Club Purgatory: where the rich and powerful came to play with the young and beautiful Children of the Night. It was a place of hedonistic pleasures, vices gone berserk, and excess taken to exponential degrees. Techno music pounded out from the state of the art sound system as Europe's top DJ's vied for the prestige of working the tables. Tonight it was Kindaar, direct from Amsterdam. He had the crowd whipped into a frenzy of drugged up delight. Many didn't even bother to find secluded darkly lit areas of the club to enjoy their partners. Nope, here they just fucked right out in the open. The police turned a blind eye to the place. Everyone did. It was as if the place didn't exist unless you knew about it.

Many came each night.

Slightly less than the amount who arrived ever left.

Clad only in a chainmail corset, a divine looking being strode out onto the balcony overlooking the dance floor flanked by two gorgeous men who were nicely but not overly muscled, and two gorgeous women who could easily have been centerfolds in an over rated American "gentlemen's" magazine. Who knows, they probably were. The divine beauty held the four of them on leashes in her right hand. A soft smile lit her angelic face. These were four of the newest arrivals. One of the men was from Los Angeles, the other from Stuttgart. One of the women was from Montreal, the other from Bordeaux.

"Erich," spoke the woman to the blond German.

"Yes Mistress," he responded.

"Get me a toy. Take Melanie with you," she said indicating the dark haired woman from Montreal.

She released their leashes but pulled Melanie in for a kiss. Melanie freely responded.

Moments later the two returned with a male in tow.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Paul," he responded. He'd come to the club for several weeks now and had caught glimpses of the mindblowingly beautiful proprietess. He;d even caught her eye on a few occasions and was blessed with a dazzling smile that got him off on the spot.

She held out a hand to him and gently led him to the railing of the balcony. All at once the music stopped and all eyes were upon them. Unnecessarily, a spotlight flashed onto them and lit them up.


"Another night in your midst," she said to the masses. "I am the luckiest girl in the world. To have such adoring and devoted followers, what have I done to deserve this?"

As one they cheered and began to chant her name... "EVE...EVE...EVE....EVE....EVE."

They continued to chant as she pulled Paul in close.

"Will you be a willing sacrifice?" she asked him with desire burning in her eyes. "I will take you to Heaven before it's done, I swear to you."

The man nodded. She led him away to the cheering of the crowd. Into her private chambers they went. He did indeed experience heaven before she was done with him. Just like she promised. It was a very satisfied corpse that left the building that morning to be cremated. It went without a hitch. It always did. She knew it would only be a matter of time before too much attention was drawn to her little province, but she didn't care. She was enjoying herself. She was Eveshka, Comtesse de Touraine, and she would not be denied.... anything.

Welcome back, dear. :)

thanks for the story/.. benn watiing for a goood one ..

thanks evey

[i:5923aedfa4] Back in the parallel universe that is completely unaffiliated with any other SoC threads..... [/i:5923aedfa4]

In Paris, the council of Toreador met at the palace of Renee Delacroix, Prince of Paris. All the High Council were persent, the Justicar, all the archons, and the Princes from the major Toreador cities acros the globe.

"My sisters and brothers," began Renee. "As Prince of the host city I would like to welcome you all to my domain."

There was polite and appreciative applause.

"We all know why we are here.... namely to discuss what is to be done with the errant province of Touraine, and what is to be done with the Pretender who has started her own line styled," Renee stopped and looked at a piece of paper before continuing, "yes, the 'Daughters of Ishtar.'"

Madame Guil, the Justicar, stood up and all fell silent.

"I would like it known," she said. "That Lady Eveshka, until recently has done nothing improper. Nor has she, to our knowledge, broken the Masquerade at any point, nor has she committed acts of treason against the Toreador Clan by divulging secrets and trusts to those who would use that information against us."

Renee nodded. "I do not, nor does anyone here claim that she has acted dishonourably in regards to her previous oaths and obligations. What we are here to discuss is how to treat the threat that has arisen in the form of her Blood Cult."

Murmuring and grumbling passed over the assembly at these words.

From the High Council came the musical sounding voice of a tall handsome African man, clad in the robes of a house long dead. The power within this Methuselah seemed pour out into the room.

