[b:087a86da96]Gabriel[/b:087a86da96]

The shadows erupted in flurries of movements, bolting across the vacant room’s length so quickly that even Gabriel’s Cainite reflexes could not completely track their movements. In the brief span of time he was allotted to weigh his situation, he took in his adversaries’ appearance. The cobalt shine of the glow sticks was nearly futile in the murky blackness, but what little sight it did allow him clearly identified two separate figures.

Sinewy and ragged, the pair of animated corpses appeared to be wrapped in an ancient fabric of some sort. The crude clothing covered the whole of their bodies, leaving little more than pairs of empty, soulless eyes that stayed locked on the Ventrue as they bounded off the walls and vacuous stone floors. The mummy-like figures were otherwise fairly non-descript, save for their rotting, yellowed set of fangs and elongated claws which they shot into the stonework with such ferocity that Gabriel wondered that they did not snap off the shriveled cadavers immediately.

As they darted in and out of the blue sphere of light that encompassed the trio, the Kine at last caught site of the creatures, prompting one of them to release a dreadful cry before scrambling backwards towards the rooms entrance, shrieking in Farsi as he went. Gabriel watched as one of the sets of eyes immediately shifted from him to his fleeing guide.

In an instant the creature leapt high over Gabriel’s head and disappeared into the darkness near the doorway. The shuffle of the guide’s sandals was cut short and replaced by the tear of muscle and the slosh of liquid upon the arid stone floor. Putting visible constraint on his hunger as the sweet scent of blood filled the room; Gabriel produced a palm sized cylinder that had been concealed on the backside of his belt, just below the small of his back.

He held it before him, still waving the glow-stick in his free hand, and with a flick of the wrist the cylinder elongated into a series of concentrically smaller sections, into an 18-inch rod. The metallic snap that resounded as these pieces locked into place not only drew the attention of the sentry who still clung to the ceiling several yards ahead of him, but also roused the second mummy from his feasting. The faint rustle of cloth and the slap of wet against the stone surface could be heard as the two guardians now positioned themselves on either side of the Ventrue and his remaining, quivering guard.

An audible hiss rang out, as he called to his attackers to strike. And strike they did. The creature launched itself from the ceiling towards the pair, stretching out it’s talon-like appendages as it did so. Even as Gabriel braced to meet the threat, he could hear the blood soaked claws of the attacker behind him scratch across the floor towards him. The simultaneous attackers shrieked, filling the treasury with their high, raspy howls.

Gabriel’s auspex was already in full motion however, and he was reading the base, monstrous thoughts of his foes with relative ease. With almost pin-point timing, he took a turning step sideways, barely avoiding the descending creatures’ claws. As he completed his rotation he brought the rod down hard across the back of the creatures’ head, where the spine seamed with the skull.

Without waiting to view whatever damage he had inflicted, Gabriel propelled himself into another spin, arching his baton through the air as he did so. The second beast landed directly where he had been standing, but could not stop his forward motion and it’s dry, emaciated face collided with the hard blue steel of the rod. As the bridge of what had once been it’s nose collapsed, the creature fell to the floor, more from imbalance than from the force of the blow.

The Ventrue took a quick step backwards, consciously towards the door. He held the rod in front of him and the glow-stick carefully in the other. Behind him, his guide wailed and moaned in terror, and urine could now be detected amongst the aroma of blood. He continued his movement backwards, maneuvering the Kine towards the door.

The mummies were up in an instant, and were descending upon the pair with alarming speed. Their claws flashed in thick archs at such a rate that Gabriel was once again unable to follow their movements. No amount of auspex would allow him to predict a battle plan now. Even as he attempted to read their thoughts, he received only a simple, startling message….’meat’.

Blood magic whirled as the Ventrue extended his powers of dominance over the two. This proved more difficult than he had anticipated as the beasts possessed little mind to control. They were more the essence of something or someone. However, apparently one was more recently dead and still contained some semblance of a working brain. A look of confusion registered across the it’s vacant eyes, before it quickly turned on it’s advancing counter-part.

