep. 40)
– An old college friend of Derek and Sloan dies. They help console his widow and find out that Spencer Croft was fixated on the subject of necrology. He built a reflecting pond in their garden as a supernatural gate to the underworld to save his wife, Serena, who was diagnosed with ALS.
Canon note: the Montréal House is being reconstructed.

3. August 1997: Let Sleeping Demons Lie (PtL ep. 41)
– Sloan’s plane crashes in the snowy mountains while transporting all the crated remnants of Baron DeRais – a French nobleman who helped put a king on the throne of France and rode alongside Jeanne D’Arc and commanded her armies. He was also accused of sorcery and tortured – with the heavy involvement of the Legacy.
– Due to the crash, DeRais’s spirit escapes and wants to get revenge on Sloan, the representative of the Legacy… at least in his head, or was it probably true?
Canon note: It’s sobering that like all overzealous witch hunters, the Legacy, too, participated in torturing and killing innocents.
AU note: DeRais’s real name was Gilles DeLavelle – could Xander, with his unusual middle name LaVelle, be one of his descendants?

10. August 1997: Trapped (PtL ep. 42)
– Derek, reading his father’s journals, becomes worried about the safety of the sepulchres and checks if the seals are still intact.
– A lightning bolt strikes the House. The sepulchres start glowing. Christina leaves a warning on the walls; we learn that she’s a ghost and visits Sloan, too.
– Winston Rayne’s spirit takes over Derek’s body. Sloan offers himself to be possessed; then he opens the sepulchres and lets himself be sucked in.
Canon note: Sloan didn’t know a lot about Derek’s activities, including the fact that they had all five sepulchres in the House. Derek, in turn, didn’t know what the sepulchres are capable of, at least not fully; he didn’t know that his father had been in league with the forces of darkness, either.

17. August 1997: The Choice (PtL ep. 43)
– Rachel, trying to protect Kat, tries to make up her mind whether to leave or stay with the Legacy.
Canon note: Rachel is stupid, boarding hysterical. The episode clearly shows how much more of a mature person Alex is.

Summer break 1997
– Buffy spends the summer break with her father.
– Xander and Willow stay in Sunnydale, attending to the burial of the Master’s remains, with Giles, Cordelia and Miss Calendar – why didn’t the old goat turn into dust at the first time anyway?
– The Anointed One collects a new army of vampires around himself, including the enigmatic Absolom.
– We don’t know what Angel was doing during summer break.

Pathways in the Dark - Timeline, Part 1

wiseheart — Mon, 19 Jul 2021 17:52:48 GMT

PATHWAYS IN THE DARK - TIMELINE
BY SOLEDAD

NOTES:
1. This series happens in an alternate universe where the characters of Angel, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Forever Knight, Kindred – the Embraced and Poltergeist – The Legacy co-exist. Aside from the characters from other (mostly vampire-themed) shows that have their cameos.
2. The emphasis is on the characters of Angel – the Series and on a few of the supporting characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. There are only two important human OCs in the whole series, conceived after real-life people: Sister Grace and Lars DeBoer, the owner of an occult book shop in L.A. Most of the Kindred are taken from the White Wolf Online Genealogies of their respective Clans. I invented a few of them on my own, however, and gave the WW-characters a visualisation through selecting actors/actresses who 'play' them.
3. The events follow rather meticulously the canon of P-tL, AtS and BtVS, up until "Dead End" from Angel. After that, they take an alternate turn, because I find the whole Pylea-storyline too silly to work with. Jossverse canon generally has left the house after that.
4. As for the Buffy canon, I kept the threat Glory provided, but bound it strongly to the Legacy. In my opinion to defeat such a superior foe, one needs help from an old – and experienced – organization, and the Watchers' Council is obviously not good for any sufficient action.
5. Also, I decided to prolong Angel's Shanshu for about a century or so, because I wanted to make him the ruler of L.A.'s undead society. I found great fun in turning a lot of the supporting characters into vampires, but the Kindred sort of them, so no blood bath can be expected from our old buddies.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
1995-96: Poltergeist: The Legacy [PTL], season 1
Kindred - The Embraced (whole series)

1995
– Cyrus (aka Russell Davies from AtS) lays the groundwork for the Brujah to take over LA by muscle, with him becoming the Prince. Eddie Fiori (the Brujah Primogen of San Francisco) helps with the takeover,
– Julian Luna forms an “agreement” with Cyrus for the latter to stay out of San Francisco.
– Lillie discovers Zane. They become lovers. Zane and Cash reunite.
– Buffy is Chosen (events of the original movie).
– Patrick and Connor Corrigan (Rachel’s husband and son) die.

