In the kitchen of my apartment over the antique store I run, I heard the mouse awakening and rustling around in the wall. I Called out to him, and placed a small handful of birdseed on the floor as he scampered out of his hole to see what I wanted. I guess you could say I have a way with animals. My journeyman’s hooded cape hung on a peg by the door, and I took it down, wanting to wear it, but finally decided not to.
The night air was sweet; cool and smoky with the scent of the wind. I crossed the street, hungry with all my being. They had told me the party was at a house on the edge of Swarthmore, far from the business district, far to walk. Lovely shadows graced the sidewalks as I sped down them.
The man was a few feet in front of me, and I crept up silently behind him. The dog on the leash heard me, but I Called out to him, and he knew me then as a friend, so he did not bark or growl. I swung my crippled right arm around the man’s waist and dragged him into the bushes. A slash from the Wolfclaws of my left hand both reddened the back of his neck and silenced him. I drank deeply, my hunger finally appeased. Man, I love being a Gangrel.
The body was easy enough to conceal. I freed the dog from his leash and asked him to dig a hole and bury the man there, under the thick bushes. That taken care of, I hastened to the party. As I neared the house, I could see that some were already there, and others were arriving.
The hostess was French, a silly little woman who was more interested in catching a man than she was in who was in attendance. I looked closely, and saw her breathe. Wonderful, we were gathering at the party of a mortal. I wondered who’s friend she was, but then realized that she had probably been brought into everything because we needed a big house to meet in.
Looking around, I didn’t see a good deal of the familiar faces to whom I was accustomed. The French woman kept yammering at me, so I escaped to another room. A great many Kindred that were new to the city chatted in the halls and around the tables. Had a city been destroyed, leaving the refugees to seek asylum in Swarthmore? I met a few of them, introduced myself. They were mostly young, many rude enough to ask about my hand.
Turning, I saw Lady Meredith, the only Tremere left in the city. When her clan was banished as scapegoats after an Assimite assassination attempt on the Prince, she had been both powerful and trusted enough to remain.
"See any of the people you know?" she asked, warily. I caught her meaning instantly. In this city, when you don’t see people, especially important people, something’s going on, and it’s usually not good.
"Not as many as I’d expected, and that worries me," I replied. She nodded and continued to scan the room. "And where’s the Prince?" I added.
My question went unanswered as a young Ventrue in a business suit interrupted me and started introducing himself. I tactfully left, looking for Lord Michael Bain, the leader of the Swarthmore Gangrel clan. I found him speaking with, well, more like being spoken to by our hostess. Her eyes were like that of a cat as it approaches its prey, and she looked as if she’d have him in bed in seconds if left to her own devices.
"My Lord, may I have a word with you?"
"Yes, certainly," he replied, making polite excuses to the mortal as we walked further down the hall. Undaunted, the woman stalked over to the nearest man in the room, the Ventrue who I’d met a moment before.
"Well, Ta’jid, what do you need?"
"It is, Lord Michael, that I have been in the city for about four months. I have much experience now, and bid you teach me the discipline of Earthmeld," spoke I, lowly, so as not to be heard by a mortal standing in the other room.
He nodded gravely. "Yes, you do have much experience, but unfortunately, I do not know Earthmeld. Our clan-sister Juniper is coming later tonight. Ask her, I’m sure she’ll teach you."
With that, he went to pursue other conversations, and I found myself in the front room with Calli, a Brujah, her mortal friend, and Mace, a Ventrue new to the city. I’d heard of Mace by reputation. They said that she’d survived the prison camps of South Africa, and those were places that made my torture from KGB sound like a walk in the park. I’d even heard that while there, she was forced to Diablorize a few elders to survive. That must have taken true strength, and impressed me a great deal.
I listened to the three of them talk for a while, then my clan-sister, Juniper, came through the door. I had not know before that night that there were any Gangrel in Swarthmore besides myself and Lord Michael. She joined us, and quickly, a half-an-hour passed in conversation.
Suddenly, the front door burst open, and Ari, a giant Brujah, stepped in, holding a lit lighter in front of an acetylene torch. We all stood, and backed against the wall. He looked around the room, screaming for us to get back, then ran through the house. Tom, the young Brujah who’d embraced Calli, followed him in.
"What happened?" I asked.