The mummies tore into one another with primal passion, plunging their claws into their dried corpses repeatedly until the dust that had so long ago been their organs poured onto the floor. To Gabriel’s dismay, the corpse under his control was considerably weaker and was within moments reduced to little more than wrapping and shreds of dry crackly flesh. The remaining creature cried in victory and launched itself towards the Ventrue intruder.

Grabbing the quivering guide by the robe, Gabriel heaved the human forward directly into the path of mummy. The two bodies collided and fell to the floor. In an instant, the Ventrue was upon the mummy, now releasing a savagery of his own upon the unfortunate beast. Bones snapped and shattered under the baton’s weight, as he struck again and again. At last, even a Methusaleh’s blood magic could not animate such a destroyed corpse and it fell to the earth, gasping a final wheeze.

“Well done…but heed this advice, leave any intent of violence in this room…” Gabriel shot to his feet and peered into the darkness around him. A dozen pairs of beady eyes peered out from the bleak shadows around him. They were animated and lively, hungry and deceitful, the eyes of Cainites, no mere ghoul. “..the rest of my minions are not such mindless sentries. You’ve come to talk Ventrue….let us talk…”

The room seemed to illuminate, and a doorway appeared on it’s far side that Gabriel had not noticed before. The watchers continued to watch him, but did little else. He stood and let the rod drop to the floor, listening to it clang across the loosely fitted stone. A room full of Assamites would not be stopped by simple mind tricks and a baton in any case.

Now that a few things had fallen into place, it was, once again time to search for a few more clues. The Scythians had come up, or rather proto-Scythians, in the guise of the sword Gabriel had found. Coincidentally a Scythian site wasn't so far away from Trabzon, at Lake Van. On a wild hunch, Julius got into the car.

The wind blew through the crumbling ruin that was the ancient citadel of Van. Here some Hittite descendants had stood, guarding the realm of Urartu until the Scythians had defeated them and taken the realm for themselves. What remained of Urartian artwork showed a tree, guarded by angels. Indeed it seemed that the Urartian cult worshipped the tree of life. A few clicks on a keyboard indicated some mad fool thought that space aliens of some kind had created this place, giving the tree of life to Adam and Eve. Julius didn't pay much attention to stories of space aliens, but now and again there was a little truth behind such nonsense, though picking it out of the work was generally impossible.

For now though, it wasn't the time for electronics and the modern world. Julius packed up his laptop and instead set his skull in place, both to aid the magical currents he would now create and also to act as an alarm system in case of any other night wanderers. He prepared himself to enter a trancelike state. His auspex, coupled with his magic, to listen to what the wind could tell him, the memories locked in the rocks of the citadel, the waters of the lake and the ancient stone of the ground beneath his feet.

Confession II.

The next night, Father Guillot came to Eve's penthouse overlooking the Seine. He was still not prepared to believe everything she said, but there was definately something quite sincere in her tale. Thus far she had elaborated upon how she had become a Vampire and she had described some of her powers but had not displayed them. She also described how she sustained herself. That disturbed him to say the least. Drinking of blood was a MAJOR transgression according to Moseaic Law.

"Tell me again, how you think that you can control people's minds and actions, my child," said Father Guillot in a calm voice.

He had been asking her questions as if she were a psychiatric patient rather than a demi-god of sorts. She was beginning to tire of the line of inquiry. She needed to prove to him what she really was. Eveshka stood up and pulled off the floor length black velvet cloak she wore to reveal her inhuman beauty in all of its splendour to this poor priest.

"My CHILD," he exclaimed in disbelief, her presence and awe firmly taking him over and arousing his aged manhood. "You must cover yourself... please."

