Personnel at Richmond Chantry House, Richmond, CA:
"Agonies"
Time: After "Howling of Wolves: The Immortals"
Thorne, upon departing Camera della Luna after Julian's meeting with Lucien Lacroix, only made it as far as an isolated outcropping of rock on his way home to the Tremere chantry in Richmond across the Bay. There he collapsed, spent, his psychic energies used up to the point where he was unable even to call to his clansmen. It had been stupid for him, with the load he was already carrying, to take the time and energy to locate the mortals who had been drawn to the meeting on the spirit plane.
But it was worth it, for Thorne had found a true Shaman, a mortal endowed with a natural ability to travel in the Spirit world. Someday soon he hoped to go back to Berkeley, in the flesh this time, and observe this man, perhaps even speak to him, provided he could avoid breaking the Masquerade.
However, the Tremere Regent was in no condition to even contemplate such an encounter.
The mental drain effected Thorne physically in that he felt too weak to walk, much less fly, and of course he could not shape-shift into eagle form, which would have made flight easier. He lay against the rocks near where the water lapped, his tall body limp and twitching, his pale skin a chalky white.
In time, hours, even, he would recover physically, his Kindred nature automatically working to restore his energy. Even his psychic abilities would recharge. Thorne was too powerful a magus not to be able to recover quickly.
What he was unable to realize as yet was that he was suffering from far more than a siphoning of his mental and magickal powers. Thorne had not taken into account the delayed, emotional effect of facing his torturer, Lacroix, again. The effect of the torture on his psyche was compounded by the fact that he had allowed it. And unfortunately he was not well equipped to deal with that, even if his energy was restored. All the psychic and magickal powers in the Arcanum could not touch the full depths of his inner pain, though they win him some surcease. No, a different sort of healing would have to take place for him.
Until then, he could be viewed as a danger to himself and those close to him. In fact, at the moment, he felt most like taking a knife to himself and washing the rocks with his blood.
The Tremere chantry was quiet, too quiet, blanketed with a deathlike silence that chilled bones and lay dread like cement in the hearts of the magus there. The blood bonds to the Regent were at fault, as the chantry members were psychically linked to their master's pain. But they were not without power, not without means to combat the malaise.
Selsor, upon finding Davic hiding in a closet, huddled into a small, trembling ball on the floor, took charge of the chantry, snorting with disgust as she summoned the magus to a large conference room. Of the 35 magus in the city, twenty lived at the chantry, and minus the devastated Davic, all twenty assembled to discuss their current situation.
The red-headed, green-eyed Selsor slammed her fist down onto the conference table. "We are Clan Tremere, we WILL defeat this disease that seems to have affected our chantry!" she snapped at the assembly. Around her the magus flinched.
"Magus Selsor," asked a slim man with snowy white hair (though he appeared young), "do we know the cause? Where is Master Thorne?"
She met the man's eyes, and cold iron were in hers. "I do not know, Ecco.... yet. I have a call to make to the Prince of San Francisco. If he has harmed our master, he will answer to us and our response will be severe. I only know that Master Thorne attended a meeting at Camera della Luna last night."
Del Anchene sighed and touched her on the arm. "Sit down, Sely, save your energy for what needs to be done." He, too, looked depressed and dejected. "Channel your anger... later. Right now, we need information, and we need Thorne. Where is Hunter? And Davic?" The Gargoyle was often a barometer for what was going on with their master, as was Davic to a lesser degree.
The magus found Hunter after an hour long search of the chantry. The Gargoyle, curled up into a ball like Davic, was hiding in the darkest corner of the darkest hallway of the storage floor beneath the subterranean laboratories. Clearly Hunter was frightened out of his wits. Judging that he could be dangerous, Selsor left Hunter with a guard of a couple magus and the Gargoyle Justo.
Returning to the meeting, Selsor sighed and sank into a chair. "Bring me a phone," she murmured to the nearest magus.
When the call to the Mansion went through, the Gangrel primogen, the Prince's chief of security, was on the other end. "I need to talk to the Prince," Selsor explained calmly.
Cash, as soon as the woman had identified herself as Tremere, was instantly on guard, wary. "What about?" he said a little too roughly.
Selsor ignored his question and tone of voice and proceeded to explain. "I am Magus Selsor of the Richmond chantry of the Clan Tremere. I have urgent need to speak to the Prince regarding our... primogen, Thorne Severan." She'd almost referred to Thorne as "Regent", but that was strictly a Tremere title for the head of a chantry that he'd expressly asked them not to use with other Kindred.
[Wizards,] Cash thought morosely, and replied, "Just a minute."
The Prince came on the line next. "This is Julian Luna, Magus Selsor. How may I help you?"
