Your Majesty, These are the files we found with the criminal. It appears he was in correspondence with another vampire, either working for him or blackmailing him. As you requested, I put his ashes in one bag and his hands in another. Barnes
nail. My lineage. My sire was John Link. His sire, my grandsire, was Octavia Werner, also known as “Octavia the Mother” for the way she babied – and punished – those lesser than her. She was a great Dragon. Is a great Dragon, I suppose, not that I’ve laid eyes or ears on her in the last thirty years. Her presence was deeply commanding: a wash of red, a twist of hunger, a flurry of old and dead passions stirred like moths shaken from a branch. She would hold me and her other lesser in her arms, gently scratching their backs until the skin started to wear away. Comforting. Lion:
If you say so. And her sire?
Mindaugus. Lithuanian gentleman, as old as the word “old.” Never met him, I’m afraid, but John described him as a long, reedy, pale thing. Tall and dusty like a bone stuck in the earth. He could feel the intimate movements of his domain: every footfall upon the ground, every snap of every twig, every breath from every traitor within its borders. Not many kings like that anymore, I’ll tell you that. Lord:
They say some within our people can do that. Lion:
In the Savages? Forgive me, but not bloody likely. Anyway. Before Mindaugus, you have Vytautas. Said to be a god, birthed from the Crone’s own black belly. Don’t know that I buy that. I know John didn’t, and Octavia… well, she’d seen enough in her life and Requiem to question the realities of divinity versus profanity. Still. It’s a fascinating tidbit. Vytautas was said to be a “god of impeccable grooming.” Perhaps that’s true after all. Lord:
Lion:
Not a hair out of place.
Lord:
Exactly.
Moving on. The salon with the Frenchie name… Lion:
Les précieuses. Though that’s not the salon’s name. That’s who attends the salon. It means “the precious ones,” more or less. We gather, play word games, invent fairy tales, engage in fervid but mannered debate. Lord:
I thought I was talking to a Lord, not a Lady of the Daeva. Lord: Don’t make me take another finger, or worse, the hand. Lion:
Lion:
Sorry.
Fine. The Daeva are ruled by their insipid passions. They are slaves to them, whereas we are masters of ours. Is it wrong to be the masters of language? Of the social spheres? Of manners? All the tools of war, the tools of authority? Lord:
Telling fairy tales is the tool of authority? Lord: You miss the point. Fairy tales are fantastical, even whimsical. But they contain morals. Dark and grim little lessons. Would you like to hear one? Lion: Go for it. Lord: Let me see, let me see. Ah! Yes. The tale of ’Tattercoats.’ Heard this one? Lion:
I have not not. Young Tatt Tattercoa rcoat ts was a little girl girl, grand gran ddaught aughte er of a migh might ty lord lord. This This lord lord, , her gra grandfat ndfath her, da dared not not look upon or or talk to Tatt Tatte ercoat rcoats s – who was, by the way, ca called that beca because he would only allow her nurs nurses to dress her in rags an and – Lion: Tatt Tatte ers. I get it. it. Lord: Don’ Don’t t inte inter rrupt or you’ll los lose the lesson esson. . Wher Where e was I? Of course. The gr grandfather, you see see, hate hated the little girl with a passion, for her mother die died givi giving bir birth to her. The grandfather blam blame ed the little girl for suc such a bloody and brut brutal gra grasp at life, and that is why he summar ummari ily ign ignored her at every tu turn. One One nigh night t the mi mighty lord went off to one of his his many grand partie arties s: a ball host hosted by the local pri prince. Tatter attercoats was, of course, not not allo allow wed to go to the royal ball, oh no. Sh She stay stayed in the woods, pl playing with a loca local l goos goose eherd and his wandering ge geese, when along cam came – can you guess? Lion: Lion: Lord: Lord :
Lion:
What?
