Attie Harrington

*I've come too far to watch some namedropping sleaze*

*Tell me what are my words worth*

*Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die*

*I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you*

- Taylor Swift | The Lakes

## Description

### Physical Description

No face claim would come close to portraying the haunting and grotesque features of Clan Nosferatu. Imagine, if you will, that the artist of the portrait at the top of this page has been very, very kind.

Attie stands 5'4" with her skin, pale as death, clinging tightly to her skull, utterly devoid of color or life. Sharp, uneven teeth protrude from her lips, and her sunken eyes gleam a deep emerald glow, retaining just a trace of her former beauty amid the deformities.

What remains of Attie's hair is coarse and patchy, with a few strands of white clinging to her skull like a macabre crown.

Her limbs are elongated and her hands are almost claw-like. Her back is permanently hunched, giving her an awkward and unsettling gait.

Attie favors practical, dark, concealing attire that enables her to move stealthily, blending into the night and obscuring her disfigurements, such as her scaly left leg.

Despite her nightmarish exterior, Attie carries herself with a sense of dignity and purpose.

### Psychological Profile

Attie possesses a deep, nearly insatiable curiosity - particularly in the realms of history and the occult. She has earned a reputation as a thorough researcher.

In both her mortal life and since her Embrace, Attie has adapted to changing circumstances and endured hardships, all while refusing to yield to adversity.

Attie has a strong sense of duty, taking her role as a guardian of the Nosferatu clan and protector of the Masquerade seriously. Her commitment to these responsibilities is unwavering, with the most fanatical aspects tempered by a strong sense of fairness and justice.

## History [SPOILERS]

### Pre-Embrace

Athena “Attie” Harrington was born on September 9, 1879, to Charles and Frances Harrington of Boston, Massachusetts. Along with her older brother John, they lived a modest yet comfortable life: Charles worked as a skilled carpenter, and Frances was a dedicated homemaker. The Harrington household was filled with warmth, laughter, and an appreciation for education. Frances encouraged her children's love for reading and learning, and Charles often shared tales of his own family's military history. Together, Charles and Frances instilled in John and Attie (and eventually her younger sister Tiffany) a sense of civic duty.

Attie spent hours exploring the libraries of Boston, voraciously reading books on a wide range of subjects, from history to the occult. She also had a deep connection with nature, finding calm and inspiration in parks and cemeteries, in which she would often wander and observe the changing seasons and the passage of time.

As she grew, Attie was just a little bit bigger than the other girls her age, and maybe just a little stronger too. They definitely talked about her behind her back, which Attie knew about but didn’t care. The very fact they couldn’t say anything directly to her showed their opinion didn’t matter.

In a different time, Attie may have become an engineer, but such a path was not available in the late 1800s.

And then the Maine exploded in Havana, Cuba and America went to war with Spain.

Telling her family she intended to join the U.S. Army Nurse Corps, Attie instead took the name "Andy" and presented at the local recruitment office - passing the physical examination and avoiding undue scrutiny by keeping a low profile as much as possible.

Attie/Andy proved a brave and resourceful soldier; however, the horrors of the battlefield left an indelible mark: in the night following a particularly intense skirmish, Attie’s fate was sealed.

In the chaos and darkness, Attie encountered the Embrace of a Nosferatu. Attie could never be certain why it happened. Perhaps they saw the potential to sow chaos into the American ranks. Perhaps they perceived more than skin deep and thought anyone who had gone to the lengths Attie had would be beneficial to their ranks. Either way, the result was the same, and Attie’s body now bears the disfigurements of Clan Nosferatu.

### Post-Embrace

It took some time, but Attie eventually made her way back to Boston, where she used her newfound Nosferatu connections to alter some records so that her family received an “official” government notice of her death from . . . heat due to improper clothing, or was it food poisoning, or was it something else? Either way, the body couldn’t be transported and so . . . The US might’ve “won” the war but the incompetence coming to light was astounding.

This was also how Attie received a firsthand education in the Nosferatu’s concept of favors and the value of knowledge . . .

Even then, Charles and Frances provided for Attie, albeit unknowingly. Purchasing plots for themselves and Attie, they ordered a zinc headstone from the Monumental Bronze Company of Bridgeport, CT. It had removable side panels for future engraving, and in the 1930s - taking a page from the bootlegger’s handbook - Attie was able to retrofit it with a secret, cooled compartment capable of storing an emergency blood supply. In fact, there are unsubstantiated rumors she has more than once cache around the city, capable of being stocked relatively quickly thanks to one of her retainers . . .

But we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves

In regards to Attie’s family, sadly Charles and Frances and John all passed away before 1920: Charles from an industrial accident, John as a result of Germany’s actions leading up to America’s entrance into WWI, and Frances from the Great Influenza. Tiffany, though, married Thomas Sinclair rather later in life. Had she been a little younger she would have been a flapper, but such as it was Thomas was also progressive, and Tiffany became Tiffany Harrington-Sinclair. Legally, Thomas may have had more rights and privileges than Tiffany, but whatever she wanted to do, he agreed with utmost enthusiasm. They loved every minute of their life together. From their union came one child – a boy named Charles John (who eventually went by C.J. Harrington-Sinclair because he felt it gave him an air of gravitas) and as a result Attie has several distant cousins living in the present, some of whom live in the Boston area.

There was something about war that called to Attie, and so in 1914, and again in 1938, and yet again in 1950 and most recently in the early 70s paperwork for one Andy Harrington found its way into the Army’s folders. Mortal wars might be of little interest to most Kindred, but to a certain kind of mind . . .

Someone has to be on Night Watch, after all, and the fighting forces could use a little extra help for a few weeks – at least until Andy would be killed or missing in action (but never AWOL) and another “green” recruit would be gone too soon and Attie would return home with a few stories, perhaps some new connections, and a uniform - and depending on circumstances, a small bereavement  pension funneled through a retainer.

Her current nest is located near the T that runs under one of Boston’s cemeteries. A paradox of sorts, considering that one of the best places to feed may also be one of the most likely to cause a masquerade breach. But on the other hand, an additional Rough Sleeper might not be that noticeable in those dimly lit hours and . . . and even if she were noticed, a uniform might cause them pause. Who wants to turn in a veteran for vagrancy, after all? And if they happened to notice her disfigurement, well . . .

*“This is what happens when boiler blows but you don’t.”*

*“Gas. You ever read Wilson Owen? Yeah, he understood, the poor bastard.”*

*“Mortar hit a tree near our foxhole and splintered my face. I’d say you should see my buddy, but he didn’t make it.”*

*“Napalm’s a bitch, I tell you what.”*

Of course, the need to feed also took care of unwanted attention . . .

### Modern Nights: 1984

At present, Attie's presence in Boston is a blend of guardian, historian, and enforcer: she has become an effective agent, serving as one of many guardians of the city's secrets and ensuring that the Masquerade is upheld, and her sense of duty and knowledge of the occult makes her a trusted resource in matters of supernatural law.

## The Witching Hour

### Session One

Attie Harrington woke up around 6:00 PM on Saturday, October 27, 1984, and groaned.

“Ugh. It’s court today, isn’t it?”

And indeed it was. Halloween was just a few days away - a Wednesday this year, which most people, both mortal and preternatural, considered the worst. timing. ever. It was the middle of the week, for crying out loud, and therefore much too early in the week to celebrate properly. Folks would need to work the next day, after all. And so, many had determined to make the most of this weekend to party.

It was also the night Prince August Howl would hold court. It technically should have been held earlier, but there had been an attack from the Sabbat and the focus of the 150-200 Camarilla (or Camarilla-adjacent) Kindred in Boston had been decidedly elsewhere.

Boston was thriving in the Modern Nights, and many attributed it to the Prince working very, very hard to maintain the status quo with a few very simple, very serious rules:

Maintain the Masquerade - any breaches to the masquerade must be dealt with by the next sunrise - even if that sunrise was only moments away. Failure to clean up one’s mess within the allotted time would be met with a torpor equal to the offense.

Right of Progeny - permission must be granted to embrace an individual, along with a ghoul registry in case of accidental Turnings. Dying in a car accident with vitae in one’s system was decidedly different from expiring due to vigorous intercourse, for example.

Prince Howl held court once a month, and attendance was mandatory for all of Boston’s Kindred. Any absences would be carefully noted and were expected to be announced in advance.

The Laws of Elysium would be in effect tonight, granting safe passage to and from the Ames luxury hotel, Boston’s tollest building and the site of Prince Howl’s court.