"My lord," she replied formally, "please pardon the call, but I have need to speak to our primogen. Is Master Thorne still there, please?" Beside her, Del took her hand in his, hoping to calm her. She nodded to him, grateful. This was trying on all of them.
[Uh-oh, now what,] Julian thought. "Ah, I'm afraid Thorne left late last night, Magus, at the termination of a meeting we had here." He put the phone on the speaker and sat back, steepling his fingers.
"Lord, we have not heard from him," Selsor explained, unable to get all the worry out of her voice. "And we who are bound to him feel that something is very wrong. How, er, was he when he left?"
Cash threw a look to Julian, who gestured for him to keep silent. [It's all right, Cash, I can deal with this.]
Aloud he replied to the magus, "Thorne did not look well, I will grant that, Magus. There had been... an expenditure of energy on his part, I believe, that had to do with protection of myself and the environs. Should this have been a problem?"[Damn,] Selsor commented to Del, who was listening in, [that means Thorne was using magickal energy he shouldn't have... it's only two days since...] She didn't even want to think about two days ago. Thorne had been brought in by Hunter, brutally savaged by... they assumed it wasn't Kindred. But Thorne would not tell them of his assailant. "My prince," she went on aloud, "Thorne has been... pushing himself. I... I don't know what he's told you of the last couple days..."
Julian exchanged a glance with Cash, wondering. "I know," Julian replied somberly, "that he... gave himself to another in an, ah, unusual way. I don't imagine even Kindred recover from *that* easily. That... other... was here last night. I imagine there are... emotional battles ahead for your primogen, Magus. I offer you any help or resources I am able to give to help you... with him."
The news rocked Selsor to the core. The one who'd tortured their master had been *there*, at the prince's mansion! Del grabbed her arm, frightened by the shock on her face. "Sely? What is it?"
"It's okay, shhh," she said to the other, her hand over the phone. Then she replied to the Prince, "Thank you, my prince. We need to find him first, and we do have ways of doing that. Thank you for the information."
Julian heard the fear in her voice. "Selsor, please call me when you find him? Or when you can tell me more about how he is?"
"As you wish, my lord," Selsor answered and hung up the phone. She lifted her eyes to the waiting magus. "Clan Tremere, we will Ritual to locate our Master." She stood. "Del, prepare a vessel..."
In fifteen minutes, the chantry members were ready. In the center of the table lay a small copper pot, filled halfway with blood from every Tremere blood bound to Thorne. Davic had been brought and made to contribute, but the Gargoyle Hunter they had left alone, wary of his strength and possible madness. Selsor, Del, and Ecco, standing together as the chief magus of the chantry for the purposes of this Ritual, began to intone the words of Finding...
On the rock outcropping, Thorne was unconscious. Fortunately, Lacroix was still upset enough by how the meeting had gone that he had no inclination to dally with the magus again, though he could have found him if he'd wanted to. The vampire was far more interested in absorbing himself with his loving son, and forgetting for a day that Julian Luna even existed. So Thorne was out of danger... from Lacroix. Tonight.
It was nearly dawn when the Tremere started Ritual, and just daybreak when they located their master. Fearful for what the sun might do to their weakened leader, Selsor and Del hastily went alone to retrieve Thorne.
Thorne was sitting up by now... waiting for the sun to consume him. Apparently. The Regent hugged his knees up against his chest and stared out over the black water, unseeing. Selsor touched him. "Master?" There was no reaction.
"He's not even warded," Del whispered and crouched down beside their regnant. "Master Thorne, please let us take you home."
"We're taking you home anyway," Selsor retorted. Grabbing one arm, she indicated for Del to take the other.
Once the unresponsive leader was returned to the chantry, they tried to get him to feed. Davic, by this time, had come back to himself somewhat, and after observing the failed attempts, went out to the members, waiting anxiously in the conference room. "I need a volunteer," he said flatly, his eyes dull. "I cannot, as he needs me strong."
They guessed... their Master had need to drink long and deep from a single, unblended source. The volunteer would be left to regenerate, which could take days, leaving the magus vulnerable. If the magus could be mercifully rendered unconscious for that time, he would be spared the pain of tissues starved for blood. His clansmen would protect him here in the chantry, feed him. Such a volunteer ought not to have enemies among his brothers and sisters, then.
"I would be honored to serve," Ecco murmured, rising from his seat. Beside him, young Lydon started, as he had been just about to volunteer himself. As if sensing his offer, Ecco's hand settled on the apprentice's shoulder. [Young one, you are regenerating yourself, somewhat...]
Davic met the eyes of the white-haired man. "You serve the Clan Tremere well, Magus Ecco Domignion." The assembly bowed as Ecco went with Davic to Thorne's chamber.