She smiled and licked an extruded fang, and then licked around her lips as she moved towards him dripping sex with every footstep. She picked up a poignard and moved her hands upon the handle as if it were an erect phallus. She placed her hands, with the knife in it, into the priest's trembling hands and pointed the blade of the knife into the right side of her chest. She licked her lips one last time, her eyes narrowing seductively, "You can see Guillaume that I have nothing up my sleaves, this is no trick." With that she plunged the dagger into her perfect breast causing dead, black blood to spill all down her creamy skin. Father Guillot blanched, wide eyed with terror as she pulled out the blade and let it drop. She hadn't even blinked as it entered her body, she maintained a dead stare into Father Guillot's eyes.

"My.... My God," stammered the Priest. "Why did you do this to yourself? I must call an ambulance." He turned and started to move over to the phone sitting on the table across the room. As he turned he saw that Eveshka was no longer behind him but was standing by the phone hold the receiver in her hand. Her head was cocked sideways and she wore an amused sort of smile.

"You see?" she asked. She picked up a glass of water and poured it down her front to wash the blood away. All that remained was a gaping wound that did not bleed. She walked towards him. He watched in terror and wonder as the wound healed before his very eyes.

"What are you," he asked in a whisper.

Eveshka bent down and picked up the cloak and put it back on and pulled the hood back up. "As far as I know," she began. "I am damned."

She looked at him with blood rimmed eyes that began to run down her cheek. "Please, Father. Please help me. I don't want to go to the Outer Darkness when the Judgement comes. I've done some bad things, but I am not a bad girl. Not really."

The priest sat silently for several minutes and then walked out onto the balcony overlooking the Seine. Eveshka let him be there alone for a good while before she silently joined him. "Please, Father Guillot. I am not a bad girl. I did not choose to be this way."

He looked at her still in fear, but not without ample compassion. "My .... ", he couldn't say the word 'child' for some reason but skipped the word and continued on. "I have seen something that very few of my peers would ever believe, nor would they ever think of aiding one such as you."

Eveshka nodded silently.

"I can hear your Confession, and then we can go from there. You will not be in a state of sin before the Lord after you Confess. Now tell me, what sins have you to confess?"

So, she told him. He listened for hours with wide eyed horror, wide eyed wonder and awe, he wept, he laughed, he heard the entire tale that was Eveshka Shuvolov. She spoke until the sun started to rise.

"I must retire to my inner sanctum. I cannot exist in the light. Please do not leave me today Father."

This near Demi-God, in some ways an angel, and in others a demon from the lowest pits of Hell spoke to him like a scared child. He pitied her.

"I shall rest beside you in the chair by the fire, Child. I will not leave you while you sleep."

And he didn't.

[b:b1c791d4d8]Trabzon, Turkey - Miranda Troy's Penthouse Suite[/b:b1c791d4d8]

[i:b1c791d4d8]"Wake up!..."[/i:b1c791d4d8]

A faint emerald glow enhanced Morathi's natural eye colour briefly as the voice exerted more of its power to speak to its host..."

[b:b1c791d4d8][i:b1c791d4d8]"WAKE UP NOW!!!!...."[/i:b1c791d4d8][/b:b1c791d4d8]

The command seemed to echo forever in her mind dragging her mind's distant awareness towards the present forcibly, Morathi's eyes blinked as her awareness of her true time started to return but not yet her own memories. She looked about herself in confusion, this was not her hotel in Troy but the sounds outside told her she was still in Turkey, she blinked trying to recall the last thing she could.... Eyes.... Yes that was it... Eyes.... Seeming to burn into her soul...."

[b:b1c791d4d8][i:b1c791d4d8]"THIS IS NO TIME TO RECALL YOUR REBIRTH KINDRED..... I NEED YOU TO RETURN TO YOUR PRESENT... YOU HAVE NEGLECTED TO FEED FOR TOO LONG... YOUR BODY NEEDS TO FEAST.... I NEED YOU TO FEAST.... DO NOT MAKE ME REGRET FORMING THE BARGAIN WE MADE WHEN YOU TOOK ME FROM SULPHUR'S LIFELESS HANDS....."[/i:b1c791d4d8][/b:b1c791d4d8]

A sudden flash of green light pulsed from Morathi's eyes as the 3000 year old wraith within her crystalline heart lost patience, a long faint ragged scar illuminated faintly in green appeared between Morathi's until then unblemished breasts, a medical minded observer would have noted that this scar was in the right place for a heart operation to have been performed, but the scar was ragged as if a large surgical implement had sawed its way into Morathi's chest cavity at an awkward angle...