"Blood Cults, circles of human slavery, trafficking in narcotics, prostitution, pornography...." he said in a low said voice. "Where is the art here? Where is the beauty for which she was so reknowned? She sounds as if she has become a Follower of Set. Perhaps she is the consort of Khemintiri again."

One of the ARchons spoke up saying, "That is not a possibility. We have proof that Khemintiri has finally and truly left this plane of existence."

"You mean she has met Final Death?" asked the African.

"No, My Lord, she has literally left this dimension."

"Ahh," the African mused. "The prophecy of Shal Ka-Mense."

"With your permission, My Lord," said Renee, and got a regal nod from the African. "Eveshka's night clubs are again burgeoning across Europe and there is one reopened in the United States once again. With the opening of those nightclubs has come increased support for Eveshka and her Bloodline. Major players in business and in government are her thralls. We've been in touch with the Ventrue and they have come to the same conclusion. She is unbalancing the entire system."

"What of the Sabbat?" asked another member of the High Council.

Madame Guil answered, "To our knowledge she has given them no support and they do not have any presence at all in Touraine. Indeed from our intelligence, it seems that they do not have any presence whatsoever anywhere that she goes. She simply eradicates them."

There was silence.

The tall African stood up. "Why then has the olive branch of peace not been extended to our wayward sister?" He looked at Renee as her aura flashed angrily. "Still jealous are we Renee? You've ever been in her shadow. Perhaps we made a mistake in not offering her a seat on the council but instead tried to relagate her to a puppet realm."

MAdame Guil nodded.

"You Madame Guil," intoned the deep musical voice of the African. "Have ever been her champion, but why did you not offer her an Archonship where she could have truly been worthy?"

"She would not have taken it, My Lord. Eveshka was always one to need to be the center of attention. An Archonship would not have given her the satisfaction of being the brightest star in the heavens."

"Is that what she wants?" asked the African to the assembly. "To be the brightest star in the heavens?"

Madame Guil spoke up after a few moments of silence. "I think she wants to BE the Heavens. I think she truly wants all of creation to worship her."

"That could indeed be a problem," said the African. "I think that we should offer her a way back into the fold. She could be a true asset if placed on a leash. The Toreador could again rise to rule the world. How large is her following now?"

"Several hundred ghouls at least," said Renee. "We think she has sired at least twenty new childer. All women. All beautiful. She has also gotten very xenophobic of late. It is damned near impossible to get at her. Her clubs are invitation only and the security is ...." she trailed off.

"The Olive Branch it is," commanded the African.


[i:5923aedfa4] In Tours, several nights later in her palatial offices Club Purgatory... [/i:5923aedfa4]

A beautiful young woman wearing practically nothing came into Eveshka's office and handed her a sealed parchment envelope. Eveshka looked at it with a look of shock. "This is from the Toreador High Council," she said. The young woman looked surprised. She'd never seen her Mistress look shaken before.

"What is it My Lady?"

"They have invited me to Paris and have offered the Olive Branch as an oath of safety." Her eyes narrowed a little bit. "Get my things ready, Chere. We are going to Paris for the weekend."

[b:a7e9ab6699][i:a7e9ab6699]Somewhere in Switzerland[/i:a7e9ab6699][/b:a7e9ab6699]

As George left the room, Francis turned to a wide eyed kindred who was arranging barbie dolls and action men into adult poses. [i:a7e9ab6699]"How do your kind achieve Golconda anyway?"[/i:a7e9ab6699]

[i:a7e9ab6699]"You know shit, Francis."[/i:a7e9ab6699] Came the reply. For emphasis, he bit the head off one of the dolls and swallowed it. [i:a7e9ab6699]"Would anyone else like one?"[/i:a7e9ab6699] He asked. Around the table, other kindred shook their heads and shuffled their feet uncomfortably. Mr Barbie Doll started simulating sex between his plastic actors, then collapsed into fits of giggles.