1996
– Eddie Fiori muscles his way into record companies belonging to the Toreador. This is part of an ongoing campaign by the San Francisco Brujah to move on the other Clans.

21. April 1996: The Fifth Sepulcher (PtL pilot double episode)
– Julia Walker is killed, Rachel Corrigan joint the Legacy.

3. May 1996: Town Without Pity (PtL ep. 03)
– Rachel and Nick investigate a religious colony stuck in time.

10. May 1996: The Tenement (PtL ep. 04)
– Alex put a slumlord into his own dilapidated building, haunted by an evil female spirit (Mistress of the Endless Night), whom his great-grandfather sold his soul (and that of his male progeny) in return for wealth and power.

17 May 1996: The Twelfth Cave (PtL ep. 05)
– An old friend and Legacy member, Randolph Hitchcock, brings Derek an ancient Dead Sea scroll from the 12th cave; made of human skin and written with human blood (which is moving under the microscope), in 11,000 BC. It is Caine’s confession, that curses with madness and death whoever possesses it. Hitchcock gives it to Derek because he never forgave him the death of their shared love interest, one Alicia Summers.
AU note: The scroll will eventually come to the LA Tremere Chantry; Alicia Summers is related to Buffy.

24. May 1996: Man in the Mist (PtL ep. 06)
– Rachel helps the ghost of a long-dead sea captain to find his peace.

31. May 1996: Ghost on the Road (PtL ep. 07)
– Nick wants to help Wendy, a young woman, against the abusive ghost of her dead boyfriend.
– Meanwhile Derek and Rachel detect a statue and a manuscript of Salvador Reneau, a psychic who had gone from being obsessed with fighting evil to believing himself to be the messiah of evil.
Canon note: the Legacy House of Belgium turned to the Dark Side in 1853.

7. June 1996: Doppenganger (PtL ep. 08)
– The spirit of an ancient Egyptian princess tries to take over Kat’s body.
Canon note: The Cairo Legacy House is mentioned for the first time in this episode.

14. June 1996: The Substitute (PtL ep. 09)
– A group of not-so-popular teenage boys of the St. Athanasius Catholic School summon up The Warden for help. Unfortunately, they manage to raise up a real devil of a substitute teacher who was previously summoned up decades before.
– Philip finally realizes that his presence in the Legacy is truly necessary. However, he still feels the need to return to his parish for a while.

21. June 1996: Do Not Go Gently (PtL ep. 10)
– An old friend of Nick’s is taken to St. Alban’s Hospital, where patients are possessed in their dreams and dying. Dr. Slade, their doctor is sacrificing them to an Aztec demon.
Canon note: Lucien Breton, the head of the Paris Legacy House, dies in this episode. We learn that Alex – sent to him to Paris – speaks French fluently.

28. June 1996: Crystal Scarab (PtL ep. 11)
– Clayton Wallace, an old friend of Derek’s, seeks and gains possession of some ancient Egyptian scarab jewellery, which saves his terminally ill daughter – by sucking out life energy from other people.

12 July 1996: The Bell of Girardus (PtL ep. 12)
– The Bell of Girardus, made in 1412 by the goldsmith Girardus for the summoning of the dead, is stolen from the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities. Miranda Blake, the museum’s curator took it to revive her recently deceased lover.
Au note: in the “Pathways”-verse Miranda Blake is the aunt of Michael Blake, the warlock boy who almost got burned at the stake alongside Willow and Amy.

19. July 1996: Fox Spirit (PtL ep. 13)
– Sewer workers accidentally let loose a really angry spirit who has been imprisoned since the 1906 earthquake and now seeks out revenge.
Canon note: Derek gets involved with the granddaughter of his old friend, Lee Tzin-Soong, but this never gets mentioned again during the series.

26. July 1996: Thirteenth Generation (PtL ep. 14)
– The vengeful spirit of an innocently executed young woman kills any progeny of the preacher, Josiah Blood, unto the 13th generation for having her killed as a witch. Derek, lecturing in a Boston college, helps solving the mystery.
Canon note: We learn some details about Nick’s time as a Navy Seal.
AU note: This is the time from which he knows Graham Miller from BtVS.

2. August 1996: Dark Priest (PtL ep. 15)
– The medaillon of Levon Soltar, a known Satanist, sorcerer and leader of “The Church of the Black Man”, is stolen from the Winston Rayne Hall of Antiquities. It was Nick’s father, who killed him, and his two sons are now trying to resurrect him.

