Kathy entered the dining car and found her travel companions already seated, apparently awaiting her arrival. Porter maintained a brief instant of eye contact before turning back to Victorrio, who sat subtly seated at the head of the table, retainer standing dutifully behind.

[i:10ee4461a2]"I apologize if I kept you gentlemen waiting."[/i:10ee4461a2] she chirped as she made her way to the seat that had obviously been set out for her. [i:10ee4461a2]"Even unlife cannot cure the curse of the morning ritual."[/i:10ee4461a2]

The ancient Ventrue smiled slightly and gestured his approval while Porter eminated a noise that could have been interpretted as either a scoff or a growl, or possibly a mixture of both.

[i:10ee4461a2]"Mr. Wilkins here has provided me with a bit of news."[/i:10ee4461a2] Victorrio carried on, motioning to the well dressed (yet notably less so than his master) gentleman behind him. He beamed with a sort of smuggish satisfaction, no doubt pleased to have earned his employers appreciation. "He received a phonecall earlier this morning from one of Gabriel's associates informing him that our dear friend has left Vienna and in now in Southern France."[/i]

Kathy's face lightened a bit with the news while Porter's visably darkened. The hackles that framed his face stiffened a bit as he envisioned the foppy, doting Kindred that he would undoubtedly soon be surrounded with.

[i:10ee4461a2]"So we're going to France now? Why doesn't Gabriel just stay put?"[/i:10ee4461a2] he grumbled, watching the trees whip by outside, breaking his vision of the moon into an almost projector like slideshow.

[i:10ee4461a2]"At this point, it's well beyond his control."[/i:10ee4461a2] Victorrio responded.

((so sleepy...will try again in a bit

((there was an odd double posting phenomena when i posted this))

Goratrix nodded to Julius.

"She is a magess as well as a Vampire," he said.

Julius nodded. "I sort of figured she had an apptitude for it."

"More than an apptitude, my friend," said Goratrix. "Why did you think I went after she and the Ventrue Michelle St.Clair?"

Julius glowered at him but then smiled. "Did you ever realize who Michelle St. Clair really was?"

Goratrix was taken slightly by surprise at this. "Who she was?" he asked. "A harlot. Nobody of consequence."

Julius laughed. "You had your ticket back into the real world in your hands and you didn't even know it."

"Don't mock me, young pup," Goratrix snarled.

Julius continued to laugh. "She was... well, IS, well, was, the Setite Anathema, Khemintiri."

If it were possible to smash the mirror from his side, Goratrix surely would have done so then. "WHAT!?!" yelled Goratrix.

He remained silent for a little while and then began to nod. "That does make sense actually," Goratrix said. This time it was Julius' turn to feel the cold stabbing of realization that something had slipped through his fingers like a snake. "Khemintiri came after her," said Julius quietly.

"Just as I 'came after her,'" said Goratrix. "She knew that she was descended from Na'anna herself Julius. She must have known."

"Are you telling me that you knew all along? That was why you abducted her?" asked Julius.

Goratrix thought a moment and then looked away. "No," he said. "I confess that the only reason that I sought her out was to see why she could do magic even though she should not have been able to. I did not realize the connection until now. Khemintiri, evidently, knew it from the start."

"If Na'anna is Ishtar, and Ishtar is Thoth, that would make Ishtar...."

"A hybrid bloodline of Toreador and Setite," concluded Goratrix. :shock:

"So then Arikel IS the true founder of the Toreador," said Julius. "Then what the hell is Eve?"

"At the farthest, the Grandchilde of Ishtar, presumably," siad Goratrix.

"And she doesn't know," mused Julius.

"No," came the cold response from Goratrix.

Julius' grip on the hammer relaxed and it fell to the floor with a thump. He wondered if what Goratrix said could be true. Perhaps Goratrix was just leading him on for some nefarious reason. He wasn't sure what to believe.

Far off in the deserts of what was known as Khem grew a sandstorm. Secreted away in one of the tombs of the Valley of Kings sat three people around a glowing brazier. A tall, well built, man sat stroking his beard looking into the fire. Next to him sat a short blond woman with short hair and the appearance of a skate punk. Behind the flame pouring over a scroll made of papyrus reed sat perhaps the most beautiful woman ever to walk the earth. Her perfect lips mouthed words in the ancient tongue of Khem. She looked up at the blond woman. "Lucinde," she commanded. "More hemp for the fire." The blond woman demurely got up and fetched the corded material and placed it into the fire. The tall man merely watched.

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Na'anna... Ishtar... Thoth..."[/i:f4a80d53a3] The words went around and around in Julius' mind, as he stared in disbelief at the ephemeral figure in the glass. There was something nagging at him, the wheels of his mind turning around and around trying to sort out the logic. All the pieces of the puzzle were there, it just needed to click into...