[i:a7e9ab6699]"Fuck's sake."[/i:a7e9ab6699] Said Francis.[i:a7e9ab6699]"Are we entirely sure this was a good idea?"[/i:a7e9ab6699]


[i:a7e9ab6699][b:a7e9ab6699]Club Purgatory, Touraine[/b:a7e9ab6699][/i:a7e9ab6699]

[i:a7e9ab6699]"If your name's not down, you're not coming in."[/i:a7e9ab6699] Said the burly, but exquisitely dressed bouncer to the man in the black robe. [i:a7e9ab6699]"And even if your name was down, you wouldn't be coming in. This is a nightclub, not a fucking monastery."[/i:a7e9ab6699]

Within the hood of the robe, two pinpricks of green light shone briefly for a moment and a voice issued from the shadowed face. [i:a7e9ab6699]"M says I can come in. Explain to him M."[/i:a7e9ab6699]

Horror swept over the bouncer's face, as some imagined fear caused his bowels to liquefy and his bladder to release. He collapsed, shaking and quivering in his own excrement, gasping for breath and whimpering. [i:a7e9ab6699]"See, that wasn't so hard, now was it?"[/i:a7e9ab6699] Noted the man in the black robe, before entering the venue.

It seemed he had arrived just in time, the chant was beginning, [i:a7e9ab6699]"EVE... EVE... EVE.... EVE... EVE."[/i:a7e9ab6699]

[i:a7e9ab6699]"Oh Evey, what have you done this time."[/i:a7e9ab6699] He wondered to himself.

This was the real test. What good was he to the Inconnu if he couldn't hide? Intensive sessions with some of the oldest of the Nosferatu had made him extremely adept at the art of Obfuscation, but he knew full well that Eveshka was a master of Auspex. It didn't help that M was indulging himself by groping the lovelies that she had surrounded herself with, even going so far as to run his hands over Eve. P sat in a nearby chair, laughing at M. It was all really quite distracting.

[i:eac15fdf2f]"The Olive Branch, eh?"[/i:eac15fdf2f] He thought to himself.

[i:eac15fdf2f]"Hey, check this out!"[/i:eac15fdf2f] Shouted M, who by now had his arms around Eve, one hand on each breast and was reading the letter over her shoulder. [i:eac15fdf2f]"It's from Renée"[/i:eac15fdf2f]

George put a finger to his lips and gave all of them a hard stare. It probably wasn't M's fault, he'd always liked beautiful women, especially Eve, but perhaps a little self control wouldn't go amiss now and again.

George wandered out, entourage in tow, to make his preparations for a trip to Paris.

Eveshka suddenly turned, eyebrow raised.

[i:eac15fdf2f]"What is it, my Lady?"[/i:eac15fdf2f] The young woman said for a second time.

[i:eac15fdf2f]"I thought... no, it's nothing."[/i:eac15fdf2f] Replied Eve.

[i:fb54f818c4] Paris, the palace of Prince Renee Delacroiz [/i:fb54f818c4]

Eveshka walked into the midst of the Toreador Royalty bearing the Olive Branch. She wore a stunning French blue evening gown that was sexy yet sophisticated. She looked more like an heiress than a sexual debutante bent on hedonism. Off in the wings, George looked at her proudly. This was the Eve he had always known, not the sluttily short miniskirt wearing whore. It was quite obvious the Eveshka was unarmed.

She came silently into the midst of the Toreador Royalty with all of her Presence and Majesty radiating from her. The effect was to spellbind most of the people present. Even Renee was bewitched. Most but the most ancient of Toreador stood transfixed.

The African rose from his seat with a hearty laugh. He could not help but to be impressed by this display. He looked at his subjects and saw the look of rapture on their faces. It was as if they were looking at a living Goddess. George shook his head to clear it as he too had inadvertently fallen under her spell.

"LAdy Eveshka," said the African in his deep musical voice. "Welcome to Paris." With that the glamour ended and the Toreador blinked and looked around.

"Thank you," said Eveshka. "With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

"I am Pandu," said the African.

"I have heard the name, forgive me but I do not recall where," said Eveshka.

"I am not surprised," said Pandu. "Only the most intimate of the Toreador Council know me. I am the voice of the clan in the Camarilla Inner Circle."

Eveshka nodded and actualy trembled a bit. This was the highest ranking Toreador in existence standing before her. She had never been in such proximity to so much political power. This man had no doubt held her unlife in his hands on numerous occasions. It frightened her. Eveshka curtsied before Pandu before speaking.

"Why was I asked to Paris, Your Excellency?"

"We ahve heard of your successes in your realm and are impressed with you. We know that you have sired many childer. All daughters. We know that you have started a bloodline of sorts styled, 'The Daughters of Ishtar.' We know that the other clans are looking to Touraine with growing apprehension. We wish to bring you home. We wish to offer you a seat on the Council and recognize your Line as a legitimate branch of the Toreador Clan."