Morathi gasped in recalled pain, her mind flooding with the memories of how she had obtained that scar and the events preceeding. She had been in her Chantry in New Orleans using her rank as regentia to ensure she would not be disturbed in her study of a large gemstone that had come into her possession. It had called to her mind silently to pick up in the first place. It proved to be a prison to an ancient chinese wraith that offered her a bargain... Well not exactly offered... It had expended much of if remaining influence on the external world to forcibly claim a host inside whom it could replenish its strength after 3000 years of trapped unlife.

It had possessed Morathi and commanding her to use 'Arataka' her Katana to expose her own lifeless heart in a brutal act of self mutilation had then compelled Morathi to pick the gemstone up and place it against her own heart, where a coldness that felt like fire spread throughout her body as the crystal fused with her flesh, making herself and the trapped wraith symbiotes as the wound sealed closed with magical ice that faded to leave flawless skin once more. The bargain was simple she would give the wraith a limited form of physical presence and experience of the simple pleasures it had been deprived of for 3000 years, in return the wraith would use its power and share knowledge gathered in its mortal life and the 3000 years as the toy of a demoness to protect its new host as long as the host gave it what it needed....

Writhing on the floor in recalled pain holding a hand to the pulsing scarline as the wraith forcibly reminded her of their shared destiny, Morathi dragged herself over to the room's fridge, frantically biting into and draining bag of blood after bag of blood until a more healthy shade returned to her skin, finally the wraith relented in its punishment of its host letting the scar and the phantom pain fade without trace...

[i:b1c791d4d8]"You may continue your studies of the artifacts kindred I know how important they are.... but if you lose your way again in the paths of the past.... I may not be so gentle in waking you next time...."[/i:b1c791d4d8]

Morathi panted softly as the warning voice left her alone, staggering over to her room's bathroom to bathe the faint layer of bloodsweat that had started to form from her flesh, and soothe the echoes of ghost pain she still could feel tingling slightly, noticing the spirit within's mood improve as she started to feel revitalised by the massaging water, sharing a body with another being's mind left her with very few personal privacies. Fortunately the wraith was easily pampered with such simple physical pleasures as a relaxing shower, having been denied such pleasures for so long...

Returning to her main room of her hotel suite Morathi picked up the final artifact she had recovered and yet to have studied fully with her auspex, an exquisite brooch depicting a horse warrior, that Dr Mooreland had noted was similar to those found in digs of tombs farther to the east...

[i:b1c791d4d8]"Careful now... Kindred..."[/i:b1c791d4d8]

A faint voice whispered in her mind softly as Morathi carefully opened her supernatural senses to the brooch and the past it contained...

In a sumptuous mausoleum in Najaf, Iraq, a faint hiss escapes the cracks of the resting place of Ali. From the cracks of the sarcophagus issue forth a deep purple mist. The mist slowly forms into a handsome man, more negroid in appearance than arabic. He has a well shaped physique and a bald head. His thoughts from the centuries of psychic exploration start returning to him. Everything from the rise and fall of the British Empire, to the rise and fall of the New Kids on the Block. The last thought that runs through his head is of a thin blond ventrue sniffing around. He knew that he had met Hassan already. Hassan the Betrayer, Hassan his rival. He stepped out for the first time in 400 years into the night air of Iraq and saw the power of the Western Military, the bright lights, the cigarette ads, and all other things of western decadence. He looked around with a soft smile on his handsome features and said five words: "It will have to go."

((A...Ali...? *gulps*

NOVEMBER 1, 2002. Confession III.

Father Giullot was as good as his word. Eveshka woke up at 6 PM and opened her eyes to see Father Guillot reading a book. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and padded over to him wearing loose fitting silk green pajamas.