16. August 1996: Revelations (PtL ep. 16)
– Black witch magic is going on in Rachel’s former boarding school.
– Meanwhile Derek visits his sister, Ingrid, a nun, and they discuss their father and how Derek still can’t forgive him.
Canon note: This episode was about old-fashioned, fairytale-type witches, not Wiccans.
AU note: Amy Madison’s mother, Katherine, was a student here before moving to Sunnydale. Ingrid Rayne will later join Sister Grace's Coptic convent in LA.

23. August 1996: The Bones of St. Anthony (PtL ep. 17)
– A geneticist tries to clone the demon St. Anthony had defeated from the amulet of a Coptic nun who thinks it contains the bones of the saint itself.
AU note: The Holy Order of Anchorites is the oldest one on Earth. This is the same order Sister Grace joins, after her own Benedictine cell gets wiped out by the Sabbat/or by a demon attack.

30. August 1996: Inheritance (PtL ep. 18)
– Rachel becomes the sole beneficiary in a will after the death of her aunt – and learns about the dark past of her family: her aunt had been an infernalist and a necromancer.

1-20 September 1996 – Kindred: the Embraced pre-history
– The San Francisco Police Department begins an investigation into Eddie Fiori and Julian Luna who they believe are involved in a gang syndicate. Frank Kouhanek and Sonny Toussaint are assigned to the case. Julian has arranged for Sonny to go after Fiori and search for Stevie Ray.
– Frank meets Alexandra Serris and the two become lovers.
– Caitlin Byrne starts investigating Julian for an article about obscure businessmen. She learns that the Luna family used to live near Manzanita Springs.

6. September 1996: The Signalman (PtL ep 19)
– David Praeger, an old acquaintance of Alex, has to make up for the grave mistake one of his ancestors has made.
Canon note: The Codex of Avaristis is mentioned.

13. September 1996: The Reckoning (PtL ep. 20)
– Rachel’s dead grandfather (a black sorcerer, killed by Winston Rayne) returns to take revenge.
– Philip learns that his brother, Michael (a good, married Catholic with five children) died in an IRA car bombing in Manchester, Ireland, while helping an injured girl. Philip starts questioning his faith in God, asking why this happened.
Canon note: this is the first appearance of Christina, the 300year-old seer.

20. September 1966: Traitor Among Us (PtL ep 21)
– Derek fakes a report accusing himself of being evil and conspiring to bring down the San Francisco House – in order to reveal Charles Banyon, Precept of the New York House, as a vampire.
Canon note: Charles disintegrates into dust when stuck by the sun’s rays. The Precept of the Ruling House in London is Sir Edmund Tremain at his time.
AU note: Since, according to the VtM game, New York is a Sabbat-controlled city, I made Charles Banyon a Lasombra.

21-27. September 1996: The Embraced (KtE pilot episode)
– Stevie Ray is captured and killed by Brujah, Cash takes over both his jobs.
– Frank finds out what Alexandra is and asks to be Embraced, but she refuses.
– Lillie teams up with Fiori; they manage to get Alexandra killed.
– Frank gets investigated by Internal Affairs and shoots Julian but can’t kill him.
– Julian’s grandson dies, Sasha comes into the picture.
– The Haven gets renovation.

28. September-4. October 1996: Prince of the City (KtE ep. 02)
– Paulie Boyle, Vice-President of the Dock Worker’s Union, gets killed by Fiori and his henchman, Nino Donelly; Frank sees Fiori turn into a wolf.
– Sasha and Cash meet for the first time.
– After his first meeting with Caitlin, Julian decides to buy the San Francisco Times.
– Julian teams up with Frank to brink down Fiori and introduces him to Lillie.
– Starkweather gets Embraced by a Gangrel woman in the psychiatric hospital.

5-16. October 1996: Nightstalker (KtE ep. 03)
– Starkweather’s killing spree and his execution by Julian.
– Daedalus”s doomed romance with the human singer, Elaine
Canon note: We learn that he can change his appearance with the help of his alchemy, looking more human.

17-26. October 1996: Romeo and Juliet (KtE ep. 04)
– Sasha and Cash become lovers; Cash asks for permission to Embrace her, which Julian grants.
– However, Sasha is forcibly Embraced by Martin into Clan Brujah.
– Daedalus executes a Kindred doctor who preys on sick children. One of those children, Abel, can recognize Kindred, but Julian doesn’t allow Daedalus to Embrace him.
– Big confrontation between Julian and Eddie who refuses to accept the Prince’s law. Daedalus kills Martin.

