Shattered Scepters

DISCLAIMER:
The Clan names, discipline names and structure, titles other things are copyrighted to White Wolf Game Studio neither I, nor this story, are affiliated with White Wolf or any of their associates or subsidiaries, nor I do not receive any monetary compensation from the publication of this narrative. You can stop reading this now and have a nice day :~)

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CHAPTER 5: A KISS OF MADNESS

An icy December breeze cut through the area, kicking up dust and playing with empty cans and plastic bottles. Somewhere a plastic bag crinkled in the breeze and the remains of a local paper traveled through the air and smacked into the broken windshield of a 1980 Nissan Stanza. The skeletal remains and twisted corpses of many cars filled the area, some stacked two or three high. Paint jobs faded my many years exposure to the harsh Vegas summers. Windows and mirrors shattered from either their misfortunate pasts or vandals littered the earthen ground and would crunch under foot. This was a place cars came to be forgotten about and plundered. A graveyard for unwanted, unusable vehicles and in the back of this lonely littered area laid a machine nicknames “Killer” by staff members. This machines whole purpose was the destruction of vehicles for the crime of growing old and wearing out.

Amidst the rubble of forgotten and broken cars stood a couple, their attention fixed on Killer. Their crisp hems and carefully tailored suits a sharp contrast to their surroundings. Her jet black hair pulled back into her signature tight braid, so secure that not a single strand of hair dared move from its assigned location. Her Italian features and dark eyes gently accented by professionally applied make-up. Tonight she black slacks with a dark, charcoal gray pinstripe, a black blazer with dark charcoal silk top. Her steel toes boots, which had somehow been polished until they passed for dress shoes, crunched gravel and glass beneath their thick rubber sole as she walked towards the massive machine.

Her partner wore plain black slacks, and a cream colored silk turtleneck which had the manufacturer’s logo embroidered in a matching cream color on the left side of the throat. Unlike her, he was more susceptible to the cold, and protected himself against it with the addition of a long, heavy wool coat which to came to mid-calf, and a simple, unadorned black scarf. He glanced at the woman with expressionless eyes, she so resembled her father.

He did not want to be here. He did not want to a part of the horror about to be play out; however, he was not allowed the luxury of denying his master. Years of services under her father taught him that “no” is the most painful word he could use. Yet here he stood, stoic and obedient; his personal feelings buried so deep as to be irretrievable…the perfect ghoul. His dark Italian eyes watched as the large machine grumbled to life, moving slowly and steadily to consume the silver and black Cadillac presented to it as if it were an offering.

Her screams were frantic beyond words as she kicked and pounded on the hood of the trunk. She screeched and wailed to God or anyone to save her as walls of the trunk closed in about her. The machine sounds grew deafening, but only barely masked her hysterical high pitched wails.

Stephan stood beside Isabella, watching the car compactor slowly flatten the old Cadillac, as the screams of the woman locked in the trunk became incoherent. Stephan averted eyes slightly and did some thing he almost never did anymore. He prayed. He silently prayed for the woman’s soul and then he prayed for his own. From the corner of his eye he could see his Regnant as she stared at the machine as though it were her favorite part of a movie. Another breeze pushed by them, causing a few strands of Stephan’s thick, straight hair which was thankfully long enough that he could pull into a ponytail to keep it out of his face. The faded and dying lights of the graveyard were scattered illuminating everything in a dull yellowish light which made his olive complexion a sickly greenish color.

The car compactor roared, and growled as powerful hydraulics pressed down upon the car and the hapless victim within. The metal frame of the car buckled as glass exploded, metal groaned a low agonizing sound as the interior of the car proved no match for the power machine. The screaming became wild, desperate and inhuman; Isabella was completely transfixed by the violence that she had orchestrated. Then suddenly the painful terror filled screaming stopped and Isabella’s interest in the compactor ended. With satisfied little sigh she picked up a bundle of neatly folded clothes and a small expensive woman’s handbag lying on the ground beside her and handed them to Stephan.