"Good um.... evening, Eveshka," said Father Guillot pleasantly. For a nonagenarian he was quite spry. Eveshka walked over to him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She closed her eyes and used panacea to rebuild destroyed cells and degenerated muscle tissue. Father Guillot shuddered slightly and asked, "May I ask what you are doing?"

"You don't like the way it makes you feel?" asked Eve as if she had done something wrong.

"It is not a Holy power my child, and I do not wish it used upon me."

"As you wish," said the Comtesse and released him. "You will return to normal in a few months." She turned and walked away to her "wine" cabinet and got a flask of Vitae and quaffed the entire thing.

"Is that... blood?" asked Father Guillot in horror.

"This is how I am to feed. I thought you would prefer that I do it this way rather than from a living being," said Eve flatly.

"It is not what I prefer, but what the Lord prefers."

Eve sat down in a plush chair and nodded.

"I've been looking through the Holy Bible while you slept, and through your collection in the other room and I think I have arrived at a means of Salvation," said the priest.

Eveshka's eyes lit up.

"Nothing is preordained, my child. Not even the fact that The Enemy will be thrown into outer darkness," he said, with a compassionate look upon his face.

"To answer your first question from the other day," he began. "The Scarlet Whore is, in theory, not beyond Redemption."

Eveshka tilted her head sideways and listened intently.

"You see Eveshka, there are several theological theories about the sovereignty of man and the sovereignty of The Lord. Never doubt that the Lord is indeed sovereign over all. Yet," he said lifting his finger in the air and waving a bit while thinking. "Yet, the Lord has given Man free will to follow or refuse the Lord's will. There are some who believe that God, has preordained a select few for Salvation out of his Grace while the rest are damned to Outer Darkness at the end of time."

He paused and looked at a painting on the wall depicting the 98th Highlanders at Balaklava, the vaunted Thin Red Line.

"The official stance of Holy Mother Church is that all of this is Heresy of course," said the priest with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Yet, there will always be those who have their own private views. Anyways... there is another view that says that Salvation once given cannot be lost. It is the Shepherd's job to protect the Flock, not the Sheep's. The river of truth flows between the banks of Calvinism and Armenianism. That truth is Catholicism. We are free to chose our own destiny, yet the Father, being omniscient and omnipotent already KNOWS our choice, even if we do not."

Eveshka turned her head away. The logic of that was rather mystifying to her. It didn't make any sense really. To her, if God knew that one of His Children was damned in the end, why would He help that child in the mean time? It seemed an awful waste of energy. But then again, she was not God.

"You must put your faith in the Lord, Eveshka. You must be filled with the Holy Spirit and repent of your past misdeeds. And you must live a Godly life. Confession, Absolution, Communion, all of it."

"What about feeding? How am I to survive?" asked Eve.

The priest looked down for a moment and thought about it. "I think you know the answer to that, Eve."

She nodded.

"You are not beyond redemption my child. Not even Satan himself is beyond redemption. Were he to repent, the Lord in all his Glory and Mercy would take him in. We know from the Scriptures, of course, that he will not. He, and the Scarlet Whore with him, will be cast into Outer Darkness after the Final Judgement."

"Couldn't that be something of a self fulfilling prophecy? I mean, It is written by God that Satan will go to eternal damnation, so Satan will but because God said he would, not because he refuses Salvation."

The priest smiled indulgently. "That, my child, I cannot speak to. I am not God, nor do I know the workings of His mind. No man does. That is just the way of it."

Eveshka spoke with the priest for several more hours until he was too tired to carry on. "Father Guillaume," started Eveshka. "You cannot reveal any of this to anyone in the Church. My kind have infiltrated it already. By and large they are not good people. Your life, and my existence, would be in danger. It is a breach of our code of conduct to reveal our existence to Mortals." She expelled several blood points to dominate him and implant the suggestion that he keep absolute silence on this matter.

"Your secret is safe with an old priest, Eveshka," said Father Guillot. "If you wish to make a Confession, I would be happy to hear it. Remember what you have to do though Eveshka. Remember the path to Righteousness."