Attie listened to the sounds of the T for a moment before she sighed again and rose from what passed for slumber. Tonight would be a masquerade, with masks mandatory. Attie thought for only a moment as she considered a small rack of Army uniforms, one for each conflict the United States had engaged in since the Spanish-American War. Each one was well-worn yet in good repair, and Attie selected a greatcoat from World War I. She rummaged a bit and pulled out a mustachioed mask similar to those designed by Derwent Wood and Anna Coleman - though not made specifically by them. Attie hadn’t had that kind of money.

Hooking the mask over her ears and putting up what remained of her long, white hair under her soldier’s cap, Attie considered herself sufficiently disguised and exited her small chamber and into the warren, where she was met by the clicking and clacking of a keyboard hooked up to a Commodore 64. The clan had pirated ARAPNET, finding its access to academic information invaluable.

In front of the keyboard and typing away was Stitch, Embraced about a year ago, Stitch was THE go-to in regards to the latest technology and - able to burn the candle at both ends - was often seen by everyone in the Clan sitting right here.

Stitch’s hyperfocus could be a problem tonight.

“You’re going to Court tonight, right?”

“Huh? I thought that got postponed.”

“It did. To today.”

“Oh. I don’t really want to go. I hate being seen.”

“Me too. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why they do it to us. But it’s not like we have a choice.”

“How will they know?”

“They take attendance, and with only a couple hundred Kindred in the city it won’t be difficult to see who’s missing.”

“You could make an excuse for me.”

“You’re asking me to lie to the Prince for you?!”

“Well, he likes you, doesn’t he?”

“Only insofar as I haven’t done anything to displease him or draw any undue attention.”

“Do you think he likes me?”

“I think it’s about the same for you.”

“Oh. Well, what about if you use Mask of a Thousand Faces, go in as yourself, leave, then come back in as me?”

“I don’t have Mask of a Thousand Faces, I have this mask - so it’s more like Mask of Two Faces. Maybe if I really try, I can bump that up to three.”

“Oh. Do you think you’ll have it by next month?”

“No promises, and I’m not saying I’ll use it to help you get out of court, but I can’t deny it would be helpful. We’ll see what happens. But next month doesn’t solve tonight.”

“How long do I have to stay?”

“Long enough to be seen and noticed by folks that matter. And if you go with me, I can vouch for you. I don’t rank high in Boston, but i am a little higher than you for now. That has to count for something.”

“Oh all right I’ll go. Let me grab a hoodie.”

“Want to go with me?”

“Yes!”

“Okay, I’ll wait. Remember it’s a masquerade - do you have a mask?”

“I was gonna pick one up at CVS on the way. I hear they’re having a five-finger discount.”

“Just so long as you have one.”

They made their way to the hotel without incident; Stitch successfully donned a pumpkin mask on the way. They entered Elysium and Attie turned over a knife and pistol - a Colt M1911 to go with the uniform, though in fairness it would have gone with several others on her rack.

They circled the room for a half hour or so and Attie made sure Stitch was seen by Louis D’Amore (Sheriff) and Eliza Thornwood (Keeper) before trying to find an empty corner in which to watch the evening’s proceedings. Corners were a favorite with Nosferatu, and even with Stitch and Attie leaving earlier than most Kindred, there was still one other who beat them there. They found another corner, where Stitch refused to leave Attie’s side.

They watched several others arrive.

Fennec, an Assamite somewhat new to the Boston scene, struck up a game of cards with Sheriff D’Amore.

Jennie, a Toreador, approached the Prince and held a rather awkward conversation. She made apologies for one higher in her clan who would not be in attendance, and seemed to lack a good reason. However, it was not the messenger’s fault, and Prince Howl made a great show of how he was not like other Princes and would not punish her for delivering unwelcome news. However, she would need to pass along that Clan Toreador would now owe a minor boon - it’s third in just one month’s time!

Sabrina, one of three Daughters of Cacophony in Boston, arrived and took her place as the evening’s musical entertainment. Even for one of a clan known for its musical talent, Sabrina was far above a beyond anything anyone there had anticipated.

Stitch took the close of the opening number as an opportunity to slip out.

Attie reminded Stitch to be careful. They might have the right of safe passage, but things still happened. They protected the Masquerade by protecting the clan, and protected the clan by protecting each other. Stitch promised to take underground routes as much as possible.

Watching Stitch leave, Attie noticed Sebastian Kane (Venture Primogen) looking somewhat flustered as he made his way through the crowd. He appeared to be whispering to people, each of whom shook their heads “no” - which in turn caused Primogen Kane to become even more flustered and less hopeful as the evening went on.

Attie held a somewhat different idea of knowledge and favors compared to some other Nosferatu. Attie was more than happy to earn favors from individuals. No need to be an asshole about it, Attie saw a fair bit of her methods reflected in the fictional account of Don Corleone as seen in the quite successful Godfather Part II.

And like the Godfather in his early years, Atite seemed to be well-liked compared to some other Kindred clans. At least, she wasn’t actively disliked . . .

She maneuvered her way across the room, in theory to go check out the card game that was still going on but in doing so taking a path that would go by Primogen Kane.

“My apologies for interrupting your evening, Primogen Kane. I couldn’t help but notice your discomfort, and wondered if I might be of some assistance?”

Primogen Kane looked at Attie warily. Even with Attie’s reputation, everyone knew Clan Nosferatu did not give help of any type for free. But the primogen’s distress outweighed his discomfort and, as Fennec came up alongside Attie, he explained that he could not contact his ghoul, Daniel Sterling.

Everyone knew Primogen Kane and Daniel were very close, and some said it was evidence Kindred were indeed capable of true love. Regardless of their collective reputation, Primogen Kane was very concerned. He had a difficult moonrise and had to dress himself. This was not a problem, though it had thrown his schedule off. He understood that things happen, but this was so unlike Daniel that he was now concerned for his safety.

“I would not seek to intrude on your own affairs,” Attie said “but with your permission I would look into the matter for you. This is a concerning matter, indeed.”

Primogen Kane agreed to let Attie and now Fennec investigate Daniel’s whereabouts. He suggested it may be wise to go in groups of four and pulled out a recent picture of Daniel, at which point Jennie joined the group and offered her service as well, perhaps as part of paying off one of the boons owed by Clan Tremere.

Primogen Kane made his way toward Prince Howl, who looked at his watch before assuring him all requests would be heard after his speech.

Prince Howl started with a round of applause for Sabrina and then launched into the meat of his statement. He officially recognized Creed Moro (Scourge) for acting decisively in the recent Sabbat incursion. Then he informed the gathered persons that a group of Changeling had opened a gate to the north. As their actions did not impede upon any current domains, they would each stay in their respective territory. Peace would be given a chance. Speaking of chances, there were no new Blood Hunts to declare - an announcement which Attie noticed brought a small relief to Jennie.

And then it was on to new business. A new club had opened in the downtown theater district called The Witching Hour, and while those under his rule were not banned from going there, he warned them to be cautious. There was something about it that was not sitting right.

His speech wound down and Primogen Kane began once more to approach when the large windows surrounding the room blew inwards from the outside.

Attie pressed herself against the wall, and so missed seeing Fennec deflecting huge glass shards away from Prince Howl at the exact same time Jennie tried to hit them away, with the combined effect being that, if one didn’t know better, it would seem that Jennie was physically hurling the shards back from whence they came.

At the stage, Sabrina grabbed her ghoul accompanist and danced them both through the rain of destruction with minimal damage.

Silence and shock filled the room as, overhead, the broken windows lay open to an inky-black navy blue and light-polluted void. And then a lone object came flying in, thrown through the window from outside.

Attie was already moving when it landed on the now-open dance floor with the sound of a ripe melon. Almost without thinking Attie shrugged off her greatcoat. It had seen blood before, and it wasn’t like Nosferatu lived in the cleanest environment. She recognized the hair from the photograph Primogen Kane had just showed her.

Behind her, Fennec was using her skills to keep Primogen Kane from seeing the head of his beloved. She cast some kind of silence around them that allowed him to scream, and as realization set in she turned his bloody tears into water. He would not lose face or favor tonight if she could help it.

Arriving at the spot where it landed, Attie scooped up the remains of Daniel Sterling. As she did so, she noticed something in his mouth that looked like paper. Wrapping things up, she palmed it out and into her own hand. She didn’t care if folks saw since it was her intent to take whatever it was directly to Prince Howl, but she didn’t want to draw undue attention to it, either.

Crossing the floor, Attie risked a look. It wasn’t paper; it was human skin. She stared down at a recent yet somewhat faded entry stamp for The Witching Hour.

### Session Two

#### *The Ames Building*

Silence had fallen in Elysium, but only for the time it took for the shock of the attack to register with the attendees. Then, chaos descended. Some rushed for the exits; swing them, Fennec called out “D’Amore - don’t let them leave!” “Eliza, lock it down!” the sheriff shouted. Eliza, in turn, got to work with her assistants, and Fennec seemed to notice something about them.