“Dispose of those.” She ordered. She then handed him a set of car keys, which he took with his free hand. “And make certain Mr. Corbin finds his car tomorrow morning.”

“Of course.” Stephan responded, putting the key in his pocket. He was not looking forward to bringing Mr. Corbin to his wife and his Cadillac, but as always Stephan would complete the task with the utmost efficiency.

Isabella draped her arm about Stephan’s shoulder and began leading him towards the exit, passing a second compactor. “Have you learned anything new about my little lunatic?” Isabella asked.

“Regrettably no; she does not speak about herself. I have tried to steer conversation in that direction; however, she manages to twist things so that we are speaking about someone or something else.”

“Stephan, you have been observing her for two months.” Isabella began; her tone indicated that she was not completely satisfied with his work to date, implying that he had in a sense wasted two month of her time. “And you still have not found out her real name. Stephan I need that information and I trust you to obtain it.” She sighed and removed her arm from Stephan’s shoulder.

“Father would boast that you were the best to send for information retrieval, why have you failed in this?” she asked.

“I fear I may have underestimated her.” Stephan explained, prepared to explain his stand when he was cut short by Isabella’s echoing laughter.

“Underestimated her?” she repeated, as her laughter died down. “Stephan, she’s a kook. I’ve seen her, met her even talked with her, she doesn’t have much upstairs. Have you tried bribing her with something shiny?” Isabella said, only half in jest.

“I believe there is more to her then this façade she’s been presenting.”

“She is a Malkavian.”

“True, but crazy does not always mean stupid.”

“This conversation is over. Find another means of obtaining the information.” She was beginning to get frustrated. Why could he not understand that you could not underestimate a Malkavian, they are all hopelessly insane. Babbling idiot barely aware of their own surroundings, how difficult could it be to learn the girl’s name, and generation? “Learn her name by the end of the week.” She ordered.

“With all due respect, ma’am, it is possible that her name is lost to her madness.” Stephan pointed out, hoping not to upset her any further. She, like her father, had an affinity for violence; however, Isabella’s taste for violence was more difficult to sate than her father’s.

“Try.” Isabella said in a dangerous tone, waiting patiently for Stephan to open the car door.

“Don’t disappoint me, Stephan. You have until the end of the week.” She reminded, gracefully sliding into the back seat.

“I understand.” Stephan said, closing the door.

He placed the pile of personal affects in the trunk before climbing into the driver’s seat. Of all her ghouls, Stephan was the only one who was allowed to drive the sleek black1967 Mustang Shelby GT-500 with its matte black ghost flames, her prized vehicle. There was no conversation between them as they returned home; she spent much of the time on her cell phone confirming contracts. She had found a way to turn her hunger for violence into a profitable business…as a well paid assassin.

“Stephan, are you fucking the Malk?” she suddenly asked after a moment of silence.

“No, I am not.” He answered.

“Why not?”

“I was under the impression that you wish me to take a more passive stance in seduction. Also, she has not expressed that type of interest.” Was she disappointed that he was not actively seducing the Malkavian. Had he misinterpreted his master’s instructions?

“She’s a stripper. How is it the two of you haven’t fucked yet?” Isabella asked, believing the stereotype of strippers as promiscuous women.

“It is a possibility that her sexual desire may have died with her flesh.” He explained, hoping his Regnant would not order him to seduce the Malkavian. If ordered he would comply, but there was something…unnerving about the idea of fornicating with a lunatic when you are not certain of their madness.

“Then what is it you two all those free nights I have given you?” She asked, to Stephan it sounded as if he had been wasting her time by requesting free time and not returning with the information she sought.

“She has a fondness for cinema…movies.”

“So you two watch movies? All night?”

“There is talking, but the conversations have not proved fruitful.” Stephan answered, shifting up to fourth gear as they merged with traffic on the freeway.