26. October-7. November: Live Hard, Die Young and Leave a Good-Looking Corpse (KtE ep. 05)
– Zane Embraces Grace Dugan and leaves her. Lillie executes him.
– Eddie Fiori asks Cyrus to meet him in San Francisco and help him dispose of Julian Luna. Cyrus hires Marissa, an Assamite, to take care of the actual murder.

8-20. November 1996: The Rise and Fall of Eddie Fiori (KtE ep. 06)
– Lillie hires the PI Benning to watch Julian and Caitlin.
– Marissa, the Assamite, kills Billy, Julian’s driver; the introduction of new driver Lorraina.
– Eddie accidentally shoots the Assamite; Lillie kills Eddie to save herself, after having schemed with him and Cyrus.
– Fierce fighting begins among the Brujah to decide who’ll be their next Primgogen.

21-27. November 1996: Bad Moon Rising (KtE ep. 07)
– The Nosferatu Goth tries to raise power through a human sacrifice and to overpower Julian. He successfully splits the Clan and turns many of them against Daedalus.
– Caitlin’s past is revealed. Camilla, Goth’s partner, heals her hearth-ache via Domination. Julian kills Goth with the help of Daedalus’s blood.
– Caitlin and Julian make love for the first time.
– Cameron begins cementing his position as the new Brujah Primogen.

28. November-2. December: Cabin in the Woods (KtE ep. 08)
– Caitlin and Julian go for a weekend trip to Manzanita. Sorrel attacks them and gets killed by Julian. Caitlin feeds Julian her blood to save him. Julian Dominates her and makes her forget the events.
– Archon confesses the truth about the Manzanita massacre to Cameron who, in exchange, kills him with a phosphorous gun.
– Frank sees Sonny on Archon’s funeral.
– Cameron allows the Conclave to decide if his actions were just but technically he’s free from blame.
AU note: At this time Cameron doesn’t even know about his very influential and powerful relatives in LA, since Sorrel had been disowned by Salvador Garcia for forcing the Clan war against Archon Raine. Salvador realized at the very beginning that the Brujah had no chance to take over San Francisco, so he kept to LA, where he ruled the Western City of Angels as a Minister, undisturbed by Cyrus. Salvador could have become Prince of LA, being a lot more powerful than Cyrus and having considerably more muscle (Anarch gangs on his side), but he wanted LA to remain what it always has been: a Free Anarch State.

Pathways in the Dark - the evolution of a series

wiseheart — Fri, 16 Jul 2021 16:10:20 GMT

PART I – THE FANDOMS

The very foundation of the “Pathways” universe is the short-lived TV series “Kindred: the Embraced”, which, for his part, was loosely based on the White Wolfe RPG, “Vampire: the Masquerade”. I never played the game itself, but did extensive internet research into the background and found the setup endlessly fascinating.

However, I consciously choose the TV-series as the basic settings for my crossover universe. Partly because I found the show itself very impressive and partly because it appeared to me less violent than the game. I kept adding background details and minor characters from the game, however, even though they went through serious changes in my settings.

The very birth of “Pathways” happened when I began thinking about how the Buffyverse characters might fit into the “Kindred” mainframe. I sought for a way to reconcile the two vastly different kinds of vampires: a species older than mankind that procreates by turning mortals into their own kind in “Kindred” versus animated corpses occupied by a demon in the Jossverse. Quite frankly, I found the latter simplistic and stupid. (You are free to disagree with me, of course, but this is my take on the topic.)

Therefore I created my own personal mythology about the Order of Aurelius, based on certain details of White Wolfe canon, which states that Clan Brujah used to live in peace with mortals in Ancient Carthage, until it was destroyed by the Romans, supported by Clan Ventrue. I theorized that Aurelius and the Clan Elders were slaughtered in the process (with the exception of Nahir), and as a reaction, the rest of the Order became a particularly vicious Sabbat pack.

The next step was to rehabilitate Wesley (who, in my opinion, deserved better) and to find him a role according to his true abilities. That was where “Poltergeist: the Legacy” came into the picture. I decided to give LA a proper Legacy House, which I placed into the Hyperion: the hotel that for a while served as Angel’s home. Bringing Alex Moreau over helped me to solve the problem of Angel’s curse – as well as the loose end of Alex almost being turned into a vampire. Yes, that is actually part of P:tL canon and was never brought to a satisfying end.

Cameo characters from other vampire-themed series like “Moonlight” or “Blood Ties” were almost inevitable, but they don’t really play any vital role in the “Pathways” universe. A crossover with “Criminal Minds” (titled “A Touch of the Wild”) was an isolated event. However, the fusion with “Queer as Folk” (the US-version) proved more extensive than originally planned expanding over three stories so far (“The Toreador Chronicles”, “Once Too Often” and “Pittsburgh by Night”). A “Charmed” crossover was born on a very long bus ride across France, more than a decade ago; so far, it only exists in parts that I’ve been trying to put together to a coherent whole for quite some time.