Selsor nodded to them at the door. "Good luck," she murmured, glancing back at the still form sitting on the edge of the bed. "He's resisting me." Then her eyes widened as she saw who was to be the "donor". Ecco Domignion was a recent addition to the Order of Knives, leaving the personal service of the Ventrue Prince in London to flee the country with Thorne and the others when the Ventrue/Tremere war there got particularly heated. He'd been the last one of them bound in blood to Thorne.
She said nothing to Ecco, except to take him in her arms and kiss him briefly. Then she was gone to distract the others, send them on their ways, and call the Prince of San Francisco to tell him the lost was found.
Davic, too, kissed Ecco, and rather fervently. "Brother, I will be by the door," he murmured. "Your blood will strengthen him."
Ecco smiled, his dark brown eyes twinkling. But he said nothing, his mind already slipping into the task ahead of him.
Davic left, then, taking up a station outside the door where he could still listen in.
Ecco removed all his clothes slowly and within sight of the staring Regent. Then he sank to his knees before his master, sliding his hands along his thighs. "Master," he cooed softly, looking up into the blank face. "Beautiful Master, you need blood, one blood." He swayed closer, tilting his snowy head back and to the side, his long throat displayed. "Drink me, master..."
Something in that blank face stirred. The eyes focused, shifted down... Throat. A long, lean, lusciously Tremere throat, bared for his taking.
"Yes, Master, I'm yours now, take it, take my blood..." Ecco's cultured British accent flowed like molten silver into the old one's ears. He caressed Thorne's thighs, again feeling in himself the draw of this ancient magus, the call that had led Ecco to him, allowed the Bond.
Suddenly his head was grasped in two slender hands, and a cold, violet fire in the eyes of the other. "Master..." Ecco breathed. He knew the Regent was disturbed by some internal force, that nothing less could dim his vast personal power. That the disturbance might engulf him, too... he had to risk. "Take me, Master..."
An inhuman snarl issued from the Master's throat, followed by the baring of fangs. Then Ecco's world exploded into pain as a force struck his throat powerfully, and the Master began to suck.
Thorne, lost somewhere in his depression, gave himself over to the feeding, working the fine, firm body of his clanman over to extract every drop of blood made delicious because of the depth of Ecco's sacrifice to him. His thirst seemed insatiable, the blood sweet and ripe, Kindred, Tremere, Ecco's.
At least that was the intent when he started. Thorne stopped completely about a fourth of the way into his grisly task. He withdrew fangs and stared deep into the eyes of his beloved Ecco, his hands still holding his head. The other Tremere still clutched his thighs, and the expression on his face was a curious blend of ecstasy and surprise.
"M...Master?" Ecco breathed, and for a bad moment thought his blood must not be suitable, must not taste good to the Regent. But then Thorne smiled at him, his eyes gleaming with pride... and desire.
"Ecco, my love," the Regent murmured, thumbs caressing the sides of his face, "Your sacrifice touched my heart, broke me of my fugue..." He blinked, realizing the truth of his words only as he spoke them. "I was lost, Ecco, bound in a prison of fear and loathing, and you brought me back. Thank you..." Then he bent to kiss his clansman, moving one arm around him to bring him closer into his embrace.
The relief in the other flooded their blood-link. "Master, I am so glad," Ecco breathed and settled into the kiss. He only felt slightly dizzy. He'd been prepared to face the worst pain a Kindred could feel, save the touch of the sun.
When they broke the kiss, Thorne immediately shifted to lick the remaining blood from Ecco's neck. "So delicious, my beautiful Ecco, so full of eagerness to ease your master's pain..."
Ecco held his Regent's head against his neck, gasping at the pleasurable touch, almost wanting the return of Thorne's fangs in his throat. "Please, Master, all my blood is yours... take whatever you need of me, please..." Desire arose in him though he dared not hope his troubled master would be... interested...
In the next second, Thorne was dragging him off his knees, pulling him onto the bed and laying him down. "I need more than blood, Ecco," the master breathed, removing his black tunic and pants before lying down beside him. "Someone has damaged my soul, and I must reclaim one of my own to get some of my soul back," he explained, his hands already caressing the lean body of the other. "I need this to find my way all the way back, touch my power again."
"Oh, yes," Ecco sighed, letting the other pet him. "Reclaim me, Master Thorne..."
Sighing, Thorne began with his mouth, licking and tasting the lean column of throat, the shoulders, the wide smooth chest, his nipples. Ecco writhed under the attentions of his master's expert mouth, and cried out when Thorne's hand closed around his cock.
Without the room, Davic was leaning on the doorjamb, sighing heavily, enjoying the sensations through his blood bond with Thorne. Just then Selsor came up to him, back from calling the prince, and laid a hand on Davic's arm. She, too, sensed the change. "So he didn't drain him," she said in amazement.