"Someone flashed a gun at him and he frenzied," he shouted as he ran after his clan-brother.
We settled down into our conversation again after Mace Dominated the mortal so she would forget the scene with Ari. Things were almost back to the way they had been when we heard a round of gunshots from outside.
"Shit, now what’s going on?" I murmured to myself.
Tom ran through the door. "They killed Ari!" he shouted to Calli.
"What?" she asked, shocked. Calli stood, and started to follow Tom outside but he shoved her back in.
"Please, stay here, it’s not safe out there," he told her, and ran back out again.
I leaned on the piano near the door, not daring to look out the window. Lady Meredith came over, evidently having just escaped chatting with our hostess.
"Why don’t you just kill her? It’s so obvious you want to."
"No, she amuses me," said Lady Meredith, "besides, there are worse ways to die."
"When I was young, I used to be afraid of death. A friend once asked me how I wanted to die, and I told her, ‘old age’. But, I guess that’s not really a concern anymore." I commented.
A very well-dressed Englishman, I did not know of what clan, engaged us in conversation as he pondered the notion that the ‘classical European gentleman’ was a dying breed. The talk about Europe attracted the attention of the French woman, who talked at length on her opinion of Englishmen.
The door flew open, and a young Ventrue, I think her name was Ruby, staggered in and fell to the floor. Most of her midsection, which she clutched desperately, was burned black. Our hostess stared, mouth agape.
"Wha?" she attempted at speech.
"Get her out of here!" I shouted to whoever was nearby, and when no one else made a move, Lady Meredith guided our shocked hostess into the dining room.
"In the name of Cain, what happened to you?" I asked Ruby.
She stood slowly, leaning on the piano. "Oh, nothing. Things are getting a bit…crispy out there." And she managed a pale smile before limping into the dining room and taking a bit of the French woman’s blood to help the healing. Regretfully, Ruby left our hostess alive.
Not wanting to get involved in anything further, I retreated to the back room which had a door to the small wooden patio and the backyard. There I found Mace and Juniper. I was about to ask her if she would teach me Earthmeld, when everyone ran in from the front room. Someone shouted to gather all the Camerilla in the back room. I ran up to Tom.
"What’s going on?" I shouted over the confusion.
"The Sabbat are outside and they’re storming the house." He replied before running to find Calli.
Sabbat. The word sunk in and I shivered, my stomach full of dread. I had only seen one once, and that was enough. They can walk disguised as Camerilla, for indeed, they are a sect of the Kindred. Unmasked, some of them look like eight-foot versions of the thing that popped out of Sigorny Weaver’s innards in the Alien movie.
Oh yeah, and they’re the sworn enemy of the Camerilla. Swarthmore had been the last stronghold for us, since the Sabbat held the entire east coast. When the Prince, Lady Allissa of Torredor, had deposed Prince Lady Mae of Ventrue, she’d promised that we’d have no trouble with the Sabbat. I’d certainly call this trouble.
Mace gathered us in the kitchen, herded the dominated mortals into the back room, and started handing out knives to those who didn’t have guns. The Ventrue in the business suit, William, called me over to the side door.
"Ta’jid, can you guard this door so I can take the other side one?" he asked.
"Sure," I answered.
Lady Meredith ran past, but stopped when I shouted to her.
"What?"
"If the Sabbat break through this door, will I be able to kill them with my Wolfclaws?" I said, a bit panicked.
She considered this for a moment. "Truthfully, I don’t know. If they do, shout a warning, then fall back to the kitchen," Then, she hurried back to her post.
Fall back? Me? Ta’jid Noviev Nox Miradies of Gangrel, run from a fight like a coward? Never! I’d die before betraying my fellow Camerilla. From outside came gunshots and shouts, and even more unsettling, ominous growls. Now I was really on edge. It wasn’t that I was scared, but that I was not well armed. I had no gun, no knife, no right hand, and no extra-ordinary powers. I wished that I had Obfuscate so I could at least have the element of surprise on my side.
Juniper came around the corner.
"Have you seen Lord Michael anywhere?" she asked me.
"No. I think he’s outside fighting the Sabbat. By the way, since we’re under attack, can you teach me Earthmeld quickly? I think it might come in handy if we come to full combat with our enemies."