Most fandoms are possible to be added eventually. As I like to say, “Pathways” is the crossover that eats all fandoms. Or, at least, the contemporary ones.”

Below is a (so far) complete list of the fandoms included in this universe. Should “Pathways” swallow other fandoms in the future, this chapter will be accordingly updated.
1) Kindred: the Embraced (K:tE)
2) Vampire: the Masquerade (V:tM)
3) Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS)
4) Angel the Series (AtS)
5) Poltergeist: the Legacy (P:tL)
6) Moonlight
7) The Crow
8) Queer as Folk USA (QaF)
9) Criminal Minds
10)Charmed
11)Blood Ties
12)The Guardian
13) Adam 11 (new version)
14) 11 Jump Street (original)

Coming next: Who’s who in the Pathways universe
This will be a much longer entry, consisting of at least 8 chapters by current planning.

Toreador Chronicles, Part 24b - All Good things, Part 2

wiseheart — Thu, 15 Jul 2021 15:16:24 GMT

Title: All Good Things, Part 2
Author: Soledad

A Pathways in the Dark story
Part 23c of The Toreador Chronicles
Follows: Once Too Often, Part 1

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

Rating: Teens and up, for this part.

Author’s note: Hard to imagine, but this story is actually coming to an end. Several storylines of this tale are coming to full circle.

Summary: Rage II is a success, and Michael finds himself to be the advocate of Justin. That will come with a price

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
As it turned out, all Michael could get from Alex Moreau was a promise that she’ll try to speak to the Prince on his behalf. The fact that – even after repeated transfusions – Justin still wasn’t in any shape to be interrogated (or rather mind-sifted by Drusilla) bought them some time, but Alain and Brian still didn’t believe that Michael had a rat’s chance to change the Prince’s mind.

Not that they really cared, either of them. They just wanted to spare Michael the disappointment.

For four days afterwards, there was no word from Alex Moreau. On the fifth day, however, Owen Thurman called and told them that the Prince wanted to see Michael in person.

“Where?” Alain, who happened to answer the phone, asked.

“At the Hyperion,” Owen replied. “Alex meant that neither Angel’s main haven nor Angel Investigations would be a comfortable place for an empath,” there was hint of a smile in his voice. “Alex likes Michael a lot. We all do.”

We, that meant the Prince’s youngest Childer; the new Brood, Embraced after the reforming of the Aurelians and only a year or two in the Dark. Surprisingly enough, most of them were on friendly terms with Michael. Owen was a given, of course, since the two worked together closely on Rage III. But ex-Special-Ops-soldier Riley Finn had also become fast friends with Michael, and even Harmony – the Prince’s fosterling and his secretary at Angel Investigations – was willing to hang out with him occasionally.

Of course, seeing that Harmony still had not given up her dream of becoming a movie star (despite being unable to act and looking as lifeless as a log on film) had to do something with that. Which didn’t change the fact that being seen with the Prince’s own Brood fairly often could elevate the status of a mere ghoul enormously.

It also meant a certain level of protection, for which Alain was grateful. If the Prince held his hand above somebody, even unofficially, few people were brave – or stupid – enough to try harming that person. Angelus was known to act rather violently if anyone under his protection came to harm.

“All right,” Alain said. “At what time are we expected?”

Because as Michael’s Domitor, it was his right as well as his duty to be present.

“At ten-thirty,” Owen replied. “Angel wants to take out us fledges Hunting around eight, but it should be a short affair. Mostly for David’s sake, really. Angel doesn’t like that he relies almost exclusively on volunteers; the rest of us will be just audience.”

“I thought Phillipe has taught the whelp better,” Alain said in surprise.

“He did; it’s just so that David might have managed to stomp a billion-dollar computer empire out of the earth but somehow failed to actually grow up during the process,” there was that hint of tolerant amusement in Owen’s voice again. “Phillipe was getting grey hairs over his attitude, and so Angel decided to take things into his own hands.”

Alain had his doubts about the possible outcome of that, but in the end it was Angelus’s choice, wasn’t it? At least he’d be recently fed when dealing with Michael and thus in better control of himself.

Hopefully.