Lord:
Guess. I’m gi giving yo you the oppor opport tunity to inte inter rrupt. This is is how we we do it amon among g the precious ones. Banter anter. . Back and for forth. Lion: Lion : Along came a spid spider? Lord:
Different Diffe rent story, sorry sorry. . No, along came the the prince. prince. He He was lost in in the woods and unable unable to find his way to his own party! So So he asked for directi directions, ons, an and dirty dirt y little little Tatterc Tattercoats oats told him him the the way. He asked asked her to come come to the ball ball at midnig idnight, ht, dressed dressed just just as she was, was, and and he would reward reward he her. Lion: So she we went to the bal ball… Obviousl iously y she did. An And at midnig idnigh ht, not only did the princ prince e ask for her hand in marri marr iage, bu but the goose gooseh herd be became a magi magical pip piper and and the geese be became her squ squires. And when when they did, he her tatt tattered rags bec became a gown as beaut beauti iful an and diap diaphanous as moo moonlight. She becam became e the prince rinces ss and one day the queen, and the mighty lord – who had vowed to neve never look upon her – could never again rejoin th the roya royals. Lion: Great stor story. Lord:
Lord: Lord : Lion: Lord: Lion:
The lesson lesson, pleas please. The lesson esson, , plea pleas se, what what? Tell me the lesso lesson n? Don’t have kids?
Lord: Funny. No. The The less lesso on is to alway always s keep your eyes on your childe ilder r; because if you don’t wat watch them them, they they’ll on one day rise up up to take your place.
If you say so. Lord: Do you you not think it it’s tru true? Lion: Hell if I know. know. My sire sire is nowhere to be found, eithe either r off pissing pissing on trees trees in the woods wood s or a greas greasy y pile of dust dust in an an alley alley somewhere. somew here. And I don’t have any plans plans to embrace – not not that I could could get permi permission ssion if I tried. tried. Unlike Unlike you. you. Which Which leads leads to – Lord: Why have haven n’t I chosen a prot proté égé? Lion:
Lion:
Yeah. Yeah.
I wi will. It It’s no no quick thing thing, , this choice hoice. . As immorta mortal l crea creat tures we have been afforde forded d the greates eatest t bene benef fit in regard egards s to the Embr Embra ace: we can ch choose our chil children. We only need to shap shape them them as much as we car care to. Otherw therwi ise, we see wh what is best an and pick it, lik like going through an enti entire orc orchard and look looking for for the juicie icies st, fatt fattest pl plum. Others, su such as you Sa Savages, those Succu Succub bi, beget bege t chil child der out out of passion and grotesq tesqu ue sponta spont aneity neity. . Most of ou our ki kind watch the potent otenti ials fo for ye years, so sometim etime es decades. A wine grows better by th the age. age. So does blood. We child childr ren of the ni night get better and strong tronge er as the long nights pa pass, so so it onl only seems fitting to let ou our pote potential choice oices s have their chanc hance e to ripen a bit, don’t you you thin think k? Lion: So you’ you’v ve be bee en wa wat tching ching. . Yo You ur “poten “pote ntial tials s.” Lord: Oh, ye yes. You You shou shoul ld see the dos dossiers siers. . I’ve go got at least fi five comp competing for the the honor, and anothe nother r four who sti still hav have a chance to shine shine. . They don’t know it, of of cour cours se. They’ll know it when I’ve ch chosen, thoug though h. The on one shal shall live live. Eter Eternally nally. . The others… well, if they they don’ don’t t meas measu ure up, I dare dare not risk some weaker lout lout pluc pluck king th them up off the groun ground d. Lord:
You’ll kil kill l them them. . Most likel likely y. One might end up up in my servic servi ce. The rest? Eh. Di Disposab posabl le. Lion:
Lord:
Lion: Lord:
That’s cold. Is it?
