Eve Giovanni was working, as usual. With Zane gone for the week on urgent business, she really had nothing else to do. Besides, the wards that he'd set up were beginning to fade, and she could hear her wraithly 'companions' every now and then. When were they going to shut up and leave her alone? Hell, both they and she had eternity for these games. That thought made her groan and rub her eyes in exhaustion, trying to will them away.
Silence. It had worked. Sometimes everything in Swarthmore was too much to handle, but then, when you're the only renegade member of Clan Giovanni, you don't have that many options. And then there was Zane, the fiercely gallant Brujah who'd risked his unlife to journey to Italy and save her from her own family. No, as long as he wanted to stay in the city, she'd stay by him; she'd never leave her love, not even in death, which, she grimly reflected, had already come for both of them.
A noise. She started and whirled around from her desk. The library was dark, lit only by the small lamp behind her. The shadows danced as she stepped in front of it, but there was no one there, and no trace of anything otherworldly. Something was there, she could feel it, but why couldn't she see or hear it? Whatever, whoever it was, they were trying not to be seen. Eve stepped forward. A book, one that she was sure hadn't been there a moment before, was lying on the floor. She picked it up.
"An Expanded History of the Native Peoples of Upper Mongolia from 2000 - 300 BC. Huh, I haven't seen this book in a while. Yeah, I get it. Whoever you are, you snuck in here just to bring me a book I lost. Wow, you're so cool, now shove the fuck off or show yourself. I've got work to do and no time for games."
Silence. It had worked again. The feeling vanished; what or who had been in the room was gone. Eve Giovanni returned to her desk, trying to remember how long ago she'd misplaced that book, and who could have possibly found it and returned it in such a manner. Were she mortal, she would have sighed. Zane would be home in a few nights, yes, just wait a few more nights.
It had been a lovely opera, one well worth the travel to view it. Jade, contented, lounged back on the day-couch. Lovely, true, but somehow nothing like the operas she remembered seeing when she'd been young. Ah, the music, the arias! The memories were almost intoxicating, and sent her into a pleasant haze. That, and the thought of her sire, Adonis. He promised to escort her to the performance, but had to cancel at the last minute, so she'd been forced to go instead with Gustav, that polite Tremere, but still, a Tremere.
Perhaps Adonis would come by before dawn. This possibility made her tremble. He'd been so busy of late, had he forgotten her? Or worse, was there another? Thinking of that brought back the memory of the young Brujah and that horrible night. Now the sounds and images rushed through her. The assassin, the ashes, the disease. Oh God, he'd actually touched her cheek. Again, she felt her body jerk as she remembered the vision when she'd picked up the bullet.
It was in her handbag still. Now she took it out and looked at it; smooth and shining in the low light of the dim room. Raven, that had been the name of the Rabble, right? She'd been so uncouth, so vulgar and raw, she'd dared to love Adonis. Jade should hate her, but why did she still feel so guilty over the Brujah's death? That Assimite would have found her no matter where she'd been, just pulling her aside to talk hadn't caused the attack.
Someone was watching, someone else was in the room. Jade tensed and looked up in a snap. No one. No noise, no thoughts, just silence and that feeling. Then there came a freezing breeze, and a voice like that of the wind, like from another time, another place.
"Please!"
"W-who is it?!? Who's there?!?"
"…need it. Please, I…not much time…Jade!"
The Toreador shook violently. The feeling was familiar, she knew it. From the shadows, a form stepped, grim and gray, like an old black-and-white movie character. It flickered, becoming a bit clearer. The clothes were the same, the leather, the chains, and Jade could almost smell the city wafting from her. Raven just stood there.
"But, y-you're dead!"
"…I know."
"No! Please, get away! I'm sorry, God, isn't that enough? If I could have done something, b-but he moved so fast…"
The shade stepped forward. "…not your fault. Would have happened…nothing you could do. Now…need it."
"What? What do you need for me to do? Will you be able to rest then?"
Raven nodded. "Just need…please…" She pointed to Jade's hand.