"In return for?" asked Eveshka. George stayed obfuscated in the corner and watched silently.

"Your allegiance and obedience," said Pandu. "We wish you to take your place, and to know your place in the order of things. Thus far, you do not seem to know your place."

"Know my place?" asked Eveshka. "I feel I know my place very well. Why would I wish to come 'home' as you put it when the Clan has always saught to use me and manipulate me? Why would I wish to subject myself to that again?"

Pandu said nothing.

"I tried my damnedest to serve the clan faithfully for almost 800 years. I have been kicked around by lackies like Rhiannon, shunted aside by others because they were jealous of my popularity. I have been schemed against, set up, kidnapped, had assasination attempts made by fellow Toreador, and have been maligned at every step I took. I realize that this is somewhat of the nature of Vampiric society, but come on. This is ridiculous. I will not be apart of it."

"To whom will you turn when the Jyhad arrives in your little realm?" asked Pandu reasonably.

"I will turn to my Bloodline, my thralls, my servants, my allies in other clans. In short I will do what I have always done. I will persever and will rely upon myself."

Madame Guil spoke up. "Please LAdy Eveshka, do not be too hasty. You know as well as I that your Blood Cult has brought you center stage in the eyes of the Camarilla, and probably in the eyes of the Sabbat."

"And the Inconnu," thought George.

"You know it is only a matter of time before they come calling," said Madame Guil. "We can help you."

"Until I am no longer useful or I become too much of a liability to you," said Eveshka. "I would prefer to be alone rather than under the yoke of the Camarilla. I will not thwart the designs of Clan Toreador, nor will I ally myself with the Sabbat. I just wish to be left alone. I wish to be left to create and to make beauty."

"Where is the beauty in what you are doing, Lady Eveshka?" asked PAndu.
"I see pornography, drug trafficking, hedonism, human slavery, narcissism. I see no artistry. No creativity. I see the dabauched hands of the Setite. The twisted inhumanity of the Sabbat. I see a threat to all that I hold dear."

Eveshka swallowed her anger that flared up and stood there silently.

"The Olive Branch will be extended but once. If you do not take it, then there shall be enmity between us once you have returned to your own domains," said Pandu. "Think well on this, My Lady."

Still Eveshka was silent.

"Spend the rest of the night and the day in Paris, and return unto us tomorrow night with your answer. Think you well on this matter."

Pandu stood up as did the rest of the Council. They left the room. Eveshka curtsied and left through the door from whence she entered.

She went to her former Haven over looking the Seine on Ile de la Cite, near Notre Dame. George followed her. They had spent many nights here. She stood on her balcony and looked at the empty flower urns. There had been so much life here. Perhaps she was making a mistake. Perhaps. Then again, she was a creature of inhuman beauty and grace. She had supernatural powers beyond most existing vampires wildest dreams. She had talents bestowed upon her at which mortals and Cainties alike marveled. She was a Goddess. She was meant to be worshipped and adored. She was doing nothing wrong. As usual, they were just jealous and threatened by her superiority. She turned and thought she saw....

"Tromador?" she asked the darkness. It was only an apparition. After all, this was the spot that Rhiannon had brought the two together. It was only the memories playing on her. Leila, Aine, Valen Vanderville, or Brian Braddock might show up at any moment for all she knew. She was feeling that squirrely. Who knows, she'd killed Mark Archer once, just in the other room, perhaps he would appear. In the gloom, George stood watching and thinking. Had she seen him? Did he want her to see him?

[i:0e6d876294]"She can't see you."[/i:0e6d876294] Reassured M. The others were absent, there was only M, sprawled across the length of a chaise longue. M was always the strongest. M was always there. When the others were gone, it usually meant he had sent them away. That usually meant he was up to something. Some mischief.

[i:0e6d876294]"Look at her there, silhouetted against the moonlight, the fine silk clinging to her perfect body."[/i:0e6d876294] M went on. [i:0e6d876294]"That used to have such an effect on you, George."[/i:0e6d876294] M closed his eyes. [i:0e6d876294]"If I delve inside your mind."[/i:0e6d876294] M chuckled at the clear irony of the statement. [i:0e6d876294]"I can see such memories. It's a shame I can't experience them, firsthand."[/i:0e6d876294] M paused in his dissertation.