Despite her initial intentions, Attie had enough common sense to realize it would not be a good idea to approach anyone right now. She thought briefly about assisting with crowd control, but also realized that doing so while waving evidence about wouldn’t be a good idea either. So she found a corner and waited for an opportunity.

From this vantage point she noticed Scourge Moro finally make his appearance. She knew she wasn’t the only one who had noticed his absence.  Then there was Jennie, who was trying to help gather the crowd into smaller, calmer groups when she came face to face with someone she knew just from looking at was a 13th generation Gangrel on the verge of Frenzy. Attie watched as Jennie used Dominate to calm him down and then mouth words that she couldn’t quite make out but looked for all the world like they’d said “at least I didn’t get the whoopsie doodles.”

Sabrina was a testament to her clan, using Melpominee to calm the crow. No one could resists the mellowing music, and within three or four breaths - if vampires could breathe, that is - peace descended.

“I want volunteers,” Prince Howl began. Before he could even finish his sentence, Attie and Fennec had raised their hands, lifting them as soon as they heard the “v” in “volunteers” being sounded out. His sentence finished, Jennie indicated her willingness (Attie thought it may also have something to do with her clan owing several boons) and Sabrina also joined in.

“No one will leave until either Sheriff D’Amore or myself has vetted you, regardless of volunteer status,” he finished.

And now Scourge Moro had approached Fennec and Primogen Kane and directed his words toward the latter. “Are we good here?”

Attie clapped in her mind as Fennec went off loudly on him, pointing out his noted absence as well as his failure to do anything with the seven or so Kindred who had been on the verge of Frenzy. How dare he not do his job and leave it for others to do?!

They began to stare each other down, neither one backing off until Prince Howl called Moro off. Looking over the volunteers, he said they would each need to be questioned to narrow them down into a group the Court could both trust and use. As they were led into a back room, Attie saw Fennec slip Kane a piece of paper. The only words she could make out of this part of their conversation was “phone number.”

Now in a small conference room, D’Amore told Fennec to lock down the room. As he Assamite went to work, he then looked to Attie, whose hands were still full of evidence. “Bring it here,” he demanded.

Attie did not take it personally as she carefully laid out her coat and Daniel’s head  on a table at the front of the room. As she did so, he continued by asking “What did you see?”

Attie truthfully related what she had seen, and ended by saying “I also found this in his mouth. I thought it was paper, but it’s not” as she laid out the stamped skin.

“What do you make of it?” D’Amore asked.

“From my perspective it looks like a declaration of war, or at the very least a precursor to one.”

“Is there anything either of you can do with this? he asked Jennie and Sabrina. There wasn’t anything that Sabrina could do, but Attie wouldn’t fault her for that given what she had done in the last fifteen minutes or so. Jennie sensed something mystical about the head, but beyond that . . .

And then the sheriff flexed his beast with an aura of authority that was close enough to Attie’s she wasn’t sure which of them held the higher generation. “Be honest and do not lie to me. If you lie to me I will know it and you will not enjoy the consequences. Do any of you have anything against Primogen Kane or his ghoul, Daniel Sterling?”

All answered in the negative.

“Do you have anything against Prince August Howl or his Domain?”

All answered in the negative, with both Jennie and Fennec adding in how much they owed to the Prince.

“Do you have any concerns or issues with the ruling members of Prince Howl’s court?”

This time Fennec answered with an emphatic yes. She owed much to the Prince, particularly in how he had protected her. Her clan would always be her number one priority - along with their acceptance - which the Prince understood. The sheriff himself was honest and had done nothing to cause her concern. It was the others that were a problem.

There was something wrong with Keeper Thornwood, and it didn’t take much to see that she was so far along a path of humanity it was going to cause problems sooner rather than later.

Scourge Moro was obviously a plant and coudn’t be trusted any more than a vampire would last in the noonday sun.

This seemed to her a setup on Kane, and perhaps the Council itself. There were five Ventrue that obviously did not help their Primogen. There was the Tremere missing Court for no good reason. This could very well be some Kindred of Liberty bullshit designed to let Prince Howl fail in his experiment. She went to far as to accuse Thornwood of being out-and-out Sabbat and finished by saying “if Attie and I could sense things were wrong mere moments before shit hit the fan, why didn’t the folks whose jobs it is to know things figure it out ahead of time? If things went any differently than they had thanks to some of our quick thinking, it wouldn’t have taken much before someone came in and said p-r-a-x-i-s.” She made sure to spell out the last word.

D’Amore looked to Attie for clarification. She hadn’t outright said she sensed something was wrong in her initial questioning, though she had said her instincts kicked in to immediately start moving toward the object (now known to be Daniel Sterling’s head) sailing through the window.

“Gut instinct. A feeling that something in the air just isn’t right. Sometimes it’s nothing, and sometimes . . .” She allowed her voice to trail off and D’Amore nodded, seeming to accept this explanation.

Once more they all assured the sheriff of their loyalty and then Fennec had questions about the recent Sabbat attack. D’Amore filled in the details:

It was more of a show of strength at first, with dozens of Kindred making their presence known in the city, particularly at the mall. They were led by one Ursula Dunwell of Clan Lasombra, known Ductus of a pack of Sababt Kindred, though a pack of this size was nearly unheard of. She used their presence in the city to leverage a promise from Prince Howl to meet with her.

At this point Prince Howl himself entered the room, and with no introduction said “I have a proposal.”

“I accept,” Jennie replied, earning her a look of mild amusement.

“It may be wise to hear the whole proposal,” Sabrina cautioned, and then Howl began again.

“I have a proposal. I am the Prince of this city, and Louis D’Amore is my Sheriff. All other spots on this council are up for grabs.

“Even your Seneschal?” Fennec clarified.

“I have had very little say on the members of my court. I was allowed to nominate only three of its members, and of those three I could personally approve one of them. He is here in this room with us. We have been betrayed. Bring me evidence of betrayal by anyone in my court and their position is yours, should you want it. I will also grant you a special dispensation and lift the forthcoming restriction against visiting The Witching Hour. In the course of your investigation, you will find my name on both the deed to the building and the establishment of the business. Make of that what you will.”

The others accepted his proposal while Attie thought, the gears turning behind her mask. Eventually it came to her and she said “I have lived in this city since I was first born. It would be a honor to serve it under you.”

Prince Howl looked at her for a moment before replying. “If this were under different circumstances, I could hug you,” he said.

At this point the Sheriff took his leave to go find the rest of Daniel’s body. When he had gone, Prince Howl continued.

“Don’t trust anybody. Not even myself. Something his happening . . .”

Attie now had a bit of an existential crisis. To not trust the prince hadn’t even crossed her mind. The Prince of a city was there to be trusted, weren’t they?

Howl now seemed to be talking to himself. “Let’s say . . . Let’s try . . . Honesty. Yes, that’s it. Let’s try honesty this time.” And then we returned his attention to the others.

“I do not know why the Sabbat asked to play nice,” he began.

“At least until the 31st,” Fennec muttered as Howl continued:

“They did not want free run of the city; rather, they asked for some neutral space. I still have friends in the Sabbat, and it seems they are placing a priority on sanctity and safety more and more. I’m not even sure I was speaking clearly when I was in that meeting. Whatever is happening is large, and however is behind it has eyes everywhere.”

At the mention of eyes, they all seemed to turn towards the head still sitting on the table. “It has an odd sort of beauty, doesn’t it?” Prince Howl asked in a district shift of tone from how he had just been speaking.

As Attie processed those words, she realized she’d someone missed Jennie walking across the room and picking it up before seemingly shaking herself out of a trance and setting it back down.

“Is my coat still evidence then?” Attie asked.

“Yes, and unfortunately I think we’re going to need to destroy it along with poor Daniel’s head sooner rather than later. Anything it touched may be contaminated.

Attie looked at her hand.

“We could take it just to be sure. it’d regrow when next you rose anyway.”

“But that would make investigation that much more difficult,” she pointed out.

Attie was allowed to keep her hand, but the coat would have to go.

Fennec offered to contact her dads to come help Prince Howl so he would not be left unattended. She did something involving a ribbon and a flame produced from a Zippo lighter. Attie noted that she and Fennec and Howl did not necessarily mind the flame as the ribbon burned to ash, while Jennie and Sabrina took a few step back.

The ashes now transferred to Howl, Fennec turned attention to the head. Donning latex gloves she wrapped up the skin and the head in Attie’s coat and, leaving the Prince inside, the rest followed her out into the street. Finding a nearby burn barrel used by some unhoused persons, Fennec convinced them to let them have use of it for a few moments. It probably looked like she was burning drugs.