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Goratrix?"[/i:f4a80d53a3] Said Julius suddenly. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Cult of Thoth."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Now in turn did Goratrix stare in horror. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Indeed. Ritual. The roots of the art."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"So that would make Ishtar..."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Important. To us as well as Eve and others of her line."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Goratrix, I must know how the ritual was done. How did you make House Tremere into Clan Tremere."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Goratrix pursed his lips. [i:f4a80d53a3]"I fail to see the significance, Julius."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Do you? How is it that the kindred who were there that day are of low generation, did you all diablerize your way to power? Tremere we know, drank of Saulot's essence and you paid the end price, yet I know I am of the seventh generation, Nicolai, my sire is of the sixth, his sire Stromberg would be fifth. Stromberg's sire is unwritten, but there must have been a fourth generation Tremere to make him. Tremere did not make you, or Meerlinda or the others, so how are you of the fourth generation?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Goratrix thought for a moment. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Stromberg. He was a fine apprentice. As to the ritual..."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Julius interrupted. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Stromberg was your apprentice?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Goratrix appeared annoyed by the interruption. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Yes, what of it?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Then that would make you, my great..."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"...Grand sire.[/i:f4a80d53a3] Finished Goratrix. [i:f4a80d53a3]"I'm disappointed, I thought you would have worked it out by now. Your original question however is valid."[/i:f4a80d53a3] He continued, unabated, whilst Julius retrieved his stunned jaw from the floor. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Do close your mouth, Julius, it is most unbecoming of a childe of my line to stand gawping like an ignorant schoolboy. As you know, or should, we had... persuaded... some Tzimisce to embrace our apprentices. Most of the blood for the ritual came from them."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"That would have made thin blooded kindred indeed, once diluted with other reagents and transferred by magic, rather than the embrace. Also, why are we Tremere and not Tzimisce, what makes us different?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Tremere himself provided the blood of an Elder. We did not question it's origin, it didn't seem relevant at the time, I thought we were gaining immortality only, not becoming kindred ourselves. You can't be thinking..."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Can't I?"[/i:f4a80d53a3] Replied Julius sternly and reached for his bag. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Time to find out."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Julius set his skull upon the table next to Goratrix's mirror. The wraith's eyes widened. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Do you know what that is?"[/i:f4a80d53a3] He asked, incredulously.

[i:f4a80d53a3]"The records of the Provence Tribunal."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Answered Julius casually, as though ownership of such artifacts were commonplace. Goratrix stood and gawped. [i:f4a80d53a3]"It's been missing for..."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Shut up and let me get on."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Snapped Julius. Goratrix nodded, chastened.

Julius reached into the back again and drew forth a small mahogany box and placed it on the table with the skull. Lifting the lid revealed small phials of blood, neatly labelled by clan. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Rather precious, but mostly complete. Some, irreplaceable, but useful for reference. I forget where it all came from."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Goratrix nodded again.

Julius took a wine glass from the drinks cabinet and decanted a small amount of Tzimisce blood into it. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Our blood should taste the same as this, but we know it does not. Anyone with a basic grasp of blood magic can tell the difference between the taste of this and the taste of Tremere blood."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Agreed."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Said Goratrix, now fascinated.[i:f4a80d53a3]"I think I see where you are going with this."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"So."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Continued Julius, [i:f4a80d53a3]"If we add a tiny drop of Toreador blood and a tiny drop of Setite blood."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Julius swirled the glass and tasted a sip, using his thaumaturgy to analyze the content.

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Hmm... perhaps I was wrong. This tastes of tzim blood, with a taint."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"You are missing an ingredient, Julius."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Oh?"[/i:f4a80d53a3] Julius mentally kicked himself. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Of course. Out with it, gramps."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Gramps?"[/i:f4a80d53a3] Goratrix shook his head. [i:f4a80d53a3]"Not even the council know how I did this, Julius. Don't make the mistake of copying me. Really, I mean it."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Julius nodded gravely, as Goratrix described the ritual words to be spoken over the blood. Ancient words, in an old form of Hermetic Latin, intermingled with phrases of Ancient Egyptian.

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Where did you get these words, Gor?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"I found them in a book, all right? Yes, a book suspiciously placed where I could easily find the damn thing. Just cast the spell."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

Julius wove the magic, cleanly and precisely, then tasted the blood again.

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Well, that about wraps it up for Ishtar."[/i:f4a80d53a3] He said dryly. [i:f4a80d53a3]"I rather thought that Serpentis was a little too easy to learn."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"You're quite good at the celerity too, if I'm not mistaken. I take it there's no mistake?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"None. What you see here is Tremere blood, mixed to the original recipe."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"You understand what this means, Julius?"[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Yes. To the Toreador she is Ishtar, to the Tremere she is Thoth. Responsible, in part, for both bloodlines. Furthermore, we aren't the first to deduce it."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Meerlinda."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Said Goratrix simply.

[i:f4a80d53a3]"Meerlinda."[/i:f4a80d53a3] Echoed Julius, carefully decanting the 'Tremere' blood into a fresh phial. [i:f4a80d53a3]"I think it's time I spoke to Eveshka. Is she ever gonna be pissed."[/i:f4a80d53a3]

[i:e141e68d0b]"Victorrio,"[/i:e141e68d0b] Kathy said, looking up from her carefully prepared meal that served as breakfast. Assorted fruits and meats were strewn on fine China bearing the carefully pinned 'Orient Express' emblems upon their edges. Of course the elaborate feast was mainly an extravagant tactic to keep a strictly 'human' profile on the trio.