“Do you know what her insanity is?”

“Regrettably, I do not. She is rather elusive when speaking about herself.” Stephan had learned early his to rephrase his findings in such a manner as not to repeat himself word for word.

“Find out, and I don’t care how.”

“Do you wish me to seduce her?” he asked, he hoped her answer would be no, but he would not be performing his duties to best of his ability if he did not ask.

“Only if you deem it necessary. I remember the last time you were sent to seduce a woman.” Her tone hinted that a sexual relation with the Malkavian was not what she desires. Stephan nodded, thinking momentarily about the bank owner’s wife he had been ordered to seduce for blackmail purposes. Quickly he pushed that memory back, now was not the time to dwell upon failures.

She didn’t see her ghouls as property as her father did. She never felt it was her right to use their bodies to her own ends. Isabella regarded them as employees, and tried to treat them as such; however, many of her mannerism were picked up from her father who was not known for his kind and forgiving demeanor. Most her ghouls seemed to understand her feelings; however, those she had acquired from her father still regarded her as their master, not employer.

“Just as a reminder, Isabella, you have a meeting with Lady Pelletier this evening at 10 o’clock.” Stephan prompted.

“I remember.” Isabella growled. The Ventrue had had a large feast, in which Isabella had fed from the inebriated too often that night and offended a few visiting Princes. Everything would have been all right, had she been allowed to bring one her ghouls, namely Stephan, to help keep her in line.

“There is to be a gathering tonight hosted by the Toreador. I want you there even if I cannot attend. Find out all you can regarding the Brujah. Specifically Chris White, he seems a little too interested in praxis for my taste.” Isabella said as they pulled into the large garage of her home. A timid looking David stood by the door waiting for her return, his job was making certain she was presentable for her meeting with the clan Primogen. Isabella was often annoyed by David; she had never been a “girly” girl. She was always one of the guys; she had little patients for make up and almost no patients for fashion. David was her father’s idea, and now she was stuck with him.

“The Malkavian has requested I take her to this gathering.” Stephan informed.

“Then it sounds as if you have a date.” She said, studying him closely for any sign of emotion.

“This is an assignment, not a date.”

“If you say so.” She said with a smug smile on her face indicating that nothing said was going to change her mind. “Go get the Malk.” She said with an annoyed sigh. Her annoyance was with the primping and the apology she was going to have to make, and her inability to read her ghouls body language. It was as if Stephan had no feeling, he never reacted to anything, no matter what the circumstances or orders she gave him.

“Yes, ma’am.” Stephan said, handing over her keys after retrieving the woman’s items from the trunk.

--------------------~*~--------------------

Stephan properly disposed of the victim’s personal belongings on his way to retrieve the Malkavian from a bus stop she had earlier indicated. She waved cheerfully as his car pulled into a nearby parking lot. Tonight she wore Mary Jane platform shoes with little white ruffled socks over torn fishnet stockings. Her pink, lavender and purple plaid skirt fell to mid-thigh, a conservative length judging from the other outfits he had seen her in. A simple pink ‘baby doll’ shirt covered her bright lemon yellow fishnet top and read “Til dawn to us part.” The humor was not lost on him. Her black cherry colored hair pulled into twin pigtails, had been braided and wrapped into small buns on either side of her head. Her make-up was applied heavily in the ‘goth’ fashion. She was a sharp contract to his conservative black slacks, and cream turtle neck.

She watched him approach, something about the way the universe sang about him, which told her something had happened. Little fairies of guilt with silky streamers of apprehension danced in the tightly controlled shimmering nebula that sparkled about him. Whispers of secrets and desires flew through her like a ghost.

“Hi Stephan, how’s your night going?” she cheerfully asked, as he climbed from his car to open the passenger door for her. A tightness hiding in the corners of his eyes told a tale of a reluctant witness. Something had happened this evening which, inwardly, affected him greatly, but outwardly revealed nothing…it was just another night. She smiled, chaotic thoughts tip-toeing through the amusement park of her mind.