The tiny unmarked village into which the pale stranger wandered was lost, apparently, in the mists of time. No road led to it, but a simple dirt track which had seen more of the feet of donkeys than of the rubber clad wheels of the automobile. A single power cable did lead in from the mountains, paying testament to the existance of an outside world, but the buildings could have stood, unchanged, for hundreds of years.

In the beginnings of the pre-dawn light, a few of the villagers began their daily business, herding goats from their overnight lodgings to graze in the lower pastures. They passed the stranger, who walked as if in a daze, his fine clothes completely out of place in this timeless rural setting. A cheery greeting from the goatherds was met with silence, as though he were deaf, or dumb, or perhaps simple of mind. Whoever he was, he was clearly lost and in need of help and so, summoned by the villagers, did another priest, in another land, come into contact with one of the childer of Caine.

Nicodemus, who cared for his flock of souls with the same care that those same souls cared for their own flocks looked at the stranger, then at the lightening sky. Taking him gently by the hand, Nicodemus led the stranger into the small chapel which served this community. The aging priest stroked his beard, and nodded as he sat the stranger in a dark corner, away from any stray beams of sunlight which might enter the building. Nicodemus walked to the altar, bowed and knelt in prayer. From time to time, he would check on the stranger, who seemed content, for now to sit, staring at the walls.

As the vision faded, Julius awoke to a dark room, filled with the quiet murmurings of an old man's voice. He looked around, judging by the fittings, icons, altar and the ingrained smell of incense that he must be in some kind of church. The bearded and robed gentleman kneeling at the altar, then was likely a priest. The ideal person, then, with whom to discuss what he had seen.

At the sound of movement, Nicodemus turned. The stranger had, apparently, awoken from the state of mind in which he had been lost. Nicodemus arose, bowed to the altar and went to sit beside the stranger, "Welcome to my humble church." Began Nicodemus, speaking with a thick accent, a mix of eastern european and arab. "I would also welcome you back to the land of the living, but that hardly seems appropriate, given your particular state of being, hmm?"

Julius raised an eyebrow, an awakened priest wasn't beyond the realms of possibility, but out here, wherever here was? "What do you mean, Father?" He asked, tentatively, the strength of the vision still filling his mind with unanswered questions. "I mean that it has been some time since one of the children of Caine passed this way, but you are welcome here as are all of God's creatures."

"Then," Julius spoke slowly, "May I ask a question?"

"You just did." Nicodemus smiled. "But please, ask another."

"What must a kindred renounce?"

"Renounce? A strange question, my son. Why do you ask it?"

"I have been searching for something. A relic of importance to my kind, to kindred. Now I'm not sure what I'm looking for. I climbed the mountain overlooking Lake Van, to the ancient citadel upon the heights."

The old priest nodded. "I have visited it myself."

"I hoped to find some clues there, to what I sought. Something of the ancient peoples that once dwelt there. Instead... I saw something quite different, inspirational, leading to my question. What must a kindred renounce?"

"Tell me, my son. What did you see?"

"Very well, Father."

And Julius began.

[b:0b91a4a160]The Vision of Julius[/b:0b91a4a160]

Julius is flying through clear cool air. A hint of moisture is on the breeze as he surveys the lands beneath him. Lush greenery lies below, with delicate mists rising from the Arcadian valleys to meet verdant forest on the higher ground. Yet, somehow superimposed beneath this lush vista, desert and alkaline wastelands seem to coexist with the bountiful greenery of this virgin landscape.

Ahead, he can see a great waterfall, or something much like it, issuing from a great light, so bright that it hurts his eyes to gaze upon it. From the base of the waterfall, an idyllic river flows through a mystical forest glade, dividing once, then again, so that four rivers flow. All manner of birds and animals dwell here. Some, he recognizes from his own experience, some from pictures of those long since extinct, indeed, some of the creatures surely existed only in legend, yet all seem to dwell happily within the confines of the panorama beneath him.