Flagons of exotic bloods obviously gained through great expense were subtly placed by each plate and sat ready for consumption. They took on a vision of movement as the passing scenery outside the train was reflected on their surfaces. Victorrio, from his position at the head, turned an emotionless face towards Kathy.

[i:e141e68d0b]"Yes Katherine?"[/i:e141e68d0b] he said with a tone that was almost prompting. His long, almost alien-like, fingers rose from the table and met his pale, pursed lips.

[i:e141e68d0b]"What did you mean last night when you said Gabriel was more important than we realized?"[/i:e141e68d0b] she asked, placing a carefully cut bit of venison into her mouth and following it with a healthy gulp of blood.

Porter, who had until then been struggling with the collar on his shirt, looked to Kathy in surprise. For once the befumbling foppish Toreador had been on the precise track as he. Gabriel was after all the only valid link between the two Cainites. For no other would he suffer such indignities.

[i:e141e68d0b]"It would be to Gabriel's advantage if you discovered that on your own."[/i:e141e68d0b] came Victorrio's vague reply. He motioned for his retainer to remove his plate from in front of him.

[i:e141e68d0b]"How would that benefit Gabriel?"[/i:e141e68d0b] Porter spoke at last. The Gangrel's hair had returned to him during the day, via Caine's curse. His Ventrue host however, had already made arrangements for it to be cut.

[i:e141e68d0b]"The two of you are safe so long as you are unaware of Gabriel's true purpose."[/i:e141e68d0b] Victorrio stood and moved deftly towards Kathy, taking her hand and leading her towards the door. [i:e141e68d0b]"Now, we'll have to switch trains in order to reach Marseilles by tomorrow night. I'll have your things packed Katherine, I only ask that you be ready by dusk."[/i:e141e68d0b]

[i:e141e68d0b]"Of course."[/i:e141e68d0b] she replied.

[i:e141e68d0b]"Victorrio..."[/i:e141e68d0b] Porter said, standing and tossing his still folded napkin upon the table.

[i:e141e68d0b]"Tut tut my dear guest...all will be revealed with time's good graces."[/i:e141e68d0b]

Porter found himself falling silent with a bit more ease than he would've expected. The strange ancient slipped from the cabin with a pair of final goodbye's and left the two alone once again.

[i:e141e68d0b]"Blasted Ventrue...the older they grow the more cryptic they become."[/i:e141e68d0b] he grumbled.

The cabin lights flickered on as the train was enveloped once more in darkness and the roar of the tracks loudened as they were engulfed in a tunnel. Ahead lay Marseilles, and as the two Kindred were hurled into the weeping night, they could only wonder what lay in store.

The soft, bending streets of Marseille had begun to blend together as Gabriel strolled along. The storefronts, consisting of a great many pubs and cafe's, kept his attention long enough for him to forget his problems.

He had barely taken notice as the storm clouds had welled up like armies and had unleashed their torrents upon him. It was only when he realized he was almost alone on the sidewalks, Marseilles' inhabitants having fled inside long ago, that he actually took notice of the drenched city through which he walked.

The youthful Ventrue slipped into the nearest open building and quickly removed his coat, letting the water trail him like a lost pup. The building was warmly decorated in contrast to the bleakness of the storm outside. Yellow and faint browns coated the open room. Dimmed lights hung from the ceiling, strategically placed over large picture frames that were placing evenly on the walls.

The miniature art gallery seemed oddly devoid of patrons this evening, but Gabriel took advantage of his solitude and began to peruse the gallery at his discretion. The pieces were unusual, landscape mostly, most of the artists weren't even French. He would be the first to admit he wasn't too well versed in art history, but Gabriel felt he knew it well enough to identify what was a masterpiece and what was pure shlock.

He eventually found himself motionless in front of an aging German piece, staring blankly into it's depths. It depicted a youth out hunting, late 17th century apparently judging by his stockings and jerkin. He was poised idly against a great twisting oak, his musket serving as his cane. A look of pure lethargy was cast on his face, and he stared off into the depths of the forest.

A small brown and white dog sat at his feet, dutifully ready for his master's command. The young hunter looked well to do, with the air of a noble. But what had held Gabriel's attention for so long was nearly a speck in the background. Wedged between two trees who's tops were soaked in darkness, a tiny depiction of a castle was barely visible. It's strong, royal towers were distinctly clear though, a red banner hung from the portcullis.

The young Ventrue stood in the dimlight, his dark exaggerated features drawn further by the shadows.

[i:d59b868bad]"Not many appreciate that particular piece."[/i:d59b868bad]

Broken from his trance, Gabriel turned to see a familiar figure next to him. An older woman with sagging jowels, her once blonde hair turned an almost platinum white was tightly pulled back on her scalp. A black, woolen sweater stretched itself over a short, rotund body. Not even Caine's blood could draw all the fat from this Toreador.

[i:d59b868bad]"Mirabella?"[/i:d59b868bad] Gabriel said slowly, beginning to recall the old acquantance. The century old Toreador was a victim of time and the fickle art scene of Paris. Before the turn of the 19th, in his more 'primitive' days, Gabriel had many a night gorged himself on the orgies of the French aristocracy. Success brought wealth, and wealth brough powerful allies.