[i:0e6d876294]"But this is not the time for such... diversions, is it George?"[/i:0e6d876294] M continued after a moment, looking up at George. [i:0e6d876294]"She's up to something, I can feel it, [b:0e6d876294]you[/b:0e6d876294] can feel it. If we reach out and touch her mind for just a moment. So lightly, so carefully, just a heartbeat's touch and it is done."[/i:0e6d876294]

George reached out with his mind, the tiniest featherlight touch upon Eveshka's. Just for that brief moment he saw...

[i:0e6d876294]"Uh uh... No George. That's not for you. You wouldn't like it."[/i:0e6d876294] Said M, squirreling the vision away. [i:0e6d876294]"She's close now, so close. Can you feel it? Much to share, much to teach, much to learn. And you and I George... we will help her, nurture her, much as you used to. Allow her to... express herself to the full, yes? Give a little help, here and there. Lend a hand."[/i:0e6d876294]

George nodded slowly and his eyes swirled like a green chaotic mist. [i:0e6d876294]"Very well."[/i:0e6d876294] He answered, a wry and twisted smile playing over his features. [i:0e6d876294]"If that's what you would like."[/i:0e6d876294]

M smiled back. [i:0e6d876294]"Yes, George. I'd like that very much. Shall we let her know you are here? Perhaps just a glimpse."[/i:0e6d876294]

George nodded.

For a moment, Eveshka saw the figure of a man, his face obscured by the shadows of the room and the robe, hood pulled forward over his head. For the briefest instant, two green pinpricks of light shone from within the hooded darkness. The figure faded, like the chesire cat, the two green points of light last to vanish.

He was there. Then he was gone. She could sense him, could feel him. But he was trying not to be seen or felt. Dawn was approaching. She went into the bed chamber that used to "entertain" so often in the past, but had been empty and abandoned for years now. She slept fitfully, her mind racing with images of Lord George Stanley running through her head. Something was not quite right. His House had risen to a comfprtable level of power under the Lancastrian Kings and then fallen away during the Yorkist reign back in the mid to late 15th century. She honestly did not know what she was seeing, but she recognized some of the castles and landmarks that ran through her mind: Clifford's Tower, Warwick Castle, and a monastery somewhere near Bosworth Field. Had Lord Stanley been there? Perhaps. The Stanley's had betrayed the Yorkists that day and thrown in their lot with the future Henry VII. Welshmen? Earl of Pembroke?

What did it mean?

Don't give up?

Pretend to follow the crowd and wait for the right opportunity?

Why wouldn't he just come out?

She knew it was only a matter of time until she saw him. Eve rose the next evening and sat at her old writing table. She opened up a drawer and found the thing she sought. It was a jeweled ring of rubies, emeralds, and diamonds fashioned into the Toreador Clan crest by Pierre Fabrege himself. She pulled out a parchment type envelope and slipped the ring inside. She closed it with black wax bearing the Imperial Romanov Seal.

An hour later Eveshka walked outside the building and saw the Camarilla stooges that were tailing her. She walked right up to them and handed one of them the envelope.

"Tell Pandu I need more time to think," she commanded. "But please pass this on as a token of appreciation for the consideration he has given me." The young Toreador bowed out of habit, then caught himself. Afterall, she had been viewed as a legend among the Toreador, particularly the males. Old habits died hard.

Eve walked down to Blvd St. Michel, crossed the Seine, and then walked to the Gare Montparnasse where she boarded a TGV to Tours. She really did miss Paris. Perhaps she would come home after all. She did not know what to do. In the shadows, George followed.

The TGV couldn't have been in the best of condition. Old stock perhaps. As it sped through the night, the lights would flicker, occasionally plunging the carriage into darkness. Each time, Eveshka saw the hooded figure sitting opposite her, only to blink and shake her head when the lights returned. A figment of her imagination. She was Tromador obsessed. The dreams and the place. Too many memories, her mind fucking with her.

George sat opposite her, resting his hands on the scratched plastic surface of the ubiquitous railway carriage table, always the same, attached by bolt and bracket to the wall of the train. M sat next to her, looking from her to George and back again.

[i:882b18d2e7]"We're not supposed to interfere."[/i:882b18d2e7] Said George to the young man opposite.