Holding her hands in the fire - a feat in and of itself - Attie’s coat and Fennec’s gloves were reduced to ash. Daniel’s head, however, seems to undergo a different change. The eyes were open and seemed to fix themselves on Fennec. If Daniel’s head hadn’t been separated from Daniel’s body, Attie would have sworn Daniel was conscious and alert.

They immediately went back inside and informed Prince Howl they had a problem, drawing attention to Daniel’s newfound alertness, with Fennec messaging one of her dads as well.

Fennec now began theorizing that this was something even deeper, something perhaps from either within the Boston Court or perhaps even the Council itself to frame the Sabbat and utterly destroy not only August Howl, but any of his associates, contacts, and liaisons.

They began asking Daniel question, using one blink for yes and one blink for no. He didn’t know who had decapitated him, but he also didn’t see them, either. He wasn’t sure if he was outside The Witching Hour.

Realizing they had questions that couldn’t be answered with a simple yes or no, Fennec asked if Daniel knew morse code. He blinked yes and then Fennec turned to Attie.

“And do you know morse code, or am I wrong in thinking you wore more than just a costume?”

“Definitely not a costume,” Attie replied before beginning to ask questions, translating as she went.

To summarize, Daniel didn’t remember where he was when things went wrong. He remembered getting Priogen Kane’s suit prepared and then leaving to get his blood. He passed by The Witching Hour and thought about it as a business location and then . . . Daniel remembered nothing until looking out though the flames into Fenenc’s face. Up until tonight he’d considered himself a typically normal Ventrue ghoul.

At this point the door was kicked in mule-style, and in came Fennec’s dads, followed by Sheriff D’Amore carrying a headless body.

Leaving them with Prince Howl to see what would happen if they tried to smush, stitch, or otherwise attach the two parts together, the rest of them went out into Boston and made their way to The Witching Hour.

#### *The Witching Hour*

The Witching Hour was in the middle of old town Boston. It was now sometime between 10 and 11 at night, and the streets here were lit with gas lamps. Tourism was a thing, after all. The building’s brickwork dated to the mid 19th century, outlined in dark wood trim - both of which offset the bright, vibrant red door. A modern sign in a handwritten font named The Witching Hour and surrounded the name with several four-pointed stars. A circle imposed behind it was a neon circle flashing on and off.

A line thirty people deep stretched away from the door, the hopeful clubgoers dressed in alt-goth fashion and dressed for the British synth-goth music emanating from inside.

Sabrina sauntered to the front of the line and laid the charm on thick for the massive twin bouncers. One was decidedly a vampire; the other was . . . not.

Attie definitely stood out from the others. Whereas the other three had decidedly feminine attire, Attie did not. Her saving grace was that it was Halloween and perhaps this weekend she might be forgiven for looking inhuman to Kine.

Sarbina’s caress and somewhat seductive persuasion worked and the found themselves let into the club, much to the frustration of those already in line.

Inside was decidedly 18th Century Gothic, with the overwhelming color choice being dark black. Looking around for Ursula, Fennec spotted her on the dance floor, her moves betraying a very, very high dexterity.

The room they were in was comprised mainly of mortals, with about five vampires doing vampire shit. One of them was dressed in jeans and a white tee with Koran-war-era military boots. It was impossible to tell of they were surplus or earned, but they were laced in the military fashion. This one was more greaser than goth. The vampires doing vampire shit were definitely Sabbat or Sabbat-adjacent.

Fennec found a newbie who had just been turned within the last three days and scared the shit out of him before he finally relented and went to fetch Abbot Mordecai, who happened to be the greaser Attie had just noticed.

Telling the others not to talk to him, Fennec went out on the dance floor. Of course Mordecai immediately started to hit on Jennie, who told him somewhat politely to fuck off.

Out on the dance floor, Ursula used Dominate on Fennec and told her to dance and enjoy herself.

Mordecai commented that “your friend looks like she could use some help” to which Sabrina cast her voice using a ventriloquist skill to call Fennec back to reality and the table. Coming out of her trance, Fennec tried to make herself the most irresistible drug in the vicinity to Ursula. Unfortunately she forgot to warn those as the table and it was only because they were a distance away and on heightened alert due to proximity to Mordecai that they were not also drawn to her. Fennec was better than any pharmaceutical, and now that she had Ursula’s attention she convinced her it would be worthwhile to hear them out.

Ursula commented that she was protecting the dancers, but no one knew what to make of that immediately. As it was, Ursula led Fennec toward a back room. Mordecai rose to follow, and Atite and Jennie and Sabrina all rose as well. From above them, Attie saw another Nosferatu drop from the rafters - if Ursula was the Ductus and Mordecai the Abbot, then this must be their Priest.

### Session Three

#### *The Witching Hour*

They went through an arched doorway; the next room was seemingly dedicated to an automatic DJ. A ladder went up into the rafters, and Attie watched as the Nosferatu finished their descent.

Another archway and another room and the darkness seemed a bit unnatural. More than one discipline, in fact, and while Attie recognized obtenebration, she failed to sense the obfuscate. Perhaps she could be forgiven; obfuscate to a Nos was like water to a fish.

The descendent Nosferatu was tall and elongated and rather insect like. Their features went beyond the typical Nosferatu disfigurements and indicated that whoever this was had tried to improve their appearance on multiple occasions - which, because they were Nosferatu, meant their disfigurements became worse.

They now took up the rear of the line, not in the sense that they were trying to herd anyone, but more in the sense that that was the first logical place to insert themselves.

They all passed a doorway looking into a third room, and though Attie could tell someone was in there, she couldn’t tell anything more.

The fourth room was clearly the employee break room and had yet another layer of obtenebration on it. Ursula gave Mordecai a look, and he circled back around and exited the room - Attie could hear him take up a guard position outside. They would not be interrupted.

The Nosferatu closed their eyes and the outside sounds became muffled. This was just like the silence from Quietus that Fennec had cast earlier, and she recognized it too.

Fennec introduced herself to the Nos, who in turn indicated they were called Warlock. This caused Attie and Jennie some momentary confusion before they realized Warlock was indicating their name and not their profession. It turned out that both Fennec and Warlock had been taught Quietus by the same individual - known to Fennec as Maud and to Warlock as Maudlin. There was a momentary disagreement when Fennec said that Maud was good people, and Warlock disagreed. Then again, this could depend on the definition of “good” one was using.

Ursula was arranging chairs and offered a seat. Fennec perched in chair and Warlock stood in a corner and so Attie took a chair and sat in the corner. She liked corners but had been standing for quite a bit. With only Kindred in the room and surrounded by a vail of obtenebration and quietus, Attie took off her mask and worked her jaw.

Warlock grinned. “Welcome. What secrets do you have to share, little sibling?”

Attie looked at them a little more and got the feeling they were quite the zealot of Caine.

“No secrets yet, but the night is young.”

“Perhaps I’ll visit the warrens next moonrise.”

Attie didn’t know what to say, so she purposefully winked badly. It was not flirtatious, but an acknowledgment of what was said.

Ursula began speaking; the short version was they she was in charge of her pack but was uncertain about the big picture of what was happening in the city. She asked for insight.

Fennec and Attie tag-teamed the answer, filling Ursula and Warlock in about what had happened that night at the Ames and how they felt folks on all sides were being set up. There was a brief moment of levity when Fennec was trying to describe Moro and Attie suggested he was kinda like Saruman from the Lord of the Rings books, but then the conversation went back to serious business as they tried to collectively figure out what they might be dealing with.

Ursula looked guarded as she verified she and her pack were in Boston for a reason, and that reason had something to do with the Inquisitors in her organization - and that information wasn’t going to leave the room, was it? Beyond that Ursula would not say much to anyone outside her organization. Suffice to say there was a demon in the city and the dancing was part of a ritual to counter whatever was happening outside the doors of The Witching Hour.

Fennec wanted to know if Attie or Jennie or Sabrina had any dealing with any creatures other than mortals and vampires. Both Attie and Sabrina had experience with soldiers, but Attie guessed their experiences had been vastly different.

Fennec looked both interested and amused. “Let’s put a pin in that and come back to it at some point because I’m sure it will be important, but right now . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Of course, we could always do this the easy way,” Ursula said as she dropped some of the obtenebration, revealing and gesturing to a green glass bowl.

“Don’t touch it,” Fennec said. “That bowl is death if you touch it.”

“Only if one were to speak of it,” Ursula said.

“What if there were another way?” Fennec wanted it know - “What if I could kill one?”

“Kill a demon?” Ursula asked incredulously.