While he had been courting one of France's well to do ladies, there had been quite a stir about a local artisan, a woman none the less. Soon she had gathered admirers from across the country and had made quite a comfortable living. It wasn't long before she was brought into Clan Toreador for her talents. The length of time before she was spat out of high society was even shorter.

The local influx of more abstract methods put her out of the limelight, and Gabriel had lost track of her. But it seems that she had been content to return to her roots.

[i:d59b868bad]"Gabriel if I remember correctly."[/i:d59b868bad] she said, a gentle smile on her wrinkled face.

The cypherings of the Ancient Ventrue sat on Porter’s brow like a fat, heavy fly. He itched to swat at it, but as the train rattled on, his mind was pulled upon from another direction.

Breakfast had been a cumbersome affair. He’d ignored the fine cuts of meat, and had merely drawn in the sweet scents of the fruit. Choosing instead to simply drink blood, even though the cold, clinging, thickness of it made his Beast gag. He nodded reluctantly as Victorrio had left, another riddle in his wake.

[i:c00e099cc8]“Porter? What do you think he means?”[/i:c00e099cc8] Kathy’s eyes looked doe-like as she tried herself to decypher Victorrio’s message.

Porter stabbed an unused fork into a slice of roasted ham, playing with it before looking up.

[i:c00e099cc8]“I wish I knew, Kathy. All this waiting, all these games, are wearing me out. I want to do something. This sitting around is killing me.”[/i:c00e099cc8] He was in no mood for any silliness.

[i:c00e099cc8]“Me too, Porter. Me too. We might as well enjoy the time we’re wasting though.”[/i:c00e099cc8] She forced a smile, though he could see from the blackness in her eyes, that her mood was for once indicative of his own.

He stood then, sliding open the nearest window to breathe in something of the landscape’s perfume. Anything to get his bearings. The train’s clackety-clack was at first deafening, drowning his other senses. But as he concentrated, he filtered through the kaleidoscope of rushing smells, memorising a select few.

Outside, the fields and hedgerows seemed to swelter. The night was suffering in the season’s heat.

Maybe Kathy should have told Victorrio that she knew where Gabriel was,they constantly kept in touch via email, using the laptops that they had bought for each other as a gift just before he had left Cascadia.

Kathy looked nonchantly out of the window, but then Victorrio had seem so well informed who was she to correct him on Gabriel's whereabouts.

Her slender fingers typed rapidly on the laptop that balanced precariously on her knee, first an email to Connor, informing him that she was in france and would drop in to see him at the earliest opportunity and one to Gabe simply saying that she would see him soon ...very soon .


[i:65a6047b1a]" Do you not find that technology can sometimes take over your life and make one lazy and dependant?"[/i:65a6047b1a] his rough coarse voice made her jump somewhat and she looked at him as he stood in the doorway or the compartment, her eyes berating him for startling her so.

[i:65a6047b1a]" Really porter, how else is one supposed to keep up with the modern world that will live in?"[/i:65a6047b1a] her finger hit the send button and she smiled at him.

He simply scoffed at her and muttered under his breath about returning to the old times when life was good and their kind didn't have to feel like they belonged in this new modern world.
Her eyes flashed merrily as she added [i:65a6047b1a]" I would show you how to use a laptop but I'm afraid your claws, I mean nails may interfere with the keys"[/i:65a6047b1a]

The glass panes of the solarium in the mansion reflected the city lights of distant El Paso, in the desert of New Mexico, as if they were vibrant diamonds sprinkled on an alluring woman's black velvet gown. The evening's show of sunset was long over and much yet needed to be accomplished. Mirrored in the reflective panels was the image of a man of average height, wavy blond hair thrown back from the brow but tending to slip down to cover one eye as if it were a pirate's eye-patch. His shoulders were broad but the torso tapered down to a nipped in waist and flared briefly at the hips. The whole picture was that of a middle-aged, fit man with a square face and benevolent eyes.

In his left hand was a glass of red liquid which he sipped from periodically whilst gazing at the spendor before him. A masculine-style heavy ring winked from the pinkie of that off-hand and the right one was comfortably esconced in a pocket of the tweed jacket he wore over a black turtleneck of stretch material. Tan Dockers with knife pleats and black loafers completed the picture. The gentleman glanced at the Rolex on his wrist then smiled to himself.

[i:356a4e2ae7]"Hmm......my "guest" should be awake by now. Time to return to my endeavors."[/i:356a4e2ae7] He set down the drink on a nearby fragile looking table and departed the room.

Making his way into the kitchen and through a side door into the cellar, he closed and locked it from the inside and continued downward to the room he'd vacated just 30 mins. ago. At the bottom was a darkened hall of short duration and another door at the end. He rapped upon in in a coded pattern and the door was quickly opened to him. Inside was an exquistely lovely woman.

She was sculpted into an hour-glass figure, long legs to wrap themselves around a man's waist and raven black hair with strands of silver peeking through. A long, oval face of delicate features perched upon invitingly bared shoulders with the remainder wrapped in a wisp of yellow gauze that barely covered the breasts as it criss-crossed at the throat before fastening at the nape of the neck. No undergarments were visible. The skirt of the single-piece dress came to rest just above the knees and gold eyeshadow completed the whole.