Slowly Julius settles onto a well worn path. It is somehow familiar to him, striking deep in his heart with a feeling of belonging. Travelling along the path leads to an ancient apple tree, gnarled and twisted, but quite fertile, with many fruits hanging from it's branches. Laying on the floor, by the tree is a half eaten apple.

Suddenly the ground lurches and begins to move, faster and faster, beneath his unmoving feet. Julius passes a great golden elm tree, which appears to be wreathed in flame, coiling and burning towards the skies. He is lifted back into the air, like the take off of a bird, faster and faster, higher and higher. He turns back to look at Paradise and gets the feeling of a great pair of eyes, eyes watching him, filled with enormous sadness and endless compassion as he is expelled from Eden.

Then Julius falls. Falls from the great height to slam back to earth in a rocky desert. He almost recognizes his surroundings for the hills and valleys seem in their undulating waves to share the shapes of the lands he has just left. Sand fills his mouth and thorny vines wrap around his legs, twisting up about his body, his scream is lost, soundless against the roaring wind which has arisen. Julius feels his skin being ripped from his bones as the thousands of years of blowing sand whip about him.

Empires rise and fall as the years pass, flood waters rise and then abate. The noise is unbearable, an unending cacophony of sound, raging like a volcanic eruption. Then, suddenly, all is silent, all is dark. Julius stands once again in the Citadel above Lake Van, seeing into both realms. Eden is not gone, it has simply receded.

Then does the vision change and as though watching a film at the cinema, he sees his Thrall, his love, Eveshka. She is robed in black and speaking to a priest, who is attired in the manner of the Roman Catholic church. They shimmer in the night sky, the vision created by Julius' auspex and magical powers still allowing him to perceive the great waterfall. He turns from Eve to face the sound of the falling water and once again feels, rather than sees the ancient eyes upon him.

It is as though the presence behind those eyes is reaching out to him, calling him by name. As the vision fades, he hears a whisper in his mind, "Renounce it all and come home, Child of Caine."

Eveshka got on a Darrant jet bound for Turkey the next night. Her clothing had changed a considerable amount. She no longer wore the heighth of fashion and style. She was not the goddess of beauty, love, and all things sparkly. She more resembled an extremely beautiful Cappadocian than anything else. She stepped off the plane and into the waiting limo dressed in a floor length black velvet cloak with the hood drawn up. Something about her had changed.

The old priest nodded slowly and thoughtfully as Julius finished recanting his vision. If what Julius had seen was true, then Eden lay, just out of reach, in the very lands he had walked in his youth.

"You have given me much to consider, my son." Said Nicodemus. "Your vision was powerful indeed. I will need a little time to think and pray."

Julius groaned. "I've left my stuff at the citadel."

Instinctively and with his usual casual flair, Julius cast a spell of summoning, bringing his skull, laptop and other possessions to his side. Nicodemus stared, open mouthed. "Oh." Apologized Julius. "I didn't meant to give offence. I know that some consider magic to be the work of evil powers."

"On the contrary." Replied Nicodemus. "I was more than a little impressed with your ability. You are correct, some do indeed believe that magic is evil. I am not amongst them. All power, I believe comes from God. The power to work miracles, the power to create magic, the power of one man over another. The Lord God is the creator of the world and all the marvels within it, even the Devil himself was created, by God. So, if all power comes from God, then how can we say that the power itself is evil? My son, it is not the power that is evil, it is the use of power that can be evil. If it is the power to kill a man or save him. The power to use a sword or a ploughshare. The power to raise a demon, or to exorcise one. The power we have, simply from our existance can be used for good or ill. Like all of God's creation it is Holy and Blesséd, be power mundane or miraculous. It is in the hearts of men that one finds good and evil, not in the summoning of a..." Nicodemus looked at the skull and at the computer. "...whatever those are!" He smiled.

"Go now," He continued. "Return again to me tomorrow, when I will have considered your question more carefully. May God bless you and keep you." He concluded, making the sign of the cross over Julius' head.

"Thankyou, Father." Said Julius simply, heading out into the evening, to locate his car and head back for Trabzon.