[i:882b18d2e7]"I would think we could do fairly much as we pleased."[/i:882b18d2e7] Answered M. [i:882b18d2e7]"They want us to know what is going on inside this little one's mind. See where she is going. If they just wanted someone to watch, they wouldn't have sent us. We must probe and push, steer and guide. There is much here to learn, knowledge to take back to the others."[/i:882b18d2e7]

[i:882b18d2e7]"We've left the Jyhad behind, young one."[/i:882b18d2e7] Admonished George. [i:882b18d2e7]"All that time in the forge of the desert to find peace. The ultimate peace. We're above petty clan bickering and pointless Camarilla politicking and Elder manipulation. That is our past."[/i:882b18d2e7]

George looked to his left, where A was now sitting. He answered, in his thick balkan accent. [i:882b18d2e7]"The point George, isn't what we are doing, it's what someone else is doing. Look at her, she's a methusalah herself, yet she's running around like a silly neonate on a power trip. You'll never be able to monitor this watching from the outside. You need to kick over some rocks, see what crawls out."[/i:882b18d2e7]

M nodded, pointing at A. [i:882b18d2e7]"My point exactly."[/i:882b18d2e7]

P walked in from the next carriage, smoking a filterless gitane. [i:882b18d2e7]"Kick over a rock George. A little..."[/i:882b18d2e7] He paused and reached for the communication cord. Only it wasn't P, but George whose hand pulled the lever. The emergency brakes kicked in, jolting the carriage, it's faulty illumination finally giving out, leaving only the dim twilight of the emergency lights. [i:882b18d2e7]"...Anger."[/i:882b18d2e7] Whispered P from the seat opposite Eve.

George concentrated on the mind of the ancient Russian a moment, then slipped into the shadows. Invisibly, he watched the nervous passengers as Eveshka's beast began to uncoil within her breast.

It swelled within her. She tried to staunch the flow but it could not be satiated. Her head came up and George could see a feral smile on her face. Her fangs were bared and her eyes looked steely. She was on the hunt. He saw her stand up and move out of the compartment.

"It'll be alright," said M. "Let's see what happens."

The next coach down erupted in screams as slumbering travlers were awakened by an Angel of Death, only to have their throats ripped out. People were emolated by her thaumaturigcal powers. Others were ripped to shreds by legions of undead wraiths summoned from the Netherworld.

"Oh shit," muttered George as he sprang to action. He managed to quell the demon that was Eveshka before she could destroy everyone on the train. He also managed to change the memories of all the survivors in one fell swoop. This had been his fault after all.

The story that surfaced in the international news was that Basque Separatists had tried to take the train over. The body count was placed at 35. There were none wounded. The passengers were either dead or not touched at all.

M mused to George that it had been rather easy to push Eve's buttons. For the next several nights, Eve stayed away from Club Purgatory in Tours. She stayed in the Cathedrale de St Gatien. She circled the sanctuary endlessly. She was trying to come to terms with how good it felt to destroy those mortals and how wrong she knew it was to feel that way.

Sometimes, the urge to bite someone is so strong it's almost as if there's a higher power calling you to follow your instincts...

No matter how far or fast you run, you can never escape the space that you're in...

[i:bd747d13f3]Insignificant pawn of the Jyhad. Or maybe a significant pawn. But a pawn. Like they all are, the Camarilla, the Sabbat. Only we are are free of it. This is why we can watch, monitor as we say it. The information gatherers, more so than even the Nosferatu. We have made it our remit to watch the Jyhad unfold, apart from it and uninvolved. When Gehenna comes, it will be our fate to preserve our race.[/i:bd747d13f3]

The old fashioned quill scratched it's lines across the parchment, the biro not his preference, as George wrote his report, all the while watching Eveshka struggle with her own self loathing.

[i:bd747d13f3]You sent us[/i:bd747d13f3]

George grimaced, crossing out the word "us".