[i:356a4e2ae7]"Serai, is our guest awakened yet?"[/i:356a4e2ae7]

[i:356a4e2ae7]"Not quite, sir. He's just beginning to come around."[/i:356a4e2ae7] Her eyes sparkled with expectancy.

Crossing the room to the reclining figure on the wooden framework, the host looked down to the moaning piece of meat that used to be a Sabbat member. Reaching out he lightly tapped the face with fingers of suddenly sharpened nails. Mr. Rogan chose that moment to pay attention. Serai approached in a whisper of material and a faint cloud of talcum powder.

[i:356a4e2ae7]"I see you've finally chosen to grace us with your presence, Mr. Rogan. Welcome back. Shall we take up where we left off.................??"[/i:356a4e2ae7] The master's cultured voice trailed off in query and he lifted an eyebrow.. The response was a gratification of widened eyes as the brain telegraphed that the situation was real and not just a hideous nightmare. A pregnant pause filled the room.

[i:356a4e2ae7]"Oh, come now, sir. I ask you again to tell me what I wish to know and I promise that,[/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]you,[/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7]my dear Rogan, will walk out of here with a whole skin. Free as a bird, I promise you. And I[/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]do[/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7][i:356a4e2ae7]keep my promises."[/i:356a4e2ae7] The man smiled tenderly into those terrified eyes as he ran his roughened and calloused hand down the chest of his visitor.

The palm scraped across an expanse of skinless pectoral muscles and visibly beating veins. The mouth attached to this display of a humanoid anatomy screamed satisfyingly and the arms and legs thrashed uselessly against the wooden stakes placed through each wrist and ankle. Once the shrieking man had again quieted, the attentive man signaled to his assistance. Her face impassive throughout the ordeal, she nodded briefly and turned away to pick up a metal, stoppered bottle from a nearby counter.

[i:356a4e2ae7]"You know,"[/i:356a4e2ae7] the tormentor began conversationally, [i:356a4e2ae7]"you Sabbat are tested and trained to withstand a lot of pain."[/i:356a4e2ae7] He licked his lips in an unconscious gesture of anticipation, [i:356a4e2ae7]"That's what makes you such delightful subjects to experiment with. You last a [/i:356a4e2ae7][i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]long[/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7]time and the results are so.......delicious."[/i:356a4e2ae7] The last word ended on a sigh. [i:356a4e2ae7]"However,"[/i:356a4e2ae7] the host straightened and became brisk, [i:356a4e2ae7]"as I have promised. Mr Rogan will leave here in one piece and with my blessings, should you give the information that I desire. As I have promised, so shall I honor my word."[/i:356a4e2ae7] The last sentence was intoned in formal speech as if sworn before judges.

[i:356a4e2ae7]"The alternative, I might point out, is in my lovely assistant's hand."[/i:356a4e2ae7] He gestured toward the object in Serai's hand. [i:356a4e2ae7]"Acid, Mr. Rogan, acid."[/i:356a4e2ae7] The was another quiet pause while the eyes of the subject stared at the glittering vessel as if they couldn't tear themselves away. The master pulled that hypnotized gaze back to his own countenance and leaned in close until he was close enough to breath into the slack jawed mouth. [i:356a4e2ae7]"I've always wanted a courageous spirit to test this little project of mine. To see what happens when acid splashes onto exposed muscles and flesh."[/i:356a4e2ae7]

[i:356a4e2ae7]"Oh, you[/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]can[/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7]heal yourself if I just did it a little drop at a time, but that would be such a waste of blood. What if, Mr. Rogan, I were to "write" you name with it? Now wouldn't that be lovely?"[/i:356a4e2ae7] The fiend's tongue reached out and gently licked the agonized lips before placing a seductive kiss on them, then straightened, awaiting the answer.

The body commenced jerking and convulsing as the subject tried insanely to seek escape. The two well-dressed people watched, seemingly without interest, but another vampire in the room would have picked up the subtle signs of increasing sexual tension. A look passed between the well-dressed man and his paramour. When the test subject's activity faded into shivers and rapid panting, the command was given, [i:356a4e2ae7]"Serai, if you would.............."[/i:356a4e2ae7]

[i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]"NO, WAIT!![/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7]I.........."[/i:356a4e2ae7] The two froze in place while Mr. Rogan gasped for more breath, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head again. Neither of the two figures moved or spoke, for all they had the appearance of statues. Once the body on the table subsided again, he spoke haltingly at first and then more rapidly. [i:356a4e2ae7]"The.....trailer....... tomorrow night.......it's.....cargo of.......illegals from across the Mexico...... US.....border. There will be.......blood feast to........welcome new members....to the pack. Please, I've told you......what you want to know. Please, let me go! You[/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]PROMISED!!"[/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] The last was said on a rising scream.