In her new office at Darrant Industries R&D, Willow Ducheski hit the redail button on her phone, checking the call's progress via the satellite uplinks, It was getting through to her mistress' phone. Willow had even sent a status test request to the phone which responded as 98.8666% operational despite not being charged recently. Morathi had even left the phone's GPS tracker beacon on, indicating the phone was still in her hotel room, she was simply not answering...

[i:6e8ab21016]"This is not like her.... Mistress Morathi practically sleeps with that phone.... She must be engaged in a ritual she cannot inturrupt...."[/i:6e8ab21016]

Willow tried to reassure herself, in her experience as Morathi's aide, her mistress had only been unreachable like this on 2 occasions, once in New Orleans after the Alice incident, and once when she had been recalled to Vienna to anwser for her part in the loss of the New Orleans Chantry, both incidents that had left her mistress changed somehow...

Reluctantly Willow sent on her gathered research on Proto-Scythian culture as an encypted databurst, hopefully her mistress' would resume regular communications soon...

Eveshka sat in a darkened room in Julius' hotel haven in Trabazon. She sat there completely silent sitting in a chair, not lounging around like a cat in heat on the bed as she would normally have done. She still wore the black velvet cloak and wore a rosary around her neck. Julius walked into the room several hours later. He sensed that she was there, but not precisely where she was. He turned on the light and jumped a bit upon seeing that he was not alone. He took a good long look at the cloaked figure and then muttered, "Oh Christ."

Gabriel had met with Hassan and lived to tell the tale. Well, he hadn't told the tale yet, but he DID live. He sneaked back out of Iraq by way of Iran, of all places. The young Ventrue walked the streets of Tehran in wonder. The blend of old and new was quite seemless. Things melded together perfectly: tall minarets back dropped by modern office blocks that refelcted the clear Tehran night like a mirror. He was walking towards his temporary haven with two members of his entourage. He was on a relatively well to do street lined coursing with people, then suddenly he wasn't. In the matter of what seemed to be a blink of an eye he found he was in a darkened alleyway all alone. Something was different though. He looked around and found that the moon was much lower in the western sky. Several hours must have passed. Where the hell was he? He walked in a westerly direction hoping to find something familiar or a landmark from which to guide his steps. What he did find was a well built man a bald head and african features standing beneath the awning of an empty street shop. The man smiled at Gabriel. He could not speak English, but he managed to communicate telepathically, "Why do you seek Ali. young puppy?"

[i:b5cc6b33cd]"Why do you seek Ali, young puppy?"[/i:b5cc6b33cd]

The affront which normally would've brought a wash of anger and resentment from the young Ventrue stagnated in the air for a moment before disapating. Gabriel had completely lost his bearings and was now even more confused with the arrival of this dusky stranger.

[i:b5cc6b33cd]"Was it you who brought me here?"[/i:b5cc6b33cd] Gabriel asked, his voice seemed to echo nearly deafeningly off the alleyway walls. Even the caked grime that wedged itself between the bricks of the walls shone in the dim lamplight that struggled to reach the back of the alleyway.

The stranger's grin was visible even in the shadows that surrounded the pair. He walked fluidly, his footsteps first resounding in front of the young Ventrue, and then miraculously behind him. The pace was slow and deliberate, yet casual enough to liken to a stroll. He obviously felt himself in no danger as he melded from shadow to shadow, the only trace of his presence a gleaming smile and a pair of serpentine eyes.

[i:b5cc6b33cd]"Answering a question with a question...hmmmm..."[/i:b5cc6b33cd] the smile broadened and then faded from view. Had Gabriel not been overwhelmed with dread he might've made the connection between this odd stranger and the Chesire Cat.

[i:b5cc6b33cd]"I wasn't seeking any Ali...I was seeking answers."[/i:b5cc6b33cd] Gabriel said to apparently empty air.

((grah, sorry, can't really continue. i need to RP this out with Ali..i've no inkling of a grasp of this character or what his motives are.