Pointing the Fingers.

soundtrack: This Blood by Black Lab




These past few weeks have been total insanity.  Even Serendipity would agree, I think.  With Ayume and Antonia gone, I took the opportunity to do some research on a few things, and then I headed out into Baltimore to take care of a few more things.  The ladies had the BMW, so I took the Ducati.  Franka hated that thing, but there was just something about a motorcycle that felt right to me.  I come from an era when the most common means of transportation was horseback, and I guess the closest thing to that in these modern nights was my Ducati.



Antonia was, in a lot of ways, exactly what I was hoping to find when I came to Baltimore.  A Lasombra that hadn't been corrupted by sabbat teachings, one that I could teach instead.  My position as Sheriff had given me the ability to spare her existence when we discovered her, and at the time the only reason I had done so was because she knew enough to claim that she was Sabbat, but not enough to know that telling that fact to an Archon on a Camarilla Elysium was an almost guaranteed way to get killed.  It turns out that her sire abandonded her soon after she was embraced.

I hit the accelerator on the bike as I took the winding road that led from the mansion to the city proper.  Speed may kill, but it also lets me think.  I had a lot of thinking to do.

The Sheriff's position itself had come as something of a shock.  One minute, Prince Baltimore was hitting me hard enough to make me wonder how someone had gotten a train into the Elysium, and the next minute he was telling me that I was his new Sheriff.  I didn't have much to complain about in that regard, aside from the fact that everything seemed to be going wrong in this city at once, and we still had no idea what had caused the mass disappearance of the city's former kindred population.  Well, that and the fact that apparently Archon Eden had decided that I was his personal attack dog.

The Ohio trip had turned into a total clusterfuck.  We were sent there, officially, to hunt down and kill an independent Gangrel that had made a habit of embracing kids.  We didn't even make it off the runway we touched down on before things went wrong.  Burning planes, gun fights, dead and captured ghouls, a justicar, and an independent Gangrel that was dead before we got there.  I haven't even begun to figure out what really went on that night, but I needed to, and quickly.  It seems that someone had been watching.

World Nightly News, a tabloid publication, has been a thorn in our side lately.  They've been getting a little bit too close to the truth, and somehow they were able to find out about the airport debacle and report on it. To top that off, some of Chi-Mer's ghouls were now in the custody of the US army, from what I had been told.  None of this was anything resembling good, and of course, since I'm the Sheriff, it's my job to figure out how to set it right.  This was in addition to dealing with the ghost of a nun that possesses true faith and has been haunting our Elysium, figuring out where the hell the local Sabbat were holed up at, teaching Antonia, assisting the Tremere with the rebuilding of both their chancery and their library, and determining exactly what was going on with Testament.  At least the freakish "keeper" had been dealt with.  I think we scared it off rather than actually killing it though.  Hard to say for sure - I'm not exactly an expert on things that bleed ice and light when you open up their belly with a shotgun blast.

Here it is.  Druid Hill, one of the nastier areas of Baltimore.  I was in need of a set of fingerbones, and I figure that the best place to get them would be from someone who was better off dead anyway.  I parked the Ducati somewhere conspicuous but away from police cameras and waited, just out of sight.  I pulled the shadows to me for added concealment.  It didn't take long for the expensive bike to attract the wrong - or right, in this case - kind of attention.  I waited for the crackhead to begin trying to hotwire my motorcycle before I stepped out of the shadows and put a 9mm to his head.  The Lemat was far too unique for a job like this.

"Did you find something you like?"

"Easy man, easy man!!  I was just admiring, you know?  Just admiring the ride, is all!"  He tried to turn his head to face me, but I jammed the barrel of the gun into the back of his skull and he thought better of that.

"And I suppose you were trying to get to the ignition wires so you could admire those too, right?"

"Alright brother, alright!  I'm just out here trying to make some extra money, you know?  A little bit of extra green to feed the kids, right?  You know how it is!"

"More likely you were trying to find the money to feed your addiction."

"Whatever you say man, whatever you say!  Just don't shoot me!  Look, I got a few rocks in my pocket, you can take 'em if you want 'em!"

I reached my free hand into the crackhead's coat pocket and threw the baggie into the nearest sewer in disgust.  "Do you want to get out of this without getting shot?"

"Yeah man!  I'll do anything you want me to, just don't shoot me!"  He had started shaking, but I couldn't tell if it was from fear or withdraw.  Probably both.

"Fine.  Start walking.  If you turn around, I shoot you.  If you don't do exactly what I say, I shoot you."

Wordlessly, the crackhead started walking towards a back alley behind a no-tell motel, out of sight of the main road and the parking lot.  "Put your hands up and stand up against the wall."  He did as he was told while I put the 9mm away and pulled out a plastic baggie and a hatchet.  I took the back end of the hatchet to the back of his skull.  He slumped to the ground, unconscious or dead, I couldn't tell and honestly didn't care.