[i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]"AAAHHH!![/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7]Thank you very much, Mr. Rogan. I am in your debt. And, as I promised, you will walk away from here. Your skin restored, your face intact, a free man.........or, should I say, a free vampire. I[/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7][b:356a4e2ae7]DO[/b:356a4e2ae7][/i:356a4e2ae7] [i:356a4e2ae7]keep my promises."[/i:356a4e2ae7] The smile on the interrogator's face was not pleasant or nice, it was wolfish.

Stepping back from the special rack, Mr. Rogan's nightmare raised his hands to his face and began pushing and pulling features into place. Nipping and tucking here and there, smoothing out lines, occassionally glancing to the woman. She would either shake her head or smile winningly. The hair grew longer until it matched the length of the hair on the head resting on the torture bench and then thickened slightly to that of a much younger man. Body mass shifted until it was that same as that of the person on the table, only more healthy and hale, the skin still molded to the upper body rather than missing like that of the unfortunate Sabbat man.

Shedding the now baggy clothes, the gentleman picked up the clothing they'd stripped from their victim earlier and donned them. They fit like a glove. Approaching Mr. Rogan once more, he grinned wickedly, [i:356a4e2ae7]"As you can see, dear sir, I keep my promises. Mr Rogan will walk away from here as if he'd never been gone."[/i:356a4e2ae7] He looked over at the handmaid and made a gesture in the direction of the now gibbering and insane creature, [i:356a4e2ae7]"Serai, he's all yours. Do keep notes, my love, and I will require details, later. Much later."[/i:356a4e2ae7] A promise gleamed in those foreign eyes and the ghoul kissed the palm of her hand, pursed her lips and blew a saucy kiss.

Mr. Rogan turned away and strode from the room, up the stairs, through the house, pausing long enough to down the remainder of the drink left in the solarium and then out of the house.

Porter had chosen not to rise to the Toreador wench’s jibe. Instead he merely shrugged off the comment and watched the landscape roll by through her window. He noticed the rolling fields were beginning to become less plain-like, and were becoming more like pockets of green among clusters of houses. The change continued, accompanied by the arrival of their personal steward.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Monsieur Porter? Mademoiselle Belvadere? We will be arriving in Marseilles presently. I do hope you have enjoyed your journey with us. Is there anything I can do for you to make your departure more comfortable?”[/i:6de7191a0e] Porter’s lips became curled as he grinned. Kathy would have stopped him had she known what he was intending, but he’d uttered it before she could react.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Actually yes, Rodin. Get a life.”[/i:6de7191a0e] He turned his back on the startled, French uniformed youth. Were he in wolf form he would likely have peed on the youngster’s shoes too.

Kathy could only apologise as the steward left speechless at such an affront.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Please forgive my companion. He is under a lot of stress.”[/i:6de7191a0e] Porter snorted at her piss-poor explanation.

The train whistled and belched smoke as it entered the station. Curling gold painted steel architecture, marbled flooring, and elegant lighting welcomed the coterie as they disembarked groggily. Although the others bore the weight of luggage and belongings, Porter simply wore a loose but smart suit. The sheen of the metallic blue silk made him look all the more ridiculous, or so he thought.

[i:6de7191a0e]“You look radiant as always, Katherine.”[/i:6de7191a0e] Victorrio complimented her choice of dress. However, for such an expression of familiarity and warmth, his face remained cold and sterile.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Thank you, Victorrio. I must say, your tailor has done wonders. Even for our disgruntled friend here.”[/i:6de7191a0e] She motioned at Porter who merely snarled.

[i:6de7191a0e]“I’ll meet you both at the hotel tomorrow evening. All this pompous tomfoolery has taken it out of me. I need to spread my wings.”[/i:6de7191a0e] Porter exclaimed matter of factly.

He nodded to Victorrio, the ancient’s eyes reflecting in understanding. He repeated the nod to Kathy, though with less of a respectful tone.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Of course, Porter. How ignorant of me to realise how stressful you must find our ways. Please do take care. Remember, this is Marseilles, not America.”[/i:6de7191a0e] Victorrio returned the nod, turning to beckon the attention of a taxi driver.

Kathy moved towards Porter, stopping just within reach.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Porter. If you’re going to do what I think you are. Tell him I love him.”[/i:6de7191a0e] She wasn’t for once, furtive about her feelings. For once her frankness met with his approval.

[i:6de7191a0e]“Understood. [b:6de7191a0e]If[/b:6de7191a0e] I see him, that is.”[/i:6de7191a0e]

He walked away then, disappearing into the city streets as a fresh, thundery downpour began to assault the city.

Eveshka again sat on a bench watching the Rhone slip quietly by. Julius had come and gone to the hotel in which she stayed. He hadn't mentioned much about what he was doing, but he showed her a dutiful amount of attention. She was as happy as she could be she supposed.

So she watched young lovers walk past, she watched moonlight cruise tour ships motor back and forth along the river. Dressed uncharacteristically in blue jeans, sneakers, and a hooded sweat shirt, she walked along the Rhone and wondered what sorts of things would be going on this evening. It was, after all, New Years Eve. Another year in a whole string of years of existence would be added. Two Thousand Three. Good God how the time flew.