He paused, thinking how best to answer her question. It was not a trick question; however, he could hardly admit to being witness to murder involving a car compactor.

“Pressing, but things seem to be improving.” He answered, watching her lithe figure slip into the passenger’s seat. Climbing back into the driver seat, listening to her rattle on about the politics at her job, he felt an oddly at peace. It was as if the monsters of the night did not exist, no vampires, no werewolves, no wraiths…nothing, just humans. That was it, he felt human in her presence. He was not a servant under orders to escort a vampire ‘master’ about. He felt like a human man in the company of an amazing human woman. He was lost in thought that he did not realize that she was talking to him until she had called his name in that soft sing-song tone.

“My apologies, I was not listening. Please forgive me. What were you saying?” he asked, unable to believe that he had become so absorbed in his own thoughts that he had ignored his guest.

“Nothing, I just wanted your attention.”

Was she serious? Had she been silent since entering the car? He couldn’t recall a fact that bothered him. Being this oblivious was not in his nature. He had been trained to be observant, and mindful of his surroundings. Why had he lowered his guard around her, around a Malkavian? Such an error could result in death, if he were lucky.

“Is everything ok, you seem out of it?” she asked.

“Out of it?” he asked, unfamiliar with the slang.

“You’re mind is not in the here and now, where did you go?” She asked.

“Merely dwelling on an assignment I received from my Regnant. Again, I ask your forgiveness.”

“Want to talk about it?” she casually asked.

“With all due respect, I cannot speak about it.” He answered.

“Suit yourself. You have a very formal way of speaking.” She said her voice light and bubbly as she watched the muted reflection of the streetlight pass by as he pulled into a darkened parking lot. She too had an assignment she could not talk about.

“My former Regnant instilled certain characteristics into his ghouls. I suppose that would be the reason for my speech pattern.”

“I’ve also noticed that you don’t use contractions. Do you have a personal vendetta against them or are you paid by the word?”

“I am sorry, but I do not understand the question.”

Lolli laughed a bright and glorious laughter as if he had delivered the punch line to the world’s greatest joke. He looked at her, unsure if he should be concerned and wondering what he had said that tickled her so.

“You’re so funny.” She said as her laughter died down to cute little giggles.

“We are here.” He said making a move to exit the vehicle, until Lolli quickly grabbed his arm.

“Before we go, there’s something I want to tell you.” She said, unfastening her seatbelt and moving to straddle his lap.

“Is this going to be a habit?” he asked, remembering that last time she did this she ordered him to drive until he was finally pulled over by a police officer. Lolli had obfuscated, leaving a rather shocked Stephan to explain to a bewildered policeman that there was no one else in the car despite what the officer had seen. Lolli thought it was a riot, Stephan was less than amused.

“Umm…maybe.” She answered, rolling her eyes in mock thought. “Wanna go driving for cops?” she asked.

“No.” he answered flatly. “What did you want to tell me?” He asked.

She seemed uncomfortable as she searched for word “Well, I…we…umm that is….Oh to Hell with it.” She sighed, moving suddenly, placing her lips to his. To say Stephan was startled would be too mild, his surprised voice muffled by her mouth as she cupped his face. Uncertain of what to do with his hands he gripped the steering wheel tightly, as if his life depended upon that steering wheel. Despite his surprise, he was astounded that her lips were warm, not as warm as a human’s lips, but defiantly warm. His Regnant was not going to like this, something he voiced once their lips parted.

“She doesn’t have to know.” Lolli said a desperate, doubting look in her eyes. Had she moved too fast? Was he going to reject her? Belittle her for her actions? She could not help the way she felt. They spent so much time together and never once did he treat her like the ‘poor, stupid crazy girl.’