She nodded, bowed her head, and sunk into the floor. I tried, but couldn’t get past my knees. Juniper rose, then helped me try again. This time I went down all the way, melded with the floor. It was amazing. I could still perceive everything aboveground as accurately as if I was still there. I rose, and Juniper was back at her post, the front window.
Someone hit the glass side door. I jumped, Wolfclaws drawn, ready to die defending the house. The massive form was that of the Torredor Tyler Nightshade, our city Enforcer. He pounded on the door, yelling for me to let him in. I tried, but it was locked from the outside, and I told him so. He shouted that it was OK, he’d go in the other door. Silence followed. Moments passed, and there was still no word of Tyler.
Suddenly Tom was pulling me through the kitchen, and Mace was running ahead of us. Everyone was shouting the same thing, "The Sabbat are in the house, fall back, fall back!"
We ran out the back door and stopped on the wooden patio. I heard the screams of someone who hadn’t gotten out in time, and saw the Sabbat, some masked, others not filling the house. I think we all saw Lord Michael at the same time. He was standing in the middle of the kitchen next to Ruby. Shouting, I told them to be careful; there was a Sabbat behind them. They turned to confront the monster, and I was horrified to see Lord Michael smile and bow in respect, as did Ruby. He was Sabbat, had been the whole time, ever since I met him on first coming to Swarthmore four months previous.
All of us, the remaining Camerilla, backed away from the house and fell back to the yard. Mace brandished a pack of matches and set the patio on fire. I fought the urge to frenzy, Earthmelding into the ground to calm myself. It was soft, cold and wet, for rain had fallen hard the night before. The fire started to spread to the house as the Sabbat reached the back door. Flames kept them from attacking us, but they regrouped in the back room.
Itwas then that I realized I was probably going to die in the next few minutes. Calling on the Fortitude of my clan, I steeled for combat. If I rushed toward the patio when they attacked, I could try to pull a Sabbat with me into the flames. An honorable end to a brave life. I came out of Earthmeld.
Mace handed me a lit torch, but the Beast, brought forth by my calling on Fortitude, prevented me from frenzying. Nick Gunner, a powerful Ventrue and the city’s Deputy Enforcer, came out of Obfuscate next to us, weapons in both hands.
"Everyone! Face out! Backs to the circle!" Lady Meredith shouted. We followed her orders, making it so that the Sabbat could not approach from any side without being seen. I remembered that she was a Tremere, a sorcerer, and the most powerful of all of us in the yard. We, the Camerilla of Swarthmore, were making the our last stand in the back yard.
The Sabbat gathered at the back door, and by this time, the flames had spread to the trees surrounding the yard. In a circle of fire, the youngest and less experienced of us fought not to frenzy. Suddenly, the flames on the patio and house went out. I gasped in amazement; they had us now for sure. Then I realized that none of the Sabbat were going onto or near the patio.
"It must be an illusion!" I shouted, "it’s still on fire!"
I knew that I spoke, but did not hear my own words. Others shouted, but in truth, I cold hear no sound at all. Quietus must have been cast. We looked around in confusion. Mace mouthed the words ‘don’t move’, and most of us caught on. Since they couldn’t hear anything either, the Sabbat would have to attack by sight. That’s when it happened.
Total Darkness fell around us. It was like my eyes no longer existed. I looked around wildly, but could see nothing. In pure panic, I threw the torch away from the circle, hoping, at least, to hit a Sabbat before it reached us and killed me.
I felt something hitting my right leg. I drew my Wolfclaws, but the hits continued. Then I understood that it was someone trying to grasp my right hand, which was not there. I retracted my Wolfclaws and grabbed the arm with my left hand. It pulled me through people, past flames, and through underbrush. When we got far enough away, the Total Darkness lifted, Quietness faded, and I saw that it was a young Nosferatu who’d dragged me with the rest of the Camerilla as we took Fair Escape. Mace had Dominated the remaining mortals, and set them free in the business district after erasing their memory.
An hour later we were aboard a private plane owned by the Ventrue, and four hours after that, at a safehouse in Venezuela, owned by Tyler Nightshade, who, we learned from Nick Gunner, had fled, wounded, to Bolivia. Dawn was not far off, so we took to rest, and as Swarthmore burned, we mercifully slept.