“Obviously, when the Camarilla banned the Embracing of children, they forgot about the ones in a seemingly grown body,” he said, and Owen laughed outright at that. “Very well. Thank you for the call. We’ll be there on time.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Michael got understandably nervous when he learned that he’d have to appear before the Prince in person. So far he had only met the former Scourge of Europe once, and that had been a formal affair: Alain asking for – and getting – permission to make him a ghoul. This, however, was a personal matter; something he had lobbied for, despite Alain and Brian’s misgivings, and he couldn’t back off now just because Angelus gave him the creeps.

(Him and just about everyone else, save for his own Brood, but that was another matter entirely.)

This was the right thing to do, he firmly believed that; and he’d go the way to the end, regardless of the costs.

Because he knew it would cost him. Angelus wasn’t known to grant favours out of the goodness of his undead heart. Not even if Alex intervened.

Consequently, Michael’s stomach was the size of a shrivelled lemon when he got into Alain’s Corvette around 9pm. Brian wanted to go with them, of course, his protective instinct kicking in high gear, but Alain flat-out forbade it, threatening to drain him to the brink of torpor, should he even think of disobeying. Since they both knew that Alain didn’t make idle threats, Brian gritted his teeth and stayed home.

To Michael’s relief, it was Owen who answered the door at the Hyperion. He could deal with Owen. Owen was a known quality, while the members of the Legacy House gave him the creeps. Even though they were mortals and Owen was a vampire.

Kindred, he reminded himself mentally, still making mistakes when it came to the correct terms regarding the undead.

“What was the Hunt like?” Alain asked as Owen invited them in.

The fledgling grinned. “Entertaining. I’m not sure who freaked out more: David or the poor girl he was supposed to drink from.”

“Are they all right, though?” Michael asked in concern.

Owen laughed. “The girl is; Harmony made her forget. She’s very good at Dominance. David… well, I guess he’s in for a more serious lesson. He might be part-Ventrue, but he’s a liability for our family, and Angel can’t afford that.”

Michael shuddered involuntarily, remembering some of the harsher lessons Alain had given him and Brian, respectively. He couldn’t even imagine what Angelus’s ‘more serious lessons’ would be like, despite having a very vivid imagination.

“Some lessons must be learned if one wants to survive in the Dark,” Owen said, as if he’d read Michael’s thoughts.

Perhaps he had. Who knew what part of the mixed Aurelian heritage had surfaced in him, due to his encounter with arcane Setite rites. The Order of Aurelius had Embraced new members via vaulderie long before the Sabbat would even appear on the scene, distributing the powers of several different Clans among their progeny for many generations.

“Come now,” he added. “Angel is working for you in the library.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The library lf the LA Legacy House was vast, dimly lit and smelled faintly of old leather. Michael, who had never been there before, felt ruefully out of his depths in this scholarly environment. The tall, ruggedly handsome vampire waiting for them, on the other hand, seemed truly in his element.

As always, Angelus was clad entirely in black, which – together with his dark hair – empathized the paleness of his skin. All Aurelians shared the specific Lasombra weakness of their founder: they couldn’t endure sunshine at all, not even for a short time. Alain, also fairly pale-skinned after five hundred years in he Dark, almost seemed to have a suntan, compared with the Prince.

“Alain deLaigle and his ghoul for you, Sire,” Owen announced, and then he withdrew to the background, without being told to do so. Encounters like this had their very special etiquette, including the fact that a ghoul accompanying his or her maker wouldn’t be mentioned by name.

Alain stopped in respectful distance from the Prince and bowed formally. “My Prince, you wanted to see us.”

“Actually, I wanted to see Michael,” Angelus corrected. “But since you are his Domitor…” he shrugged; then those cold, dark eyes of his caught Michael’s and kept them captive. “Come closer. This is a private conversation, and I don’t want to shout. No need to panic. I’m not going to bite you; not yet.”

Coming from most other vampires, it would have been a lame joke. Michael could feel, however, that the Prince was deadly serious. Having honed his empathic abilities with the help of a Kindred doctor for months, he could tell such things in those days.

“Alex said you wanted to plea on behalf of the Sabbat dependant,” Angelus continued, his tone revealing that for him, Justin didn’t even count as a person anymore. “I want to know why. He did his best – or rather his worst – to discredit you; and he won’t live much longer anyway. Why would you care?”

“Because everyone deserves a peaceful death, and too many people aren’t given that chance,” Michael replied simply. “Besides, my mother would never forgive me if I didn’t even try. She’s always been very fond of Justin.”

“The whelp is too sentimental, Angelus,” the huge, intimidating black vampire sitting in a corner commented. “It’s a fatal weakness.”

The Prince nodded. “Perhaps. But our weaknesses define us as much as our strength. Besides, he’s a ghoul; a recently made one. He has – and will – learn a great deal yet about living in the twilight.”