“That is true. I only need to report who I spoke with, when, and what was said, but not done.” He heard himself say. Was he really going to keep this from his Regnant? Could he keep this from his Regnant? What was happening to him that he would even contemplate such…such betrayal? He knew Vincent’s punishment for such transgressions, but what would Isabella do? She had never raised a hand to any of her ghouls, but still she was a Bruno. Despite the mental and emotional war he was waging with himself, neither his face nor body language betrayed the whirlwind within him.

“I like you.” She said, visibly relaxing. “You keep me safe….And not in the way you are thinking.” She said, resting her forearms on his shoulders.

“What way was I thinking?” he asked, maintaining his death grip on the steering wheel, not certain if he should encourage her. His Regnant specifically instructed him to not seduce her, unless he deemed it necessary. Then again she is always stressing for him to keep her happy. He theorized that Isabella was indicating that he should not initiate a physical relationship, but instead allow the Malk to use his body for said physical pleasures if she desired.

“You don’t keep me safe from other people; you keep other people safe from me. I…I don’t want you to get into trouble for my actions, so I have been expressing a great deal of self-control over my pranks.”

“A Malkavian with self-control? That is unusual.”

“Yeah.” She said, again in that sin-song voice, her eyes rolling playfully. “So how are things with Reggie?” she asked, becoming more comfortable with her closeness to him.

“I fear I may need to find a new Regnant soon.” Stephan confessed. He was on the verge of breaking Vincent Bruno’s first rule about family business.

“Why?”

“There was a dinner party; my Regnant was somewhat inebriated off of someone she fed from. Apparently she insulted two…no three Princes.” He answered, realizing that he had crossed a threshold from which there was no returning.

“Oops. What clan?”

“Hers.”

“Oopsy. Do you have anyone in mind for a new Regnant?” She asked her eyes and face void of the eagerness she was feeling. She wanted Stephan; she wanted it more than anything else. But to get him and keep him she would have to carefully manipulate him into thinking it was his idea.

“No, not yet.” He answered, although he did have some potential Regnants in mind.

“Are you going to remain Ventrue?” she asked, leaning back until she rested against the steering wheel, careful not to lean on the horn.

“I would like that.” He confessed, moving his hands from steering wheel, uncertain if it was appropriate to rest his hands on her.

“Yeah, me too.” She answered, silently amused by his confusion on where to place his hands now that she was leaning again the steering wheel.

“Why?” he asked, deciding to rest his left hand on the driver’s door and the right hand on the emergency brake.

“I like you the way you are. I don’t think you’d be a fun Malkavian.” She answered, casually scratching her left thigh, raising her short skirt up by two inches.

“Really?” being the constant gentleman he maintained eye contact, refusing the glace at the extra creamy white skin she was deliberately flirting with.

“Yep, I see you as obsessive compulsive, and possibly even power hungry.” She answered as if she were recommending he should wear a blue tie with his slate grey shirt.

“The desire to be in control of oneself does not mean I would be power hungry.” He argued.

“Things change when your mind shatters. Being in control could mean power hungry. Why just have control over oneself when you can facilitate that desire by controlling your environment and those you allow in your environment.”

“Hmmm, possibly.” He acknowledged, how was it that she could seem so…so ignorant, so innocent yet have this frightening insight. Did all Malkavian’s have this insight? If yes, then why had no one ever noticed it before? Surely someone in the history of the Kindred actually listened to a Malkavian.

“My Regnant asked if I had made a decision about my existence.”

“And?” she pressed.

“I told her no, at which point she then informed me that I need to make a decision soon. I think she wants to embrace me.” Why was he confiding in her? What strange attraction did he feel towards her that made him feel comfortable sharing such intimate details with her?

“It’s not necessarily more fun on this side. You know what I miss the most? Food. I really miss food.” She said, almost pouting. It was…adorable.

“Like steak dinners?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

“He now, don’t go there. That’s scary.” She said, looking as serious as a two year old trying to figure out why the round peg does not fit in the square hole. He could not help himself, he chuckled, almost laughing.