Lion: Yeah, if you as ask me. Though hough, , shit, I’m sitting he here mis missing a fing finge er. So maybe I’m just holdi holdin ng a grudge. Lord: Which is so unbecom becomi ing. Ar Are we done? I’m I’m growin rowing g tire tired d of this. Th The veil veiled ins insults. The atti attitude with whi which you you assa assai il me. Lion: I guess that’s good enough. You as asked me earlie arlier r if I was fri frighten ghtene ed of you. Lord: Yes. I did. did. Lion: I am afraid fraid. . But I look at you you, and I see that you’re still a man, stil still l human in there. Cling lingi ing to it like a piece of driftw riftwo ood out out in the cold ocean. Me? I don’t don’ t know that I care so muc much abou about that that part of me anymor ymore e. And that ma makes me me less afraid raid. . Maybe less afraid than I shoul should d be, I don’t know. Lord: Lord : You offen offend d me. Yo You shou shoul ld go now, wh whi ile you can esc escape wi with the the rest of you your parts still attac attach hed. Lion:
Thanks for th the inte inter rview. Lord: You owe me, me, remem remember. I’ I’ll call call upon you. Lion: No doubt doubt. .
To: Anonymous (
[email protected] (
[email protected]) om) Start Time: 11:10:28 AM; End Time: 1:45:39 PM >I am changing. >I have no pride in ancestry. My ancestors can go to hell. Some of them have. Sometimes by my hand. >I merely will the blood to change, and I feel it change. >Icanhearthingst >Icanheart hingsthatIc hatIcouldno ouldnothear thearbefore before.Thewa .Thewaydatao ydataows ws through a conduit is the way blood ekes through my dry arteries. >I can hear the data. >Iwonderif >Iwon derifit’sG it’sGodspe odspeaking akingtome. tome. >I admit: that would make sense. >I am better than the others. If He were to speak to anyone, why not me? >I deserve this. To: Anonymous (ChangingBlood@DO-NOT-REPLY (
[email protected]) .com) Start Time: 1:30:17 PM; End Time: 2:25:32 PM >I am changing. >I feel the blood shifting. Some have said it feels like a hardening of the blood, a tightening of the vessels within, a girding. >Idon’t fee feel l tha that.I t.I fee feel l itloosen itloosening ing, , rel relaxi axing, ng, eas easing ing fre freeof eof its mooring.Easingfreeofitsexpectations. >I hate the others. >Iloathemysire.BecauseIamyounganddiferen >Iloathemysire.Becau seIamyounganddiferenttheyhumiliat ttheyhumiliateand eand abuse me.
>Iwillhavemyrevenge.Theydon’tknowwhatIambecoming. To: Anonymous (ChangingBlood@DO-NOT-REPLY (
[email protected]) .com) Start Time: 3:22:55 AM; End Time: 4:13:20 AM >I am changing. >I can feel power moving through the walls. >I can smell information. >I can plug CAT-5 cable into my neck, my arm, the back of my leg and I can feel the data coming through me. >I cannot change it, not yet. >I cannot communicate, not yet. >I will be able to soon, though. Five years. Maybe ten. Soon. To: Anonymous (
[email protected]) Start Time: 12:10:28 PM; End Time: 1:12:45 PM >I have changed. >Godhasgiftedmewewiththewaytodestroymybetters. >Godhasshownmethewaytheworldsmerge. >Godhasshinedhislightdownuponmeandgivenmehope. >Godtoldmehowtoleavethisemptyeshbehind. >Godtoldmehowtheeshisasin,howmatterisbase,vile. >Godtoldmehowthesoulandmindarefree,arepure,aregood. >I will be good. My blood is pure. >IamGod. >Upload complete.
Th is is i s pr oba bly ly bbull s sh h it it . T h h e th ing ing s s su suggge s ste ted d h er e a re re j u s st t nnot pos s si i ble le.. T h h is is i s snn’t ’t a a r ef ni ng o t t h he bl ood , i t’ t’ s s th e ra ra y yi i n g o a a n a lr lr ea ea d d y t y t a a t tter ter ed d m mi nd . I h a a v ve pr ov i id ed d d i i t t only ly i i n t h h e i nt er e st st oo compl et ene s s.