What more they said seemed to fade from Attie’s ears as she was drawn by Ursula’s words and the promise of secret knowledge and the mysterious green glass bowl. Ursula was offering them all something more: the Vaulderie - a ritual in which Kindred would bleed, mix their blood, and then drink it, symbolizing the bond between the pact and Caine. The ritual also resulted in a blood bond between the participants, meaning none could intentionally cause physical harm to any other of the participants.

Ursula sensed Attie’s interest and played to her insecurities. The pack had already performed the ritual for that evening, and so whoever chose to participate would only do so with her. The signs of participation would be less noticeable in the Nosferatu, and if anyone asked Atite could just say she had a spotted past.

“That’s not a lie,” Attie said out loud just as Ursula said “I suspect that’s close to the truth, at any rate.”

Attie looked from Fennec to Ursula and knew that sometimes sacrifices had to made made for the sake of the mission. “What I do I do for Boston,” she said out loud, more to herself than to anyone else, but perhaps they all needed an explanation.

Fennec turned her back on Attie and cast her own Quietus; Jennie and Sabrina joined her. What Attie did was her own choice, but if questioned, the others could deny having seen or heard anything.

Warlock produced a ritual knife and Ursula made a fist with her right hand and then held it to her heart, crossing her arm over her chest. Then, taking the knife, she cut down her arm and bled one blood point into the green glass bowl. She held the knife out to Attie.

Attie copied Ursula’s actions and then Warlock began speaking. Attie heard snippets of what he said “night eternal . . . shadows deep . . . we stand . . . praise Caine . . . may the bonds be broken . . .”

Attie wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but nothing happened physically. Ursula took the bowl from Warlock and handed it to her; she took it and drank half. It tasted coppery sweet, almost like a dessert wine or a candy-infused alcohol.

Ursula drank the rest and then Warlock produced a washcloth, cleaning the bowl and then burning the cloth and sterilizing the bowl with fire.

“If I have met your satisfaction,” Attie said, “I believe we were talking about the inquisitors?” As she finished her sentence, she noticed Warlock grinning, and turning to him before Ursula could answer, told them “See? I told you the night was young.” This seemed to delight Warlock to no end.

And then, after Attie promised to take responsibility for the secrets Ursula was about to share, Ursula told them what she had been reluctant to say just a few moments ago.

The inquisitors were here investigating one oof her own: a Malkavian named Samael who thought himself a fallen. He had left the pack and been tracked to the city, where he had made as-yet unknown allies. He seemed convinced he’d uncovered a ritual to “allow him to embody his true form.”

His betrayal ran deep; Samael used to be the Abbot before Mordecai.

Fennec and Attie both sensed a pattern of divide and conquer.

Ursula continued and further explained that the ritual being performed at the Witching Hour was to disrupt the lay lines Samael was trying to access. As to what, exactly, he was trying to access remained a mystery, but there was a sketchbook . . . Ursula stepped out.

Fennec turned attention to Warlock, who said

“I have always been a monster. Even before my Embrace I was one with the shadows. Never have the whispers been so quiet, like the calm before the storm. I do not know what is coming, but your questions are the same the Ductus asked before we came here.”

Ursula returned with the sketchbook and handed it over to Fennec, who did not open it but held it closely to her chest and seemed to absorb it. Ursula knew of two inquisitors in Boston, which probably meant there were three or four. They had until Samhain to make things right (or make significant strides in that direction).

Determining that it was in their best unterstes to keep moving, Fennec asked about leaving out the back door. On the way out, Mordecai slapped Sabrina’s hand with potency. Attie could have sworn it should have dealt aggravated damage but Sabrina shrugged it off.

“I’ve been hit worse,” she said as they stepped out into the night air of Boston.

#### *The Streets of Boston*

Fennec had an idea but needed a quiet place. It would also help to find a Malkavian somewhat predisposed to help them.

Atite knew these streets and thought they might be able to assist in both regards, and she led them across several streets to a quiet alleyway where Jennie pointed out a dumpster and cardboard box with a pair of feet sticking out from under. They disappeared and the heard a shuffling sound.

Fennec had been doing something on the ground when the Malkavian emerged - all 6’6” of him.

“Are you lost?”

Rousing from her task, Fennec started the introductions before she was cut off.

“Not here. Inside.”

And so, Attie found herself being led inside the cardboard box, where her mind started to betray her. It just couldn’t make sense of things. Atite thought maybe it was hiding an entrance of some kind, but everything in her said they were in a cardboard box that shouldn’t have been able to fit the Malkavian, let alone all of them together.

It was made worse when the tunnel opened up into a furnished room.

Introducing himself as Gabe, the Malkavian began talking. Again, Attie’s mind wouldn’t allow her to focus on what was being said, and she knew it would come back to bite her (she chuckled a the pun) if she couldn’t keep it together.

Gabe wanted to talk about the mythology of Samael and then a comment by Jennie seemed to send him down a rabbit trail involving baptism and souls and angels before Fennec brought the conversation back around with the sketchbook.

There was a clock theme as well as self-portraits. The clocked first showed five minutes to midnight, but as they flipped through the pages the clock ticked closer to midnight and the quality oof the sketches degraded, or at least went from realism to surrealism.

The last page of the sketchbook was a self-portrait - about every five pages was a self-portrait - but this one was on fire.

Gabe reached out a finger to touch the book and it started smoking. Fennec stopped it, telling him she’d promised to get it back where it belonged.

And then Gabe had a vision or a prophecy or something.

“Liberty will ride and the sun will not rise. Do not go to the harbor; there is a harlequin at play.”

### Session Four

#### *The Streets of Boston*

“Maybe it will be better if you show me,” Fennec suggested and gently reached out a bare hand to Gabe, who nodded as he cautiously took it in his own.

From Attie’s perspective only a moment passed, enough time to blink - if she had needed to blink, that is - and then Fennec’s skin started to blister and she dropped Gabe’s hand and immediately passed out.

From Fennec’s perspective, things were different. She and GAbe were transported into an unfurnished room save for two chairs where the two of them sat. Fennec was experiencing the pain and trauma of Gabe’s Embrace and whispered words of encouragement to him: “we are not the tapestry of our trauma . . .”

And then they were transported to 11:30 PM on October 31 - four days in the future. The moon was bigger than it had any right to be, and the one styling themselves as Samael stepped out onto a pier and summoned a thick, dense, obscuring fog. From out of the fog came a ship flying black sails - by all appearances it was a decaying cog from the high Middle Ages, perhaps Prussian or Friesian in nature.

“Oh shit,” Fennec whispered.

A figure disembarked - they wore black shrouded robes and as they stepped onto the pier Samael genuflected. Looking down at Samael the figure began to pull back his hood as Samael looked up and said

“Welcome to your new kingdom, o Sleeping Lord.”

And that is when Fennec passed out- if vampires could pass out. Attie had been around long enough to know something like this should only happen if the affected vampire had suffered significant physical damage or was severely low in blood. The former was obviously not the case, and in the latter, Attie hadn’t noticed any of the telltale signs that Fennec needed blood. Eliminating those options left something more metaphysical in nature, and if that were the case Fennec should come around quite shortly.

That’s exactly what happened. Gabe opened his eyes first, perhaps because his own body/mind were used to these kinds of things, and then Fennec came to.

“You had us worried there,” Attie said and Fennec replied “You should be. This Halloween’s going to suck. And I mean suck suck. No one except for a very select few would want to suck the face I just saw.”

And then Fennec turned to Gabe. “You did great” she said and extended a hand for a high five, which Gabe reached out an just barely touched Fennec’s open palm as Fennec filled in the rest of them on the vision.

“It’s four days away; a lot can happen in four days,” Attie observed.

“That’s why I’m afraid, Ms Attie,” Gabe replied, the worry evident in his tone.

They all tried to reassure him that having this advance knowledge of events might give them an edge.

“We need to keep folks away from the harbor,” Fennec began

“I have a way to do that,” Gabe replied and pointed to a stack of sandwich boards with religious slogans painted on them. “I have a way of making folks . . . uncomfortable.”

“Don’t we all?” Attie asked rhetorically.

It was now somewhere between 1 or 1:30 in the morning and sunrise was about five hours away. There still seemed to be so much to do. Parting ways with Gabe they made their way back to the Ames building.

#### *The Ames Building*

By this point the main ballroom had been cleared out, though the building itself was still neutral territory. What folks remained to be questioned or vetted had been separated into other areas of the hotels; Prince Howl had likely used his influence - as well as a fair bit of money - to buy out a block of rooms.

They were led back to the Prince’s suite, which was being guarded by Creed Moro. He refused them entrance and Attie opened her mouth to tell him to go fuck himself when Fennec beat her to it and told him to “go fetch whatever permission you need to get to open this door before we just ignore you and go in anyway.”