“Uh-oh you’re starting to have fun.” She gasped, mentally noting that this was the first time since she had met him that he was showing any type of emotional reaction to outside stimuli. This was a good sign. “Just for the record, I’m not asking for your loyalty. I want you loyalty to remain with Reggie first. If she tells you to kill me, I expect you to at least try. However, I will defend myself.” She said, planting the seed in his mind that she is with him because she enjoys his company, not because she wants to steal him away.

“That is understandable.” He said, finding her last statement somewhat odd.

“Umm…if…if I show you something will you promise not to destroy me?” she asked, again the impish look of innocence mixed with uncertainty.

“Yes, I promise.”

“I want…I want to show you my haven.”

“That is a lot of trust, but I guess it seems fair, you know where I live. And you are only one of two people to know that.” He said, hinting that his Regnant was the other person. She giggled that tiny little giggle many had found cute over the past couple of months.

“Shall we join the others?” she asked, remembering that regardless oh he felt in her presence, he was still a ghoul with a job to do.

“One more kiss first?” she asked, again that look of doubt and uncertainty. He could stop this all now. He could say no, and not encourage her interest in him. This was a rare and blessed second chance. Does he allow this relationship to evolve, or does he halt it here? If his involvement with the Malkavian progresses, he may not be able to complete his orders where she is concerned, especially knowing that his Regnant ‘has plans’ for Lolli that could result in the Malkavian’s death. Isabella would not approve of an actual relationship between himself and Lollipop, that she had made clear earlier in the evening. The Ventrue clan would not approve. Such disproval could result in severe punishment of both himself and his Regnant. He could stop this now, one small; two-letter word could prevent any further damage. It was not too late to turn back.

Stephan cupped Lollipop’s face sealing his fate with kiss.

--------------------~*~--------------------

Hidden from view, someone watched the ghoul and his Malkavian ward emerge from the vehicle. Hidden deep in the shadows and a ragged cloak someone watched with a disapproving scowl. What a blasphemous waste of the Dark Father’s blessing. The observer growled angrily to itself, it was a great act of will that prevented it from leaping out and tearing the couple apart. The sheer fury it felt watching the couple escaped in a hot, loathing stare and fine trembling. It crouched in its hiding place, wrapping arms tightly about itself, as if to prevent it from attacking.

“Soon.” It promised in a low growl. Vampires had been disappearing in Vegas for years, and no one paid any attention. Vegas is such a transient city for both Kindred and Kine alike, but the recent Kindred murders were drawing the attention of the Kindred population. The Nosferatu, secretive bastards that they are, kept their plight confidential. Refusals to admit to others that something was hunting them in their own domain prompted more violate attacks, and a massive increase in missing Kindred. The attacks had to be known, the ‘masters’ had to know that they are not the top of the food chain. They had to realize that there are things to fear in the night. The boogeyman of their childhoods was real, and was waiting to unravel their carefully constructed web of lies.

A dark, sinister smile spread across its lips at the thoughts eliminating all those unworthy of immortality from the carefully woven fabric of the world of darkness. “Soon.” It promised again, its voice dark and evil, thick with hate and hunger.

--------------------~*~--------------------

Isabella sat silently in the large elaborate study as Lady Pelletier ranted and raved, scolding her like a child for her actions at the Ventrue feast. She went on to verbally belittle Isabella for the image she had presented of not only herself but of the Las Vegas Ventrue Clan to visiting Princes. Isabella held her tongue, self-preservation advising her to not disagree with her Primogen. Once Lady Pelletier had finished, Isabella knelt before her superior and presented the formal apology Stephan had helped her memorize. Pelletier, sighed heavily, she wanted little more than to destroy this creature kneeling before her, but the scheming portion of her recognized that Isabella is a perfect scapegoat.

“Isabella, you must be more careful in the future. We are all ready under scrutiny for that tragic incident ten years ago.” Her words had softened, trying to relay sympathy for the reputation Isabella had been branded; however, her creamy dark eyes remained cold and hard.