[i:bd747d13f3][b:bd747d13f3]me[/b:bd747d13f3] to monitor this new bloodline. Eveshka is in some ways her normal self, in others, she seems... easily led. I would have expected more resistance to manipulation, yet it is as though she is ripe to be controlled. The Toreador council have dismissed Khemintiri as an influence and we have all read the report our esteemed colleague produced on the Anathema's final act, so I am inclined to agree with their assessment. Yet, I cannot help but believe there is something behind Eveshka's actions. My friends, (yes Francis, I know you hate me talking about them, but they provide me with additional insight) suggest I, as they put it, kick over some rocks to see what crawls out. The trick is to kick rocks, whilst remaining uninvolved, as our order demands. Perhaps your guidance will be forthcoming in this regard. Meantime, we shall see what a little pressure and external stimuli brings.[/i:bd747d13f3]

[i:bd747d13f3]"Seem ok to you?"[/i:bd747d13f3] George asked the others. General nods of approval came from the entourage.

[i:bd747d13f3]"What next then?"[/i:bd747d13f3] He asked.

M pondered for a moment. [i:bd747d13f3]"Let's find out just how far gone she really is. Cooped up in here for days, I reckon she's getting hungry."[/i:bd747d13f3]

The girl followed George into the sanctuary, she knew not why she came, nor how she had got there, nor could she see the man ahead of her, clad in his dark robe. She was young, maybe seventeen, with an innocence in her crystal blue eyes matched only by the life coursing through her perfect body with each strong beat of her heart. An epitomy of unspoiled beauty, she was slim with well toned curves, the shape of her firm breasts almost teasingly covered by the cascade of shimmering auburn hair. She saw Eveshka, radiant, with pale china skin aglow in the semi darkness of the sanctuary. The girl fell to her knees, wide eyed, not with fear but with fascination. From her rosebud lips fell the simple question, [i:bd747d13f3]"Êtes-vous une ange?"[/i:bd747d13f3]

"To some", responded Eveshka. "Do you think me an angel?"

The girl nodded her assent.

"Do you think me the most beautiful thing in creation?" asked Eveshka.

The girl nodded her assent once again, eyes still wide with fascination.

"Never have I seen something more pristine and Holy in my life," said the girl.

This made Eveshka laugh. She laughed loudly and a bit too darkly for the desception to continue. Eve had been called many things, but never pristine and Holy. Nope, her body, and every oriface in it had been thoroughly defiled one hundred times over. Probably more, but who was counting? The girl shook her head slightly and began to rise. This did not please Eve.

"You... cannot be an angel of the Lord," said the girl.

"No?" asked Eveshka with a rather mean smile on her face. "Perhaps not, but I am the most beautiful being in Creation. Worship me my child."

"Never," said the young woman, crossing herself and backing away from Eve.

"WORSHIP ME." commanded Eveshka in an imperious tone.

"NO!!!" screamed the girl and she turned to run, but she ended up running into Eve who had seemingly materialized behind her using her celerity.

Off in the nave of the cathedral, M raised his eyebrows and smiled at George.

Eveshka grabbed the girl and bit into her neck and began to drink. The girl fought a bit, but the magic of Eve's Kiss began to calm her and the girl began to experience pleasure. This suited Eveshka just fine, she preferred feeding from blood heavy with endorphines brought out through sexual contact. It made the buzz just that much more satisfying.

From out of one of the transcepts came a priest. "WHAT GOES ON HERE!?!?!" he demanded to know. "Mary preserve us," he whispered as he saw Eveshka and the young woman. Eve looked up, blood dripping off her chin, her eyes catlike. She entered his soul and took possession of him. She then closed her eyes and summoned her Daughters through the bonds of regnancy. He walked calmly to the huge front doors and bolted them. There was just the three of them now. She released the young woman who fell to the ground clutching her pelvic area and whimpering in ecstasy. The Priest walked over to them and picked up the girl.

"Ooooh, this is getting good," cried M, who clapped his hands gleefully. George had to admit, this was a bit exciting.

"Sacrifice what remains of your sanctity upon my Altar Priest," commanded Eveshka. "Be my High Priest. Give yourself to the Daughters of Ishtar."

Mists filtered in through the cracks and formed ghostly shapes. There were twenty of them. The ghostly shapes solidified into some of the most beautiful women the world has ever seen. These were the Daughters of Ishtar, Eveshka's childer. Their attire was all different, from moderately conservative, yet still very sexy, business attire, to black leather cat suits, to the vinyl and metal lingerie that would be seen at a Lords of Acid concert. They stood in a circle around the Altar. They all held hands and stood by silently. The Cathedrale de St. Gatien was soon filled with the music of the young girl's orgasms as the newly appointed High Priest took her virginity on the altar. As the blood of her maidenhead mixed with his semen and dribbled onto and defiled the once Holy vestments on the altar, Eve smiled. She would take this place as HER Church. Tours would all worship her. If needs be she would figure out how to make the city disappear from the planet. Somehow she would be a goddess. A true Goddess.