Back when I was a boy, there was a common punishment for thieves.  I never quite understood why it had been done away with in modern nights... a few minutes later, I put the two severed hands into the plastic baggie and threw the hatchet into the same sewer that I had thrown the bag of crack.  Baltimore City's water usage would wash any traces of blood off of the hatchet, if the cops even bothered to look in a sewer for a weapon that had been used to assault a crackhead, which was doubtful.  I hopped back on the bike and headed towards the Tremere chantry.  The hands, or at least the finger bones, were for them.

And besides that, I wanted to discuss the letter in my pocket with Testament, as well as the symbol that had been burned into my front door.

To Defend a Duchess.

SOUNDTRACK HERE

France, sometime around 1540....

I walked across the flagstoned courtyard of our "familial" estate, feeling an odd longing for the sensation of sweat that should have been pouring off of my body but otherwise in fine spirits.  My older "brother" Samuel and I had spent the evening sparring with one another, and tonight I had finally managed to defeat him.  I rested my longsword on my shoulder and grinned as Samuel and I exchanged barbs and jokes while he critiqued my form.  The fact that I had bested him tonight did not mean that I had nothing more to learn from him - he had 150 years of experience on me in this matter.  All it meant was that I was a fast learner and, as my sire Lucius had pointed out when I started my training 8 years ago, a "natural talent with a blade".  I had learned a lot over those years, primarily that natural talent was no substitute for hard work and experience, no matter what the person in question was talented at doing.

Besides, if I started to routinely beat Samuel, Lucius would just task Michael with continuing my training.  The only time I had ever seen Michael lose a sword fight was when he sparred against Lucius or our grandsire, Sargon.

We walked into the estate itself, placing our weapons on the racks that held them, and proceeded up a flight of stairs to the hallway that led to our living quarters.  We had both expended a decent amount of vitae tonight and had planned on cleaning up and then going out to the surrounding city to eat.  The hallway was rather dimly lit with candles set into the walls, and it took me a second to realize that one of Lucius's mortal servants had been patiently waiting for us to return from the evenings activities.  He bowed before speaking - which is how I realized he was there.

"Master Tybalt, Lord Cygnus awaits you in his study for a private audience.  He has asked that you attend him immediately after your training has ended for the evening."

I glanced at Samuel, but all I got from the blonde man was a raised, inquisitive eyebrow.  "Best not to keep father waiting.  I suppose our evening on the town will have to be postponed."  I nodded in agreement and, without another word, made my way to Lucius's study.

Upon entry, I noticed that we would not be alone for this meeting.  Stuffed into a small but comfortable corner of the study sat three kindred; Lucius, my grandsire Sargon, and a man I had never met before.  The three all held goblets of red wine in their hands, wine suffused with blood I was sure, and on the table in front of them was a large map.  Sargon said nothing as I entered, he simply cast a disapproving glance towards my dirty attire and sighed, the one habit the tall Bablyonian still held from his mortal days.  I quickened my pace and bowed, waiting to be addressed before rising.

"Please Tybalt, take a seat.  I'm certain that Lord Sargon will forgive me if I give you leave to dispense with formalities this evening."  Those words came as something of a shock to me.  Given that I was adopted into clan Ventrue, still in the middle of my agoge, and considered an unreleased childe, Lucius was usually adamant about making sure I observed every aspect of formality and protocol.  My failure to do so would reflect poorly on him.  Something was definitely afoot.

I sat in the only available seat, a chair directly across from my sire, with Sargon to my left and the strange, dark haired kindred to my right.  "Tybalt, I would like to introduce you to Adriano Genovese, Primogen of Clan Toreador in Sicily and an associate of mine."  The dark haired Toreador smiled and offered me a goblet of wine, which I accepted.  "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Genovese."

"Please, Adriano will do."  He rolled his R, but otherwise there was no accent at all.  I nodded and sipped my blood wine.  "Adriano, then.  I apologize."  What was this?  I was sitting in a private meeting with my sire, the grandsire that had never seemed to approve of me, and a high ranking member of another clan.  I felt like wolf cub staring down three pack alphas.  Adriano chuckled.  "I see what you mean, Lucius.  Polite to a fault.  However, I'd like to make certain that he has a spine underneath that polish before he meets her."

That comment galled me a bit.  I may be young, but I've seen more than some kindred twice my age have, and I was not about to sit by while a Rose casually insinuated that I couldn't deal with a mere woman.  "She must be quite ferocious to elicit such concern from you, Adriano.  Shall I prove my courage to you by hunting down a bar wench?  I imagine it can't be much more difficult than hunting Lasombra."

My retort earned me a quick snort of humor from Sargon, something rare enough that I could count the number of times I had seen it on one hand.  Lucius laughed quietly while Adriano simply grinned.  "Your sire has already informed me of your extracurricular activities, Tybalt.  It's not your courage or combat prowess I question.  Rather, it's the fire in your soul, although I must admit that your response to me does seem promising even if you did misinterpret my concerns.  My childe can be a handful at times."

"Your childe?"