Jade looked down, and the warm bullet was still resting in her palm. It felt heavy suddenly, the weight and smoothness of the medal somehow comforting. She thought about that bullet, about how it'd been bought from an ammo store, probably, then ended up in a gun that'd shot the Brujah. Then, it'd rode in Raven's skull to Chicago, then to Los Angeles, Seattle, and finally returned to Swarthmore, only to lie amongst diseased ashes on the floor of the house of a Ventrue. The bullet had been a part of her; of course she'd want it now.
"H-here, take it."
The hand of the shadow reached out, gray mist that formed itself into the shape of something once whole. Suddenly, Jade jerked back, and Raven winced, and backed up.
"What happens next? What is Final Death like?"
A look of twisting pain contorted the Brujah's face, then it was gone. "Hell."
"Does love exist there?"
"…not in the whole…you must bring…there can be no peace. Beware…he loves his sect…he cannot love you."
Steadying herself, growing by the moment less fearful, Jade finally looked the shade in its eyes. "You speak properly now, but you still look like you did."
"…do not speak with my own voice…the words I gather…others have spoken…I cannot speak…all is silent…here. Please…need it."
Again, Jade held out the bullet, and for a moment, felt the searing cold as Raven's hand closed around the thing and it disappeared. Her image began to blur and fade, and the sound of wind and static grew louder.
"…thank you."
The Toreador, momentarily overwhelmed, fell in a faint onto the day couch, which is where Adonis found her, more than an hour later.
They were harping on her failure as both a member of the family and the clan now. Well, as soon as Zane got back, he could re-cast those wards and keep them all away for as long as the ritual would last. Eve had been going over the book she'd 'found' the night before, and finally remembered that the last time she'd seen it was the last time she'd been in Swarthmore. Yes, that's it, she'd probably lent it to Zane, and he'd put it back in the library, mistaking it for one of his own books. But who had put it on the floor?
The voices dropped away in an instant, and Eve looked up. Her ancestors were gone, at least for the minute. No, there was a slight breeze in the study that moved the curtains. That thing was back, no question. Who was it? What was it? Damnit, she'd set all this straight.
"I know you're there. I can feel it. Just come out or go away, be seen or be ignored. It's your choice, but I'm busy."
A chill shook her, and a small bullet fell onto the book on the desk. Flowers of frost crystallized on the window as the thing left. Her hand shaking slightly, Eve picked up the object. Instantly, her sight went dark, while a force and flash jolted her back. Unimaginable agony filled her, and Eve saw her hand coming away from her own forehead, shaking and covered with blood. All around was the heavy, sickening scent of gunpowder and night in the city, so strong that it nearly choked her. The instant ended, and she found herself sitting where she'd been before.
"What the fuck do you want from me?"
Eve drew herself up tight in the chair. The vision had touched off something within her, a memory perhaps, but it had been nearly subliminal, and now it was gone. Was it Dante? No, he was gone, and he would have had no reason to torment her. Zane was away, so very far away. She pushed the bullet into a cup with the tip of her pen and went back to work.
"Do you know what you're asking for?"
"Yes."
"I owe you one, that's true, but I'm no Forger, ya know."
"I know."
"What's to say that we'll even find her? It's been years, and she's probably rotting in the Void by now. What makes you think that this will even work?"
"Faith."
"Ok, it's your chance, not mine. What with the way things are going, I'm surprised that you're not trying to get out of Stygia like all the rest. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound, huh?"
"Thank you."
Tonight she wouldn't be caught short. Call it a hunch, intuition, or even foreboding, but Eve Giovanni was sure the thing would come back. She was ready this time. Never one for trite ritualism, she'd nevertheless lit three candles and placed them in a triangle in the center of the library in front of the fireplace. Maybe the thing would be drawn to appear if it saw that she'd set out a place.
It'd been more than four hours since then, and she was getting sick of sitting at the desk and watching the candles slowly burn down. This was the living limit. Why couldn't the dead just leave her alone? She wasn't Giovanni anymore; they could call her what they wanted to, renegade, antitribu, or hell, even Caitiff. It had to stop, that was all, she had to find a way to force them away, all of them, for good.
Eve noticed that a large jar had materialized in the triangle. The glass looked thick, and it had been sealed with soft metal, almost welded in place. Something was inside, swimming in air, trying to escape. Curious and terrified, she stood and picked up the jar. It began to glow dimly. Essence. That accent, the look, the thoughts, dying in a back alley after Raven pumped a clip into her chest in Celerity. Marita. It was the wraith of Marita trapped in there.