"No," Davic murmured, then pulled her into his embrace. "The darkness that held him has been broken." He grinned down at the usually somber Selsor. "He and Ecco are making love... want to join them?" Not even waiting for an answer, he bent down to her mouth.
When she broke off the kiss a moment later, it was because she was laughing. "Oh, Davic, how tempting! But we should let Ecco have our Master to himself for a while... besides, I think we might need to check in on Hunter..."
Davic laughed. "This should be interesting! When Thorne is having sex in-house, Hunter is usually drawn in somehow..." He grabbed her hand and, still laughing, they took off together to discover just whom the large Gargoyle was intimately involved with.
Back within the room, Ecco had turned over for Thorne, eagerly letting him prepare him for fucking. For these lusty Kindred, that took substantially less time than for mortals. When Thorne plunged his hard cock deep into his clansman, Ecco cried out with joy at the burst of pain and then the delicious sensations of being fucked. "I need it hard, Master," Ecco gasped, and got his wish.
Purging the agonies that threatened his soul, Thorne held onto Ecco's hips and fucked him with long, powerful strokes, piercing deep into the other's bowels, even to making him bleed. Their blood bond soared with the co-mingled pleasure and pain, a joy in each other, in being Tremere that would bleed over to all the chantry members, healing them of the miasma. Nearing a climax, Thorne felt his personal powers surge back to fullness. A violet glow began to emanate from his fiercely thrusting body.
In the depths of the chantry underground levels, Davic and Selsor discovered quite a show and, in fact, a ring of Tremere enjoying it. Hunter and Justo, two male Gargoyles, were enthusiastically going at it right in the hallway. Their audience wasn't idle either, as plenty of kissing and groping were going on as well.
Selsor raised her eyebrows, watching the lusty creatures in amazement, allowing the suddenly ardent Davic to kiss her throat and face. "What, have we exchanged one disease for another?" she laughed at her companion.
"Sicken me some more, Sely," Davic murmured, his hands on her breasts.
The unearthly glow had filled the entire room. Ecco, stunned to insensibility, remained in something of a state of bliss even as his master's fucking had continued. Thorne, childe of Tremere himself, was healed, knowing he could now even allow Lacroix his body again, and nothing could ever touch his spirit. He had no need of that - [I have your BLOOD, Lacroix!] - but would never again suffer the self-doubt that that particular self-immolation had engendered. Shouting his triumph, Thorne came fiercely hard, and the violet glow changed to a brilliant gold, flooding the room. Its effects traveled outward through the chantry in carefully subtle ways. This was a power not to be shared with any but his sire or his true peers. Even as he exploded, even as he felt the peak of his powers, he was tempering it for the sake of his clansmen. Only Ecco got anything of a real taste of it, but Thorne did not mind, allowing the taste for this clansman who'd offered him such an ultimate sacrifice. Ecco had earned it.
Coming down - physically, that is - Thorne eased himself from Ecco's body. He bent first to lick away the blood still trickling from the man's anus; within it would heal in seconds, and there was no pain any longer. "Ecco, beloved," Thorne sighed with a deep satisfaction as he turned the man around, kissing his face and pulling him against him.
"Master..." Ecco murmured a moment later, then he smiled and snuggled against his regnant. Then his head raised as he looked at his master in amazement. The power...
Thorne met his wondering gaze. "Yield to me, Ecco... yield your mind to me."
Ecco nodded, awed.
[You cannot speak of this to any being living or dead,] Thorne commanded his thrall, petting his face lovingly. [That knowledge is forever veiled from revelation. Do you understand?]
The answer came without hesitation. [Yes, regnant....] The term was used when a blood-bound Kindred would address his binder in an attitude of submission and acknowledgment of their dominance over them. It was more deeply submissive to say "regnant" rather than "master."
[I am a chantry Regent, not... that. Not in this city, in this country, nowhere perhaps outside of Vienna in the presence of my Master,] Thorne continued solemnly. [This is my choice.]
[Regnant, I understand.] Ecco's deep brown eyes were wide, not frightened but stunned and eagerly yielding.
[You're so beautiful, Ecco, so loving,] Thorne murmured into the other's mind, his expression softening as he bent to kiss him.
[Regnant...] came back the soft call shivering with pleasure.
Sometime over the next twenty minutes, the other senior magus slipped in to join them - Selsor, Davic, Del, drawn by the healing they sensed in their master. Still laughing and happy, they slipped off their clothes and pounced their beloved Regent. Five minutes later, just as things were starting to heat up again, there was a hard bump at the door.
[Hunter, get your ass in here,] Thorne commanded the Gargoyle, chuckling. Then five Tremere whooped with a mixture of laughter and indignation as the gray behemoth invaded and proceeded to thoroughly break the bed.
The End