The Nosferatu Primogen, present as a witness due to his status as the unofficial Justicar of the Prince, raised a hairless eyebrow. “You’re considering granting him the favour?”

“Not exactly a favour,” Angelus replied. “My grant will come with a price,” he turned to Michael. “So, what are you willing to do in exchange for my mercy?”

“Whatever is in my power to do,” Michael said without hesitation; then he added with a wry smile. “Whatever Alain allows me to do.”

The three vampires nodded approvingly. This was the proper answer to give. Michael might have been an independent, successful man in the mortal world, but in the Dark, he had to obey his maker.

“All right then,” the Prince said. “Here is my price. When Alain first asked my permission to make you a ghoul, I told you that one day I shall have a taste of you. This is the time; are you ready to pay my price?”

“Yes, my Prince,” for that, Michael didn’t need Alain’s permission. The Prince had the right to demand a blood toll from anyone living within his Domain.

“Good,” Angelus said. “Give me your arm, then.”

Michael swallowed nervously. He’d gotten used to Alain – and sometimes even Brian – snacking on him from time to time (especially after sex), but this was something different. Something almost ritual and definitely frightening. But he couldn’t turn back now.

He rolled up his shirtsleeve and offered his arm to the Prince. Angelus morphed into game face, into his truly terrifying natural form, his fangs dropping. He extended a razor-sharp talon and slit Michael’s wrist.

Surprisingly enough, it barely hurt.

Then Angelus lifted the bleeding wrist to his mouth and the connection that only works through shared blood between the creatures of the night (or, in Michael’s case, the twilight) was suddenly there, without warning, without preamble. Panicking, Michael slammed down his shields immediately, because the volatile emotions roiling beneath the cold outward surface of the Prince were overwhelming: guilt, anger, regret, determination – and behind all that a faint glimmer of hope.

Alain’s moods and memories were hard enough to face; after all, he was a monster, too, who had done indescribable things during the Clan Wars. But compared with Angelus Alain was a tame monster indeed. And in this moment Michael understood with perfect clarity why even the Sabbat thought twice before confronting the Prince of LA.

The experience lasted for a moment only. After a brief taste, Angelus withdrew his fangs and licked the small cut on Michael’s wrist closed. Then he looked at Alain.

“The price has been paid. You can take the Sabbat plaything and do with him as you please.”

And with that he left the library, with Owen in tow.

Hawk rose from his armchair and addressed Michel directly.

“It was clever of you to go through the Prince’s personal ghoul,” he rumbled. “But do understand that this was a one-a-time arrangement. Don’t expect anything similar happening ever again.”

“I won’t,” Michael rubbed his wrist, faint echoes of phantom pain lacing through his arm. “Justin was the last loose end from my former life. Everyone else has been taken care of.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“What are your plans for your little sunshine, now that you’ve bought him another week or so?” Alain inquired after Hawk, too, had left them alone. “Because I’m not taking him into my house, just that that is clear.”

Michael smiled. “I haven’t expected you. But don’t worry, Emmett and I have discussed the problem and decided to take Justin in… for what little time he has left. I spend most of my days either at your house or at the Studios anyway, so my room is mostly unused.”

“And who’s going to keep an eye on him?” Alain asked. “He’ll need care; and protection, too, should the Sabbat find out that you have him.”

Michael shrugged. “We’ll take tours. Emmett has done the care-giving part before, when his friend Godiva was going to the end in a hospice; and I did the same for Uncle Vic when Ma wasn’t there.”

“That won’t be easy,” Alain warned. “Not even if he’s brain-damaged enough not to recognize you.”

“That could happen?” Michael was mildly shocked.

Alain nodded. “He was brain dead already when those street kids found him; not enough blood left in him for any higher brain functions. Drusilla sifting through his memories probably didn’t help, either.”

Michael shrugged. “Well, that can’t be helped. Emmett and I are the only ones from his former friends who still care; because Brian sure as hell does not. The two of us won’t abandon him now.”

Alan left that without comment. “Are you telling your mother?”

“Nah; it would break her heart. And besides, she would only find a reason to blame me for everything that went wrong in Justin’s life, as always,” Michael smiled bitterly. “In this case ignorance is bliss, I suppose.”

“You are very forgiving,” Alain said. It didn’t sound like a compliment.

Michael shrugged again. “I am what I am. You knew that already when you chose me.”

“True,” Alain allowed. “Well, if you really want to hold Blondie’s hand in his final days, I better organize some help for the transport; and some protection while he’s under your roof.”