So much was going on in the world. So many things. Could they be coincidences? She wished they were, but knew that they were not. The God she wished to serve, but knew she probably never could, still went forward with His divine plans oblivious to one lost sheep. Or maybe what was going on was bigger than God. Maybe God himself was one of the sheep. That would explain why he was such a worthless Shepherd now wouldn't it.

A newspaper lay on the ground in her path. She kicked it out of the way but then stopped and picked it up and read the headlines. [i:79a1585db9][b:79a1585db9] NERVE AGENTS USED IN TEL AVIV ATTACK, ISRAEL VOWS REVENGE [/b:79a1585db9][/i:79a1585db9] Well. she thought, there goes the middle east. Although the War in Iraq had gone on much longer, and had been much bloodier than the Coalition had promised, she had long since stopped following it. That may have been a mistake.

She turned blindly down a few sidestreets until she came across an all night internet cafe. "Cafe Mocha, s'il te plait," Eveshka ordered. She payed a few Euros for the coffee and then paid a few more for access to a computer terminal. After navigating the usual crap advertisements she made it to a news data base. Oddly enough it was Pravda, the Russian government herald. Hmmmm, so the Russians have backed out of the Coalition against Iraq. Not a bad move really. It seemed that the Chechen rebels had been active of late. How.... predictable. The Russian Military is still on high alert but seems to have gone to the assistance of Turkey. That didn't make sense.

She skimmed several more articles and discovered that oddly enough every country IN the Coalition had bailed out on the US and the British. Egypt was again gearing up for a war footing against Israel. What the hell? That made no sense either.

Eveshka paid several more Euros to continue poking around on the internet. In an article published by the Israeli State Geological Ministry (( just go with it :P )) she discovered that several US led oil drilling firms had been active in the waters off Tel Aviv and in the northern section of the Dead Sea with diamond tipped drills. Oil. They found oil. [i:79a1585db9] Hmmmm. let's see here, "after several weeks of drilling, preliminary surveys indicate," yada yada.... etc... etc.. "it is thought to be the same deposit stretching from the Dead Sea through to the Mediterreanean." Holy shit. "..could be the largest known deposit of oil outside of the mostly untapped Siberian fields."[/i:79a1585db9]

Eveshka looked up in surprise. That was it wasn't it? That was what would bring the armies of Gog and Magog into open war against Israel. They had to get moving. They were running out of time. She looked over at the clock. It had been 6 hours. New Years had come and gone. All of western humanity was out partying. Maybe Julius was right. Maybe Trom had been right all along. Maybe she was just paranoid. She logged off and paid the extra money to the bored looking attendant. The sky was still dark but not quite deserted. Eveshka walked back towards the river. For some reason she always thought better near water. It was soothing to her. She sat back down at the same bench she was at earlier and started mulling over the details in her head. Her thoughts were interrupted by a gruff voice from behind her.

"Old Woman?" came the voice.

She turned around and saw the one eyed gangrel from several lifetimes ago. The Gangrel who had once courted her now destroyed Childe, Maryushka. It was Porter. Eveshka smiled and her hand went up to the plain pendant that hanged around her neck. It had once belonged to Porter's mother. Odd that she should wear it tonight and then run into him.

"Porter?" she said in surprise. She was not overly warm with her welcome, yet, she was not cold either. She was wary. Eve could not tell if Porter was still an ally or if he had another agenda now.

Julius sat silently in "his" hotel. Eve was not with the program, he couldn't get through to her, she wasn't listening, she wasn't talking either. He could see where this was going. Eveshka was about to go off on one of her joy rides into some new kind of madness. The signs were all there to see. Meanwhile, doubtless he would be expected to support her and try to keep [b:cef3755605]his[/b:cef3755605] work, which should have been [b:cef3755605]their[/b:cef3755605] work going. Normally, he could cope with this. Right now, there was too much going on. He needed to get to Mistridge and find whatever it was Goratrix wanted there. Things were simply moving to fast to pander to Eveshka's whims. The room reverberated with a heavy thud, as his fist hit the desk to signal his head overriding his heart. Julius took pen and paper.

[i:cef3755605]My Dearest Eveshka,

I have so much to tell you, that I don't know where to begin. Since leaving Touraine you've become increasingly distant and distracted until now it's impossible to talk to you. I tried when I visited you, after receiving your letter, but you weren't listening. I've uncovered a multitude of painful truths, about the distant past and the effects it has upon you and I now, in the present. We need to focus, love, and persue the quest your scroll has set us upon. Maybe it leads to Ishtar, maybe it leads to something she left for her descendants. Whatever there is to find, we must find it, before others do. I dare not wait. I am heading with Morathi and Goratrix to Mistridge where I can continue this line of research. Contact me soon, don't leave it until it is too late.

Evey, my love, beware Meerlinda. She knows more than we ever realised and plots, I believe to own both our clans. I hope this, if nothing else, will help you to see the necessary urgency of our quest. It's not just about us anymore. I'm not sure it ever really was.

All my love,

Julius[/i:cef3755605]

Julius folded the sheet and placed it in an envelope, then took a second sheet.

[i:cef3755605]Gabriel,

I'm desperately worried about Eveshka. She's not being herself. I cannot stay, here, information has come into my possession which must be clarified and immediately. I would treat it as a personal favour if you would remain in Marseilles and watch over Eve. Contact me immediately if things get any worse. I will return as soon as I can and fill you in on these developments.