The Houston underworld is tricky in recent nights. We used to share the night with home grown criminals, people who respected order and hierarchy (if you took them on their own terms). One of the lovely things about damnation, of course, is being able to tell people what their own terms are. Now... we’re packed in. Stuck with wit h foreigners and heretics and parasites, the living and the dead alike. Colonel Lake could have kept a lid on this stew stew.. That was his one and only virtue. Unfortunately,, Lake went rabid, and I had to put him down. I have to put down a lot Unfortunately now.. Which is why I met with Clark White, the Middle Man. now Another interview, and another piece from Genevieve, Speaker for the College of Harpies in Houston. She certainly is a busy little bee.
GENEVIEVE: GENEVIEV E: May I call you Clark? Mister White? We’re on neutral ground. A shed out in the suburbs. There’s a tone of respect in the We’re air,, and I can’t tell if it’s his blood or his reputation. air
CLARK: Sure. You know it’s not my name. Yeah, I know. The kids say he’s been awake ve hundred years – that he sold himself to the devil and drove a hard bargain.
G: Anything you prefer? That devil was one of us. Always is. And so I’ve got a picture-perfect Indian, dressed in a nice blue suit. Neat haircut, too. Bet he has to do it over every night.
C: Nothing you could pronounce, whitey. Hint of a smile, there.
G: Whitey’s not my name, either. He laughs, and that’s the rst sign I have that he’s a day past fty. New lines spider across his skin, and for a moment I can believe he’s as old as they say. Scares the hell out of me.
C: You wanted something? G: A year ago, I hadn’t heard of you. Now I can’t stop. I’m curious. C: You want to make a deal. G: If we can. C: If not? G: Then you’re someone else’s problem. My College is worried about the peace, about the Masquerade. Violence is someone else’s job. C: Very civilized. G: Very organized. Now, you’re from New Orleans? C: Most recently. I’m from up northeast. G: And your sire? C: An Englishman. An exile who came to hunt savages in the woods. Easy prey, he gured. That ghost of a smile again.
G: You weren’t, I take it? C: Oh, I was the easiest prey. Happens he realized the same the humans did... he needed a native guide. So he and I came to an arrangement. His accent slides around, this guy. Now he’s parodying a Texan, and it rubs me the wrong way.
G: You make a lot of arrangements. The foreigners must respect you quite a bit. C: ‘Foreigners.’ Not that far. Yes, they respect me. I understand them. They’re exiled, hungry. A few were lucky enough to follow their herds, but now they face poachers. Helps them to know that there’s somebody who will listen. Somebody who’ll be listened to. G: You’ve got quite a few friends in those herds, too. C: My words go a long way, and they know that. Their families have been taken away. Their homes, businesses. I’ve been helping them nd new ones. G: You’ve been helping some of them go back. Kindred and kine? C: A few, yes. G: You haven’t been sending them back alone. C: I’ve been having a look at the territory. I told your Commander what they’ve seen. G: And he’s shared it. Ghosts, demons, degenerates... degenerates... we’re taking it with salt. C: Even though your men say the same thing? G: Our men are still having their look. They tell us your guys seem to be setting up shop. Making reservations reservations? ? It’s an outside shot, but it’s an insult. Hooks what I want.
C: You know about that, huh? G: We know. We know you helped generations of Yankee soldiers push your people around. Box them up nice and neat so you didn’t have to follow them around. C: Jealous? G: I admire the elegance. New Orleans took the Catholic centuries to put together. You’ve been putting up happy hunting grounds for fun every fty years or so. You’ve C: Don’t give me too much of the credit. The mortals did most of the work. G: The way it should be. You’re putting a lot of work into New Orleans now, though. C: People who listen to me are. G: Everyone listens to you. C: Exactly Exact ly.. G: Except for the Commander. He’d like to be friends. But he wants you to pull your men back here. C: He’s not in a position to make me listen to him, either. G: Fair. We’re both smiling, right into each other’s eyes.
C: We can’t do business, can we? G: I don’t think it’s my problem.