"You brought me three things. The book I hadn't noticed was gone, and I thought the bullet was to scare me. You knew that I wanted this, you knew about my wanting to kill her."
She put the jar on her desk, turned, faced the fireplace, and waited. The howling of a far-off wind filled the library, and an image began to form in the triangle. Raven was standing, head bowed, then finally lifted her eyes.
"Oh my God," Eve whispered. Her mind flashed back to Zane coming in that night, he'd been in a fight, but he had more than that to tell her. The man he'd killed has been an Assimite, and that Assimite had been very guilty of killing someone she knew. Raven was dead, murdered by the cruel assassin. Eve had cried, and Zane held her until dawn, shaking with rage over the injury to his clan.
"…had to hide…you can see us…see my kind."
"When Zane told me, I looked for you, but I thought you'd just gone. He told me you weren't haunting, and none of mine told me about you."
"…need your help now…the great storm…the towers are falling."
Eve sat back down in the chair. "Wait, why are you talking like that, kid?"
"…my voice is gone…your world cannot hear…all is silent…my words are not mine…I hear only the other voice now."
"You can talk to me, and I'll hear your real voice. Call me special that way," and Eve grinned.
For a moment, Raven seemed to be concentrating. "Can ya hear me?"
"Loud and clear, kiddo. Now, what's all this? Why did you bring me all this stuff?"
"I hadda. You don't understand what's goin' on over this side. There's all these cities and stuff, but somethin' real bad is happenin', and there's this really big storm that's commin'. I remembered that sometimes you use us Restless to do stuff, ya know, like fetch things ya need or somethin'."
"And you thought that if you brought me things that I would take you in, huh?"
The shade nodded. "Put your hand on the jar. You can read her thoughts and all. I didn't mean to kill her, it just kinda happened."
Tentatively, Eve pressed her hand against the warm glass. She closed her eyes and saw herself lying on the ground in the alley, and from the eyes through which she watched, she saw a stake in its hands. Marita was going to kill her. Raven, in a blur, whirled around and fired, and the bullets kept ripping through. Eve opened her eyes.
"Please, I'm sorry. I knew you wanted to kill her, but she was gonna get ya, and I didn't mean to move so fast. I shouldn't never have done that, and you were right to get all mad and everythin'. When I got back to Swarthmore, I wanted to say somethin' and 'pologize, but I was 'fraid you'd just laugh or somethin'."
"Raven, listen to me. That was nearly ten years ago. A lot has happened since then and a hell of a lot has changed. It's over, I've forgotten it, and I forgive you. I shot you, didn't I? Larcen told me later that I did."
"You did, but it's ok. It hurt when it happened, but not after that."
"The bullet! That's the bullet that hit you, isn't it?
Raven started to step closer, then hesitated. "I didn't die from gettin' shot, don't worry. I died 'cause someone sent a guy after me 'cause I was real sick. I'm not sick no more."
"Zane told me everything that happened."
"S-so, can ya help me?"
Eve closed her eyes again and thought. There was something about Raven's presence each time she'd appeared that had somehow driven away the wraiths of her former family members. Was it that easy to be free of them? Besides, Raven had saved her life, hadn't she, even though things had ended poorly. That, and Eve would finally have someone cooperative to go and get the things that she couldn't go out for, or when the moon was full. She remembered teaching the kid about Kindred and about ancient civilizations; it wouldn't be so bad to have Raven around again.
"Yeah, the house is yours to roam, or haunt, if you'd rather think of it that way. If I need you to do something, I'll call, but you can read any of the books anytime you want."
"I can protect the house too, ya know? Make sure you and Zane are safe in the day and all. When's he commin' back?"
Eve, had she been mortal, would have sighed. "Two days, in fact, the night after he gets back is our anniversary."
"Be careful, k?"
"What makes you say that?"
"Just a feelin' I get sometimes. It happened after I died and all. Really bad things are gonna happen, even here. But don't worry though, I'll protect you guys as best I can, I swear it!"
Raven faded away then, and Eve once more returned to her work. She had to smile though; her young friend was so naïve, it would be the beautiful evening that she'd planned for herself and Zane. What could possibly go wrong?