Wish me luck,

Julius
[/i:cef3755605]

The second sheet was placed in a separate envelope and both sealed, with wax and magic. The first he delivered to Eveshka's hotel, slipping it under her door, in her absence. The second he left for Gabriel in their hotel.

Morathi entered the room with her typical sinous grace. [i:cef3755605]"The hire car is here, Julius."[/i:cef3755605]

Julius nodded. [i:cef3755605]"We had better pack up Goratrix then."[/i:cef3755605]

[i:cef3755605]"I'm not a piece of furniture."[/i:cef3755605] Protested the ancient wizard.

[i:cef3755605]"That's exactly what you are, Goratrix. You are just a piece of furniture."[/i:cef3755605] Concluded Julius as he threw the blanket over the mirror.

The sodium vapour lights cast an orange tint over the old port that was home to near on 1,200 pleasure and fishing boats. The Bastions of Fort Saint Nicholas, still home to the french foreign legion, and Fort Saint Jean still stood , as if jealousy guarding the port from invaders and marauders.

The hotel Vieux Port stood directly across from the port and Kathy drunk in the atmosphere as she leaned on the iron balcony of her rooms. Young couples walked along, their arms entwined around each others waist, stopping occasionally to kiss tenderly, a faint smile broke her almost solemn face as she watched then, almost jealously. How long had it being now? Too long she mused as she broke her gaze and watched as people walked their dogs and generally went about their business.

Vicotorrio had accompanied her to her suite and told her that he would be just down the corridor, if she needed anything at all, from anyone else she would have found this appealing, but his manner was sometimes very cold and aloof and Kathy got the strongest feeling that he was hiding something. She had been tempted to try and find out but was quite frankly scared of questioning him and had decided that time would tell.

Besides , she imagined that he would rather remain in his suite rather than venture out .

Kathy sat on the bed and flicked through a magazine and stopped as an review caught her eye.

The new opera "Writing to Vermeer," by Louis Andriessen and Peter Greenaway, reminds us that artists with distinctive personalities heed their inner voices no matter what's happening around them. An example is Johannes Vermeer (1632-75), a Renaissance painter who specialized in quiet domestic scenes even when social and political turbulence afflicted his Dutch homeland.
The action is propelled by a series of letters supposedly sent to Vermeer in 1672 by members of his household while he was away on business. Actually written by Greenaway, the letters tell of household news - one of his models is looking for a husband, one of the children had an accident - and seem oblivious to the outside world, despite the fact that Holland is suffering from a crash in the tulip market and a threat of French invasion.
The domestic side of the story is conveyed by the letters (sung to Andriessen's score) and by stage tableaux that gorgeously capture Vermeer's pictorial style. The sociopolitical events are presented via films projected onto large screens - cinematic "windows" revealing a ferocious world that's larger than the household that normally shelters the painter and his brood.


Kathy’s face lit up with intrepidation, that’s what she was going to do tonight, go to the opera, and hopefully Victorrio would accompany her.


She walked determinedly along the corridor to his suite and knocked on the door, surely his manners would not allow her to go to the opera on her own.

[i:91a1a1ffef]"Come In Katherine"[/i:91a1a1ffef] His deep resonant voice called from the balcony.
Kathy looked at him, her resolute manner somewhat diminishing as she looked at him.

[i:91a1a1ffef]"what can I do for you Dear?"[/i:91a1a1ffef]

kathy visibly flinched at the word and he laughed lowly.

[i:91a1a1ffef]"I'm sorry, I had forgotten your dislike towards that term of endearment"[/i:91a1a1ffef]

[i:91a1a1ffef]"I was wondering if you would accompany to the opera, it's one that I would love to see but am reluctant to go see it on my own " [/i:91a1a1ffef]she smiled warmly and he looked at her, he could see why she seemed to have captured Gabriel's heart so wholly.

He had wanted to catch up on his paperwork and correspondence but her face looked so eager to go and not just merely for pleasure, there was an underlying need for her to go, a personal reason that he could not fathom out unless he went delving into her mind and that he was not willing to do just to satisfy his own inquisitiveness.

[i:d77db5a7c4]"I would love to accompany you Kathy,and what are we going to see and I can make reservations "[/i:d77db5a7c4]

Her face lit up and she told him animatedly about the opera as she sat on the overstuffed sofa, even telling him that she had managed to collect some pieces by Vermeer,as she spoke her face took on a somewhat saddened look and even her tone of voice became subdued.


Victorrio watched her, he had been right then, there was some deep personal reason that she wanted to go to the opera tonight, he would not pry though, that would not be polite.

Kathy looked up and caught him looking at her and realised that she had been talking non stop and had began to sink into melancholy as she did so.

[i:d77db5a7c4]" well if you can make the reservations, I do hope there is tickets left, I will go and get ready"[/i:d77db5a7c4]

She said brightly changing her mood by will.

[i:d77db5a7c4]" I will be able to get tickets so yes you go and do what you must and I will call for you say in an hour?"[/i:d77db5a7c4]