He left to go talk to someone; Attie wondered who he would need to ask. She assumed it would be Prince Howl himself since Sheriff D’Amore was out playing Doctors Frankenstein with Lex and Liam. It was clear Scourge Moro wanted them to feel his authority by making them wait.

The sound of booted footsteps announced the arrival of Eliza Thornwood, who seemed surprised to see the group; she had been hoping for a private audience with Prince Howl. Seemingly working in tandem, Sabrina and Fennec and Jennie worked over, talked to, and distracted the Keeper - asking how she was doing and how she was holding up and if there was anything she needed for her nerves. Thornwood wasn’t attracted to women, so some of Sabrina’s wiles fell slightly short, but she was still somewhat awestruck talking to someone with undoubtedly celebrity status. Jennie read her aura and picked up a new jumpiness that went beyond the usual Malkavian mental state; she might even be said to be hiding something dangerous, but whether she herself was dangerous or just knew a dangerous secret was something that could not be determined.

Thornwood herself now seemed cognizant that they would not leave her alone and was in the process of excusing herself when things went sideways.

Fennec had used some form of biothaumaturgy to get information on Creed Moro and her blood . . rebounded? And no sooner had she felt it slap back than she felt it go off like it was supposed do. It was like she had initially encountered an error and then someone said “oh Moro? Oh yeah. 8th generation Gangrel.” The answer was obviously manipulated, and in the confusion Fennec felt a three-point blood bond - though whether that was information regarding Moro or if someone had hacked her metaphysical attack would be a question for another time. Soon, but not right now.

“The Prince is in danger,” she said, and no sooner had the words left her mouth than both Attie and Sabrina went for the door.

Perhaps is was because she was already watching the halls that Attie got their first and simply tested the knob, which turned easily under her hand just as Sabrina’s boot found the wood, slamming the door open and against the interior wall. Attie stepped inside and to the right, placing herself against the open door as she drew her Colt.

Inside, Creed Moro was drawing a longsword, drawing his palm across the blade and bleeding on it. Where his blood touched the blade, a black, vigorous ooze appeared. August himself was backed up against one of the windows, a table lamp gripped firmly in one hand.

Frustratingly interrupted, Creed shifted. Had her personal knowledge of shifting creatures been better, she might have recognized him as a Black Spiral Dancer in Crinos form. As it was, her brain told her “That’s a whole ass werewolf!”

Attie’s first thought was to tell Creed Moro to heel, but her Common Sense told her this would have the opposite of her intended effect. She settled on “drop it,” using her manipulation and intimidation in an attempt to disarm him.

Creed’s shoulders dropped and his lips curled and for one brief second he actually considered it. But it just wasn’t enough. Given the struggle, he must have had access to a merit or used willpower to ensure success.

Attie had tried to resolve things mostly peacefully and so now she fired her Colt, striking Creed with two points of lethal damage and most certainly drawing his focus and ire.

Even in Crinos form, werewolves can choose to speak normally; Creed simply growled.

Fennec reached around her neck and seemingly pulled a sword from out of nowhere. Copying Creed’s movements she drew her hand across the blade, but rather than black ichor, a flickering fire appeared. She plunged the sword into Creed’s heart and he dropped lifeless to the ground.

And then he raged back to life, his bones and joints creaking and cracking as he stood back to his feet.

Fennec disappeared from right in front of him, causing Creed to sweep the longsword in a wide arc. It caught Fennec’s armored corset and dealt 1 point of acid damage - though, considering the source, it was likely Fennec would need to have that looked at by someone . . .

With Creed’s attention now on the door, Prince August Howl got himself a running start and then bashed the lamp into Creed’s spine, where it began to melt. As Creed cried out in panic, August continued to push his advantage.

Jennie took a page from Attie’s playbook and tried to command Creed to freeze. It rattled in his brain and gave him pause but still he held his sword and form and gave no sign of surrender. Jennie then walked directly up the wall and onto the ceiling to place herself in a better vantage point.

Sabrina tried to use her music against him; Attie could have sworn Sabrina started singing “Do Your Really Want to Hurt Me?”. And whether it was Sabrina in particular or the fact that so many things had been vying for his attention that he couldn’t focus, Creed shifted back into Homid and began to clam down, coming out of his frenzy as the other surrounded him.

They might only have moments before he snapped out of it and back into a rage; Attie took this time to close and lock the door.

Meanwhile, Fenenc was talking to Thornwood and Prince Howl. How the fuck did a goddamn werewolf end up on the Council? How the hell did nobody know or notice? The fact was that, smell-wise, vampires and wyrm-touched werewolves (as was the case with Black Spiral Dancers) smelled like, well, blood and wyrm. And some werewolf Gifts acted like vampire Merits, and if nobody looked too closely . . . Of course, he’d been ghouled (Fennec pointed out) which meant he had someone on the inside. Or more accurately, someone on the inside was using him. But who . . .?

Fennec turned to look at Thornwood, and as the Keeper began to protest, Jennie said from behind (and above) her, “but you’re hiding something. And you’re nervous. And there’s a hint of something dangerous. I can see it.”

“That’s interesting,” Prince Howl said, “because when I look at you all I see is someone who wants nothing more than to be liked and accepted by her Prince. So that raises the question, Eliza,” (there was the smallest of beats) “why do you have two different auras?”

“Well, to start, she isn’t even Malkavian,” Fennec said. “I don’t know what she is, but we can soon find out. Get me a hair?”

“Don’t touch me,” Eliza Thornwood spat as Attie stepped forward.

“Oh, so you’re going to give it to me?”

“Never,” she answered venomously.

But folks forget that up is also a direction, and Thornwood had lost track of Jennie, who now reached down and deftly plucked a hair from the top of her head and then scuttled away and down the wall, handing it to Fennec, who had been writing something on the floor.

Thornwood glowered as Fennec said “Now he won’t go anywhere (motioning to Creed) and as for you (turning to face Thornwood) we’ve tried the easy way and now we’ll use the fun way. Either way we get results.”

She turned the hair briefly in her hands before drawing out her lighter and burning it.

“Let’s see . . . Eliza Thornwood is a ninth generation Tremere antitribu with traces of diablerie, a vinculum with Samael but no one else, a ghouled werewolf, and a three-point blood bond to one Jairus Viscari - the Malkavian Justicar. I don’t see any ties to the city, but . . .” Fennec’s voice trailed off. “But that’s all I’m going to relate with her in the room.” She grinned at the angry, dumbstruck Keeper.

Prince Howl had closed his eyes as he listened to Fennec’s litany; when he opened them the capillaries had burst from rage and his body was as perfectly still as a vampire could make it. Anger wouldn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling.

“Is no one on my Council who they claim to be? Well, that will soon be remedied. I will require proof of the allegations I will bring, but I see no need to keep both. Which will we kill and which will we save for other’s justice?”

“A master is responsible for its dog,” Attie observed, and she could have sworn both the Prince and Fennec smiled at this.

“Very well. Kill him and put her in torpor,” Howl said dispassionately. Who will do this for me?”

“I think Attie should put down the dog; he seemed to have it out for her, all things considered,” Fennec said. “And as for her, well, I think I’ve earned this one.”

Attie stepped toward Creed. “A few shots in the back of the head ought to do the trick,” she observed, and as she came close to the Prince he said “Best make it efficient,” and handed her several silvered bullets. As she took them he continued “and make sure he’s on his knees.”

“Loading the ammunition in her Colt, Attie wryly observed “ah, the good old days once again”.

Their respective duties now done, Prince Howl spoke again. “It seems there are now several vacancies on my council as it appears I shall require a new Scourge and a new Keeper. Don’t hurt yourselves fighting for position.”

“Three positions at least, if you consider you still lack a Harpy,” Fennec observed, “and as luck would have it you have three such persons who have been doing those exact jobs for you this every night. Attie is a Scourge if ever I saw one; we’ve all seen - or rather heard - what Sabrina can do with her voice, that’s Harpy material right there; and Jennie proved it from the very first moment she entered Elysium tonight representing her clan.”

Prince Howl seemed to be in agreement. Typically, the Harpy was appointed by the Primogen Council, but given the . . experimental nature of his reign, and the fact that they had failed to appoint a Harpy up to this point, as well as the threats to the city in which the calling of boons and other favors would likely be vital . . . It was a decision he was willing to make. It would probably be the least of his so-called “transgressions” according to his naysayers - - but it still wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Jennie had some questions about the Keeper, in particular if she might be afforded a room as she just couldn’t go back to the chantry. As Prince Howl carefully and gently explained the politics of why that would be impossible in this specific case (and pointed out that having her in the chantry would give them access to needed materials) there came a pounding at the door that threatened to cave it in.

Attie had taken up position by the door once more and now glanced out the peephole to see Fennec’s dads winding up for another run at the door.