"Yes.  Allow me to explain."  He refilled his goblet - and mine - before continuing.  "My childe, Franka, has managed to garner quite a bit of animosity from the Giovanni in Sicily.  It seems that they intended for her to join their family, rather than the Toreador.  Personally, I find their grievances to be both misplaced and of little consequence.  In fact, I would not even be addressing this issue at all, save for the fact that my old friend Lucius has asked me to accompany him on an..... adventure of sorts," he grinned a very fang-filled grin at this point, one that my sire returned, "and I will not be in Sicily for some time, leaving her without my support.  In addition, I have seen to it that she will be taking my place as Primogen, and not everyone in the clan of the Rose is happy with this arrangement."

I had heard of the Giovanni.  Not only were they a thorn in the side of clan Ventrue's attempts to expand our economic endeavors, but they could also control ghosts, if the rumors were to be believed.  Adriano continued.

"Normally, of course, I have the resources to see to it that my childe would be protected.  However, the Giovanni have already made one attempt on her life with the foul spirits they control, and that attempt left three ghouls and two kindred dead.  That is why I am seeking you specifically, Tybalt."

Was I hearing this correctly?  Adriano's childe had managed to anger the Giovanni enough that their assassination attempt had killed five of her protectors, and somehow I was not only expected to take their place, but this fop actually believed that I would succeed where five others had failed?

"I'm not sure I understand your reasoning, Adriano.  How is it that you believe I am the equivalent to five men?

"Not the equivalent, Tybalt.  More than the equivalent.  You see, I am aware of your particular... blood-borne talents.  You are most unique among the Ventrue."

He knew.  He knew.  My heart would have skipped a beat, if it was still capable of such a thing.

"The Giovanni's horrid little pets have an abject terror of the darkness that you control, almost similar to the terror we feel when confronted with fire, and for much the same reason.  It is anathema to them, literally capable of undoing their existence.  Between that talent and your more mundane skills, such as what you were practicing earlier, I believe you will be a most excellent escort for Franka in the coming nights while I am away."

My mind was still recovering from the realization that this stranger knew what I was.  "I'm not sure you understand my position within clan Ventrue, Adriano.  I am still undergoing my Agoge, and have not been released.  Would it not be better if you were to seek assistance from a Lasombra in Sicily?"  As much as I hated the idea of suggesting that anyone parlay with those bastards, the truth was that I wouldn't be allowed to do this.  It would violate the laws of our clan.

"If I were to do that, I fear that my childe would fall prey to the same person charged with her protection.  You see, Franka was a duchess in her mortal life, and she still holds most of the perks that such a station entitles her to.  I fear that I would come home to find my childe alive but stripped of all that she has, were I to ask the Keepers for this favor.  I need someone I trust, and I trust your sire.  I am willing to extend that trust to you, based on the fact that you are his childe.  As for your first concern..."

Lucius rose from his seat.  "Tybalt Alonzo Carmichael Cygnus.  I hereby release you from your Agoge and all the constraints that come with it.  From this moment on, you are no longer merely the unreleased childe of Lucius Cygnus.  You are fully recognized as a Ventrue on this night, as witnessed by Sargon, elder of the clan."

Sargon snorted.  I remained silent and stunned.  Released?  Traditionally the Agoge lasted for at least fifty years.  I wasn't even half way through that time period yet.  Sargon looked me in the eyes, and suddenly his raspy voice filled my mind.

This violation of tradition does not mean that you have proven yourself in my eyes, whelp.  I will be watching you long into the future, and I will not hesitate to destroy you if I see so much as a hint that you may disgrace my line.

My mouth went dry.  I drained the goblet.  It didn't help.  Lucius, no doubt aware of what had just happened, refilled it as he spoke.  "I will arrange for a proper reception for your release after you return, but circumstances prevent us from having the time to do so now.  Unfortunately, this means that you will be without many of the resources that newly released Ventrue usually have access to for the time being."  He gripped my shoulder and grinned.  "Tybalt, don't take that to mean that I am displeased with you.  On the contrary, I would never have agreed to this if I didn't think you were ready for such a thing.  Unlike some," he cast a pointed glance at Sargon, who snorted again, "I have never doubted your potential or your worth."

The rest of the evening was a blur of plotting my journey to Sicily and briefing me on the names and importance of various kindred there.  The next night, I found that my belongings had already been packed and a carriage was waiting for me.  As I walked out the gate towards it, I was suddenly aware of Sargon standing in front of me, seemingly appearing out of the night itself.  "Whelp, these are yours now.  Take them."  I found myself staring at two curved, moorish style blades, obviously intended to be used as a pair.

"You may not know it, but I have watched you fight," said that raspy voice of my grandsire.  "You use both hands.  I've seen it.  Now, you will learn to use them both at the same time.  You will fight like I fight, because so few can."

It was the only time Sargon had ever given me anything but disapproval.  Reverently, I took the swords from him.  "I will do as you ask, grandsire.  I will make these a part of me."

"You had better, whelp, because when you return home I'll be waiting to test your skill with them in the courtyard."  He smiled, actually smiled, at me.  "Now, begin your journey, as it will be a long one."

And that is how my sire sent me off to babysit a spoiled Toreador duchess that I wanted nothing to do with, as a favor to one of his coterie mates, without a second thought about my own opinions on the matter.