Eve looked over into the shadow near the door leading to the cloister and saw the twin pricks of green light. Tromador was here. She could see him. With her eyes ablaze in passionate fury she smiled at him and licked an exposed fang. She then stepped forwards and delved them into the girls vaginal tissue and nearly drained her. She then let a few drops of her vitae dribble into the girl's open mouth and took her as her 21st Childe.

She then turned to the former Priest and held out her hand, which still dripped with her vitae. "Drink, and be mine," she commanded. He drank.

On the third day his fall from grace was complete. It turned out that he was not a mere priest, he was the Arch-Bishop of Tours. He was now the Arch-Bishop of Istar. He seemed glad of it on the whole.

[i:79c77d8ad7]...and so I suspect the depths of her depravity have yet to be explored. A simple thing of beauty, placed neatly into her grasp created in her a slavering beast of darkness. Her lack of morality is equalled only by her bloodlust.

For my next investigation, I propose to examine her intellect. The old Eveshka, as I knew her was dangerous in the level of her thought processes. If the intellect remains, as I suspect it does, then she will certainly be an interesting subject for continued study. I shall appraise you of her performance in my next missive.

As I feared, I believe she has spotted me. Her auspex is formidable. My presence does not appear to disturb her, however. This is perhaps a telling sign. She became very distant after my affliction began to manifest itself in dangerous ways. Still, as we (by which I refer to myself, or ourself, semantics are strange in this circumstance) have resolved our differences and to a greater or lesser extent are at peace, perhaps I appear less intimidating. Or perhaps this is simply another manifestation of the madness she seems to exhibit.

I will write further when the results of the next round of testing is complete.

Until then Francis, I remain your faithful servant,

Sir George Stanley of Lathom.[/i:79c77d8ad7]

George thought for a moment. Without asking, he knew that M was in agreement. P and A in their usual cold detachment were intrigued simply for the sake of the experiment.

Leaving the Cathedral, he stood upon the damp steps and looked around. At this late hour few people passed by, but enough for his purposes, collecting a small crowd. [i:79c77d8ad7]"5 for the E, 2 for the V. I'll need twelve."[/i:79c77d8ad7]

Slowly, choosing carefully to ensure he had mortals of the correct length, he picked out twelve willing, or at least dominated, volunteers, dismissing the rest, after an appropriate tweak to their memories. It wouldn't do to attract attention too early.

The twelve arranged themselves into the appropriate positions. George didn't want to have to be carrying them about, he might get dirty. A black robe is all to the good, but still, cleanliness is next to godliness, or at least, it saves on nasty whiffs.

Systematically and coldly emotionless, George moved around the group, ripping out their throats, allowing the blood to drip in a crimson waterfall down the steps. Twelve bloody corpses, laying in their own congealing gore, spelling the word "EVE".

[i:79c77d8ad7]"Very nicely done."[/i:79c77d8ad7] Said M as George retired to a nearby building, to watch from a window.

The gendarmes arrived shortly after the bodies spelled out "Eve." They came walked around the cathedral and, seeing lighting in the main sanctuary still at 3 am, they tried the door to see that it was locked, it was. They then knocked. The lights inside instantly went out. The place was silent where the officer swore he could hear the sounds of an orgasm. A full orgy was more like it. Well, orgies be damned, he had a whole lotta dead people to deal with. Just as he turned around to walk back down the steps to the other officers he saw Eve with a whicked smile on her angelic looking face. The four other gendarmes were standing there with blank looks on their faces. Twenty gorgeous women in various states of undress stood around them in a semi-circle, all facing up the steps towards the lone gendarmes and Eve.

"Join us, sergeant," said Eve expending blood points to dominate him.

"Yes..." he started.

"Mistress," she finished.

"Mistress," he finished robotically.

*******************************


Twenty minutes later the corpses had been moved into the cathedral where they sat in the choir holding hymnals. The Arch-Bishop thought it was incredibly funny. Eve, however, felt uncomfortable.