“I understand. It will not happen again.” Isabella promised, remaining on her knees, as Stephan and John had suggested.

“See that it does not.” She warned, gesturing for Isabella to rise. “Now there is one more thing I need to discuss with you.” She said, gracefully sitting down in the large leather chair as she pushed a strand of her wavy milk chocolate brown hair behind her ear. Lady Pelletier’s hair was loose, a rare occurrences. Loose waves fell freely, dancing just past her shoulders, her high sharp cheek bones, pointed chin and thin lips lent more to an elfish look. “Stephan’s… involvement with the Malkavian.”

“What of it?” Isabella asked, trying to keep her tone neutral and not defensive, but not succeeding entirely. Lady Pelletier gave her a disapproving glare. Isabella wisely chooses to remain standing as she had not been invited to sit down.

“Explain his actions?” Pelletier coolly ordered.

“He is under orders from me.”

“Go on.”

“I am using him to obtain information from her for me…I mean us.”

“And what, pray tell, has your pet learned from her?”

“The night we journeyed in the tunnels, she followed and saw the creature’s aura. It was through her we learned a diablerist is hunting the Nosferatu.”

“One piece of valuable information does not validate his relationship with her.”

“I feel she can be of further use.”

“How?”

“…I’m not sure yet, that is why I sent Stephan to her. If we can’t use her to track down the diablerist, then perhaps we can use her to lure it out.”

“Lure it out? Explain why this…this monster would be so interested in one Malkavian?”

“No one, other than you and I, know it was her who revealed the creatures diablerist nature. Should such information along with a few other creative notions be leaked, say to the Nosferatu…” Isabella let her words trail off.

“I can see where you are going with this, but I cannot and will not condone his involvement with the Malkavian. People are beginning to talk. It reflects poorly upon us, and our image is tarnished as is. I strongly recommend you rescind your orders.”

“Through Stephan we can use her to gain information on the Malkavian Primogen that could be beneficial to you during Primogen meetings.” Isabella proposed, carefully weaving her words. Pelletier seemed to consider the advantage Isabella was suggesting, but no matter how carefully constructed Isabella’s words were Pelletier knew there was a self-serving reason behind it all.

“You have until the next Primogen Meeting. If you have not provided me with the promised information, he will be punished for his transgression and will share his fate for allowing such a situation to exist. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal clear.” Isabella acknowledged with a slight bow of her head. She had just bought herself a month.

--------------------~*~--------------------

Lolli sat on one of the couches and rolled her head back to count the shadows created by the popcorn textured ceiling. These event were SO BORING, she wasn’t entirely sure why she attended. Stephan was speaking silently with one of the Brujah, subtly pressing him for information on Chris White and Trent Black. Regrettably the young Brujah knew nothing of value.

“Stephan.” Lolli called, suspecting he needed saving from a fruitless conversation. Stephan politely excused himself to attend to the needs of his ward.

“You called?” He asked, standing before her as he would his Regnant.

“Come, sit.” She said cheerfully, patting the empty cushion next to her. Stephan did as his was instructed without question.

“What are you trying to do?” she asked quietly.

“I am trying to gather information about Chris White and Trent Black.” He explained.

“Is it not going well?”

“I am merely a ghoul and Kindred often look down upon me and treat me with little regard.”

“Let me try.” She said cheerfully an all too eager expression on her face. “Point someone out.” She added a huge grin on her face. Not seeing the harm in allowing her to talk to people he gestured towards a young Brujah coming down the hallway known only as Mason. Lolli giggled like a child who found out she was going to Disneyland, she grabbed Stephan’s wrist and dragged him towards the appointed target.

Lolli leaned casually against the wall at the end of the hallway. Coyly she greeted the approaching Brujah, who acknowledged her, but made no sign of stopping. Without hesitation she rested her foot on the opposite wall, trapping the Brujah behind her long, pale leg.