“Please, do,” Michael took out his phone. “I’ll alert Emmett in the meantime.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Less than an hour later Justin – still unaware of his surroundings and likely to remain that way to the end – was resting peacefully in Michael’s half of the now rarely used apartment on the Marina. Emmett was there, of course, being the loyal soul that he had always been, even though he didn’t spend much time in their shared apartment in these days, either.

Partly because he had an extensive social life among the undead and partly because the place wasn’t exactly vampire-friendly. Michael had chosen it long before he would learn about the very existence of vampires, and after all those years in the Pitts he wanted sunlight. Lots of it.

Since then, the large windows had been equipped with heavy velvet curtains (on Emmett’s half of the place) and Venetian blinds (in Michael’s room), respectively. The latter were currently pulled up, as it was night anyway; and besides, Emmett said that some air would do Justin good, as he had likely been kept in some kind of basement lately.

“What makes you think so?” Michael asked.

Emmett shrugged. “According to my foster family that is how the Sabbat usually keep their cattle.”

Michael accepted the answer with a nod. The Blount cousins had spent enough time in the Dark to know such things.

“I wonder how long he’ll last,” Graham Miller, sent over from the Legacy House for protection, looked down at the emaciated body of Justin with detached pity. “He looks like death warmed over.”

“Which is exactly what happened,” Riley Finn, the youngest Childe of the Prince and once Graham’s commanding officer at Special Ops, replied grimly. “Angel ordered transfusions and some arcane Nosferatu mojo to be done, so that Drusilla could find out from him what we needed to know, but that won’t keep him alive much longer. And without that, he’d be dead already.”

“Don’t let my Sire hear that you called his alchemy some Nosferatu mojo,” Forrest Gates, the third of their invincible trio and brought back from near-certain death by Hawk, warned his friend. “He’d be most unpleased; and believe me, you wouldn’t want him to be unpleased with you.”

“In any case, let’s hope this won’t take too long,” Brian, who was reluctantly accompanying them, muttered. “As long as he’s alive, Mikey will be in danger.”

“Don’t fret, pretty boy,” Forrest grinned, dropping two vicious-looking canines in the process. “We know how to deal with Hostiles. That’s what we’ve been trained for.”

“Even though we’ve become Hostiles in the meantime,” Riley grinned.

Graham, the only one still mortal among them, examined his fingernails indifferently.

“Speak of yourself, buddy,” then he turned to Brian. “Rye is right, though. We have been trained to deal with this sort of shit. We’ll keep Michael safe, as long as necessary.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
In the end, though, they didn’t have to protect Michael much longer. Two days later Justin died peacefully, without regaining consciousness. Alain arranged with the Nosferatu, who owned the largest crematorium in LA, for the body to be cremated, and Michael and Emmett decided to scatter the ashes into the sea – symbolically, at sunset.

“Well, that was the end of our Sunshine,” Brian commented somewhat cynically. “We’ve got rid of the last piece of ballast from our former lives; now we can concentrate on the future.”

“You mean the next Rage movie?” Michael was used to Brian’s callous behaviour but that last comment was a bit much, even for him.

Brian shook his head. “No; although you’re gonna be busy with Rage for a while yet, or so I hope. You deserve the success; and I’ll do my best to help you. But my future project is magnitudes better. Something on which I’ll have to work steadily in the next fifty years or so.”

Emmett, who had been part of the preparations already, nodded. “Your return to the Pitts.”

“Not now,” Brian clarified, seeing Michael’s expression that was decidedly unhappy. “Not as long as anyone who knew any of us is still alive. But yeah, one day I will go back and take over the city; and I hope that you’ll come with me. Both of you.”

“I might be persuaded,” Emmett allowed. “As much as I like it here, there’s too much competition. I’d like to build something for myself, eventually. And with Kinnetic at my back, I’d have better chances for a breakthrough in Pittsburgh.”

“You can count on me,” Brian promised; then he turned to Michael. “What about you, Mikey?”

Michael shrugged indecisively. “I don’t know, Bri. I like LA too much. My life is here now; my work is here, and I enjoy it very much. I’m not ready to give up all that just yet.”

“You don’t have to; not as long as you don’t want to,” Brian replied. “We’ve got time; I can wait.”

“For how long?” Michael asked doubtfully.

“For as long as it takes,” Brian said simply. “You know how it always was and how it will always bee: the Dynamic Duo. Together forever.”

“Forever, that’s too long a time, even for people like us,” Michael replied seriously. “But it does have a nice sound to it anyway.”

~The End – for good~

SoledadCartwright@14.07.2021.