“Hang on I’ve got it!” Attie called out as she opened the door. Lex and Liam were followed by Sheriff D’Amore who  - taking in the scene practically shouted

“What the hell is going on tonight? The Scourge dead and the Keeper in torpor?”

Attie patted herself down. “Dead? Huh. news to me because I feel fine.”

“Oh so you’ve decided to take my offer, then,” Prince Howl remarked. “My apologies, I mustn’t have heard you with everything going on.”

And then they filled in the newcomers with what had been happening. As they did so, Fennec worked on Creed’s body so that to anyone else it would look like he’d died of natural causes and not being shot execution-style.

Time was working against them for the remainder of the night. Jennie would return to the chantry and plan on how to best wield her newfound power. Sabrina would go to her haven and take stock of her resources - there was a Halloween party to plan, after all, though Prince Howl did ask that it not be a masquerade.

“Damn, and I was just about to have access to 1,000 masks,” Attie observed with a laugh.

Speaking of Attie, she and Fennec would go out and try to find some sympathetic werewolves who would be glad a Black Spiral Dancer had been put down and hope that in their gratitude they would help here with the ichor she’d encountered in fighting Creed.

And there they departed the Ames building to do what they might before sunup.

### Session Five

#### *Before Daybreak*

As they made their way to the outskirts of Boston, Attie took the opportunity to go through Creed Moro’s pockets and to get a good look at his features. She found about $1,500 cash in his pockets and not much else, but was able to get such a good look at him that, if she chose to try to imitate him, only a sibling or perhaps a close clanmate would recognize the deception. Of course, she'd seen him in Crinos form as well, and that was bound to come in handy.

Fennec and Attie found a group of werewolves willing to help them, and while Fennec made friends by challenging the more athletic of the Garu to wrestling matches, Attie found herself sitting and talking with those who called themselves Philodox - counselors, mediators, and law-keepers. They spend the remainder of the evening coming to the conclusion that it would be mutually beneficial for their to be a loose alliance of sorts.

As the werewolves began turning in around 2:30 or so in the morning, Attie and Fennec made their way back towards their respective resting areas, splitting up when it became possible for Attie to get down under the ground and make her way to the Warren  in relative safety. Fennec asked Attie to give regards to Stitch, but the tech-obsessed Nos was already in bed and so it would have to wait until nightfall.

#### *Rough Sleepers*

##### Fennec

Fennec made it home safely and she went about her normal routine: setting her wards and preparing the tarp she used instead of sheets. She knew it made Lex and Liam upset she had to use it, almost like they’d messed up her Embrace somehow, but she couldn’t blame them for the way things had turned out.

They talked about their guest in the basement and how much blood they should provide.

There were only a few moments left before sunrise when Fennec entered her room and discovered - to her shock and horror - that she was not alone. A tall figure wearing a hood that obscured his face stood in the shadows. He held out his hand . . .

Fennec understood what was happening -  she’d done similar herself - but was unable to fully resist the blood magic her unwelcome visitor was using against her. She could not move, but her emotions told her to rage and to frenzy as the intruder held out his arms as if to give Fennec a hug.

Fennec was able to move her hands in a small gesture that seemed to effect the unwelcome one, who processed to roll his shoulders and literally shake off whatever Fennec had tried.

And now the hand was back out again, this time reaching out towards Fennec. She felt her heart gripped tightly, and if she’d been mortal she’d have sworn she felt the symptoms of cardiac arrest.

And then Fennec was opening her eyes the next moonrise, still in the same clothes and with the tarp undisturbed - a thing which hadn’t happened in the last twelve years or so. One of her dads knocked on the door, and what followed was a very serious discussion that circled back to one idea: a Methuselah.

Just then Fennec received a message from Jennie via mirror . . .

##### Jennie

Jennie’s night had gone about as well as one could expect - or almost, at least. She’d gone back to the Chantry to make use of the library and while there were plenty of ghouls around there were no other of her clan and she tried to look up something - anything - about the Sleeping Lord. She had about fifteen minutes before sunrise when she came across some mention of the creature an a family tree of sorts. It claimed the Sleeping Lord was also called the Maiden of Plagues, and was descended from the Scorpion King. The Scorpion King (lost, so it would seem) was descended from Set, descended from Zillah, descended from Caine himself - meaning their opponent was a 5th-generation Setite.

But where had the time gone? She’d had fifteen minutes when she saw the illustration but now time was not on her side and there were only thirty seconds for her to find something before she spent the night at the desk. A Tremere library wouldn’t necessarily be a dangerous place to spend the day, but it wasn’t necessarily ideal, either. However, Jennie used her wits and found a low shelf under one of the desks and curled up onto it as her seconds ran out.

And then she was reliving her Embrace in all its chilling awfulness. But this time something was different; her sire was somehow different. He was hooded and cloaked and as he fed Jennie his blood the hood shifted and she saw the Sleeping Lord,  who in turn claimed to be offered her a gift. Those words echoed in her mind as she woke up cold and soaked with water and blood as telltale bite marks rapidly healed on her kneck.

She reached for mirror and sent a message to Fenenc, who’d also had an unpleasant experience. They determined they should meet up, but without knowing exactly where or how Sabrina or Attie had made out, it might be best to find the Prince. With her new position as Harpy, Sabrina at least was likely to be with him planning for the coming Halloween party.

##### Sabrina

Sabrina had no problems with her rest. No. Strange dreams; no strange visitors in the night. She woke up to the sounds of violin music and, taking in the blood that had been left out for her, went to check on Vicky. She found her playing her instrument - and apparently she’d been playing for a while. Her fingers were bloody and there were bloody streaks all along her violin.

As she took in the scene, Sabrina heard in her ears as it were the sounds of many instruments, enough to overpower her own thoughts in the truest definition of cacophony. Sabrina tried to stop Vicky’s playing. Reaching out to touch her, she noticed her hair clung to her face in places, and as she turned Vicky in her chair she locked eyes with her eyes: eyes like snakes.

And then Vicky was gone.

No music. No scent. Nothing.

The front door unlocked and Vicky came in and Sabrina tried to be normal but obviously something was wrong. For her part, Vicky hadn’t noticed anything different that morning, though perhaps she’d seen fewer pigeons than usual.

Sabrina determined to go find the Prince. Find him and she’d find the others for sure. Heading out the door she noticed Vicky had picked up an item Sabrina had enquired about the night before. She took the military greatcoat off the hook and went out into the night. She was sure Attie would like it.

##### Attie

Attie had been a little discouraged to not see Stitch. there were plenty of ghouled animals about for security, and going into her own room Attie had a perfectly normal sleep and rise.

As usual, some other Nos were around, and Stitch was already at the computer clicking and clacking away. Attie tied taking to her, wishing her a productive night and passing on Fenenc’s message. Stitch didn’t respond, but this wasn’t out of the ordinary. When Stitch was focused very little could break it; in fact, the only reason Attie had broken it yesterday was so that Stitch didn’t get in trouble.

Attle ran down her mental checklist and hit upon “find better weapons” and turned to go to a certain Nos dealer she knew of when she noticed movement on the back of Stitch’s head under her hood. Stich didn’t keep ghouled animals personally, and so Attie called out to her, but still her words were ignored.

Feeling bad for violating Stitch’s space, Attie was apologizing when she pulled down her hood and saw something disappear - something that looked like a snake. But even more disturbing than the snake was where it disappeared to - - it had entered a small hole a the base of Stitch’s brain stem and appeared to have slithered into her skull. Well, almost - just the very tip of its tail poked out the back of Stitch’s neck.

This was a trap if ever Attie saw it, and yet weighing the options she chose to grab on to the snake. No sooner had she touched it than Stitch stood straight up from her chair, her entire body locked and stiff and yet still turning to look directly at Attie.

Attie almost dropped the snake but reasoned that if she held on then Stitch’s own movements might help draw it out. Now that they were eye to eye Attie realized she was looking into Stitch’s lifeless corpse. This was not her final death but she was not alive either.

Stitch took her hands and placed them on Attie’s cheek. Attie could feel a squiring and shifting and moving underneath Stitch’s skin. Stitch opened her mouth to speak and as she leaned in as if for a kiss Attie saw the head of a large viper in the place of Stitch’s mouth.

“What the fuck happened to you?!” Attie reacted as she almost involuntarily stepped back, keeping hold on the snake as she did so. And now the long snake was slipping out of Stitch and Attie kept pulling and then there was a pop as the viper head came out the back of Stitch’s skull and she tumbled like a puppet with its strings cut.

Her body shifted for a moment before turning into a pile of slithering baby vipers that went out into the corners of the warren and then

and then

And then Stitch was back again, sitting young at the computer as if nothing had happened. Attie decided to start the day again with talking to Stitch, and this time it went perfectly normal.