“What’s you name?” she asked, her voice innocent and friendly.

“Mason. And you are?” He asked, annoyed by her impeding his path.

“Why bother with names? This won't be more than a one night stand.” She batted her eyes as she quoted the Bloodrayne video game. Mason eyed her, not sure what to make of her attention.

“I need to get going.” He said, trying to push past her; however, her leg remained firmly in place.

“Why?” she asked.

“Trent is expecting me.”

“Really? Tell me about him.”

“About Trent?”

“Yeah, I’ve only been in town for a couple of months and I’m looking for friends.”

“Look, I don’t have time for this!” he shouted, he’d heard about a new Malkavian in town and had been doing his best to avoid her. He had personally never met a Malkavian, their population was relatively small in Vegas, but he had heard rumors about the Clan’s insanity and rumors of their fondness for pranks. The last thing he wanted was to be the focus of a Malkavian prank.

“How fine you look when dressed in rage. Your enemies are fortunate that your condition is not permanent. And you're lucky too: Red eyes suit so few.” Another quote, this one from American McGee’s Alice, it seemed fitting and caught Mason off guard who took the words as a compliment.

“You can talk to me, I promise not to tell anyone.” She pressed

“There’s not much to tell, he’s pretty powerful, I wouldn’t want to be on his shit list.”

“He sounds intimidating.”

“I guess, but Chris trusts him. I mean, he’s sending Trent out on a mission.”

“Chris White?” she asked excitedly.

“Yea, he’s going to be Primogen.”

“What mission?” Stephan asked, amazed at the information pouring from the Brujah. Mason ignored Stephan, as he usually did; however, when Lolli repeated the question he seemed willing to answer.

“I dunno something about Jon.”

“The sheriff?” Stephan asked, once again his question was ignored until the Malkavian repeated it verbatim. The conversation continued, for nearly 10 minutes, with Stephan feeding questions to the Malkavian, and Mason answering. Stephan was astounded at the results, given time Mason would probably have revealed his haven.

“I really need to get going.” Mason said. Lolli thanked him for his time and lowered her leg, allowing him to pass.

“How did you do that? I was not hiding, nor was I subtle in supplying you with questions and yet he ignored me and answered you.”

Lolli shrugged, “I don’t know…I just…just wanted him to tell the truth and he did.”

“Just like that? You just wished him to answer truthfully?”

With her hands behind her she began rocking on the balls of her feet as she bit her bottom lip and nodded.

“Did you use a Discipline on him?” he pressed. Still chewing her bottom lip she shook her head, her eyes wide like a child in trouble.

“If I may be so forward, what generation are you?” he asked, calculating that the direct approach would serve him better than the indirect measures he had been employing. She stopped rocking and rolled her eyes in thought.

“Tenth, I think.”

“You’re not sure?” he asked, his shock was not evident in his words. Most Kindred knew their generation; it was a point of pride and prestige.

“My sire has told me, but I forget. Does it really matter?”

“I might explain Mason’s willingness to speak with you, and how he had overlooked my prompting your questions.”

“If you say so.” She said with a shrug. “It could also be that he has a fondness for women and does not regard ghouls as worthy of his attention.” She countered. Stephan nodded, keeping his opinion regarding the Kindred views of ghouls to himself.

“Do you play chess?” she asked suddenly.

“Yes, my former Regnant encouraged such activities.” Stephan answered.

“Goodie, let’s go back to my place and play.”

“Regrettably, I do not have the luxury of such time.”

“Ok, I’ll make it interesting, every time you take a piece I will honestly answer any question you ask; however, if I take a piece you must honestly answer my questions. Deal?” She proposed, extending her hand. Stephan eyed her suspiciously, his intuition telling that this was a setup; however, this could also provide him with the valuable information his Regnant was requesting. He was left with little choice.

“Agreed.” Stephan said, taking her hand as if he were making a deal with the Devil.