Stitch had made it home from Elysium with no fuss and, worn out from being around people, had gone straight to bed. She was pleased to hear Fennec asked after her and she and Attie came up with a way to keep in touch as Attie went out onto the streets of Boston. At first Attie was concerned Stitch would have her lug around a radio in a backpack and was pleased to find a much more manageable brick-sized “mobile phone” as Stitch called it.

And so she headed out in search of the Prince.

#### *The New Network*

Fennec continued talked with Lex and Liam; together they pieced together some information on a group of vampires known as the Dream Court, who were on the Path I of Ecstasy, and seemed connected to Setites. Fennec was worried about the blood in her and her new allies and as she left to go into Boston she ran into her neighbor head of the HOA and proceeded to tell her fuck off (though using many more words and threats to say it).

Fennec accused her of being a homophobic busybody that didn’t know when to leave well enough alone and that since she was neither feeding nor funding nor fucking any of the inhabitants of Fennec’s house, then she could shove it up her ass - although given the stick that as already there, she may have some trouble fitting it in, but Fennec was sure she’d manage somehow.

Fennec and Jennie and Sabrina and Attie all found Prince Howl at a rather elegant hotel downtown; the Ames was just for last night, after all.

As they each filled in the others with how their nights had gone, Fennec expressed concern that their blood had been tainted and - with each of their permission - checked for blood bonds. She said nothing about Attie’s vinculum.

While she did so, August told them of his own nightmare, which had been similar to Jennie’s in that he experienced an altered version of his Embrace. The only other person there was. Sheriff D’Amore, and he’d had a dream of something terrifyingly disturbing in an alleyway.  Fennec remarked that whatever it was seemed to be targeting them somehow specifically.

It was also evident from the stories both Howl and D’Amore were together. Attie wouldn’t judge (though Fennec’s neighbor more than likely would had she known.)

They almost all of them had problems. No one was blood bonded unexpectedly, but Fennec sensed something off or untrustworthy with their blood. She and Jennie and Sabrina (and August) had all consumed blood in their dreams or trances and D’Amore couldn’t be sure of himself. It seemed only Attie had escaped the contagion, and she thought again of the snake and shuddered. She’d been so focused on ticking things off her list that she hadn’t done a thing before seeing Stitch.

At Prince Howl’s request, Fennec cast Quietus on the bathroom as first D’Amore then the Prince then Sabrina then Jennie got rid of their blood pool. Fennec also took care of herself, with many remarks about how one could just hold her over the tub and  bleed her out.

That taken care of, they began tot all about why all of this was happening, and why she was having a harder time of it than the others. She’d had to use her blood magic to even have a chance against the thing while the others, relatively speaking, just got a nickel horror show.

They bounced theories back and forth and then Attie said “maybe it’s more personal” to which Fennec replied “What I pissed off a camp counselor or something?” Apparently she was expecting more of a reaction but when the others just looked awkwardly at her she said “I’m just saying words at you, aren’t i? . . . Where exactly were you fourteen years ago?”

Doing some mental math Attie and Sabrina simultaneously concluded they were both in Southeast Asia answering Uncle Sam’s call in their own particular way. Jennie was in Chicago.

“Oh. So you really don’t know,” Fennec said before she recounted her own path towards Embrace - how she had survived a mass under at a camp and then a few months later another attack at a graduation party (the party was held by her sister’s friends; her sister hadn’t survived the serial killer.) She’d seen things in those attacks, which led Prince August Howl to pass a Right of Progeny on her. Better to have her tuned than simply killed. She was a survivor, and her skills could - would - be useful. It happened in an alleyway and though she hadn’t known what was happening at the time even then she knew it was wrong. Something was off. And now she woke up each night - except for last night - reliving that excruciating experience.

It was as she relayed this final piece of information that Fennec remembered something she’d forgotten: namely, that the one known as the Sleeping Lord had been cursed by the Fera - those supernatural, non-werewolf Shifting Breeds.

At the mention of shifting, Attie wondered aloud if they should contact their newfound acquaintances. When Prince Howl raised both eyebrows, Attie said “networking is important” and Fennec agreed.

Fennec had already memorized one of their numbers and while Prince Howl worked with Jennie to establish that night’s Elysium, Fennec and Attie called up one Cillian O'Rourke and arranged a meeting at a nearby pub to see how they might mutually benefit each other.

### **Session Six**

#### Pub

The four of them went out onto the street of Boston; Attie took advantage of the season to go without a mask. There were just a few more days to enjoy this relative freedom and then it would be a whole other year of carefully watching her own movements to ensure the Masquerade wasn’t breached - on her account, at least.

They entered the pub and saw Cillian - along with two others Attie vaguely remembered from the night before - at a back table; he waved them over and Fennec cast Quietus around them.

Settling in, Attie realized Cillian as the werewolf Fennec has spent most of her time wrestling with previously; she decided to let her do the talking as she already had rapport with Cillian. She and Attie made it clear that this meeting was to lay out the facts that had been uncovered and see if they might come to some kind of alliance of convenience - at least until November 1. The information that would be relayed was being freely given.

And then Fennec laid it out as quickly, simply, and clearly as possible. When she reached the part about Setite involvement and the Sleeping Lord’s history with the Fera, Attie noticed a dark, quiet anger cross Cillian’s face. It was an anger directed at the subject of their conversation and not at anyone at the table.

Cillian took that opportunity to relay the history of the Sleeping Lord from their own perspective. He was a figure from a ghost story, a kind of bogeyman parents used to keep their children in line. But in every ghost story was a kernel of truth, and some of them had never forgotten that the Sleeping Lord was a real evil that had fed on the Fera (which he explained just for clarity were those shifting breeds that were not Garu/Werewolves) to such an extent that their numbers were drastically depleted so as to put some of them into the realm of myth themselves.

Cillian asked again when the attack was coming; Attie and Fennec replied that it was 11:30 PM on October 31. Cillian aid that while he could not speak for the clan because he was not Alpha, he knew her mind and aid they could likely expect between twenty and thirty of their own to join the fight.

Again Fennec wanted to ensure the Garu that their participation would be appreciated but not expected. Fennec also wanted them to know just what they would be facing. The Sleeping Lord was a Methuselah, and the last known Methuselah to be undone had been during the Crusades, when it had taken two armes and a person of True Faith (known to history as Joan of Arc) to even have a chance of standing against them.

“Do you have an army?” Cillian asked.

“We have us, plus maybe two or three at most that aren’t here.”

“Do you have a person with True Faith?”

“We have a Gabe.”

“And you’re still going to do this?”

“If we don’t, then who?”

there was a pause

“We will meet you between 10:30 and 11:00 at the docks.”

And with that the meeting was over and they rose to leave. Both Fennec and Attie thanked Cillian as well as his two companions, who had clearly been sent along to even the odds in case it was a trap of some kind. Attie hoped their open honesty would help improve relations in the city.

#### Angel and Devil

As they departed, they discussed their next steps. Attie thought they needed more information but knew the Nosferatu’s information on the subject was limited and wouldn’t give them anything new. Fennec agreed and said that Attie’s thoughts meshed with her own: she wanted to find out why Jennie’s clanmates had skipped Court - she felt they knew more of what was going on and that by finding them the would get more answers to both their questions.

Gaining access to the Chantry would be difficult for Fennec, though. Jennie could get inside because it’s technically where she lived (for the time being) and if that weren’t enough, she and Sabrina and Attie were all part of the Court and acting on official Court business. In this repeat they could not (or should not) be denied.

But Fennec was an Assamite and they had history with the Tremere; the would not let her in lightly. But she had an idea: asking Primogen Kane to use his status to gain her entry. All of them together could practically demand entrance to anywhere in the city.

Elysium that night was being held at a fine, upscale restaurant known as the Angel and Devil. Patting her pockets for the address, Jennie found that a black credit card had been placed in her possession. They all whistled appreciatively while also realizing the responsibility that came with it.

They arrived to find a social party in full swing. Louis D’Amore was hovering close to Prince Howl; Attie couldn’t blame him. Primogen Kane was holding a conversation and as they made their way towards him, he paused his conversation to wish them all good health - a sentiment Attie made sure to return. It dawned on Attie that in their group he likely only immediately recognized Fennec as she wasn’t wearing her mask as she was earlier. But now he seemed to recognize her voice and with two familiar voices at least he seeed just a little more open.

Fennec explained their situation and asked if he might help them - her - gain access. Primogen Kane started to offer the writing of a letter, but Fennec suggested he come with  them. The would need a certain weight, and his physical presence would go a long way, she was sure. As it related to the attempted murder of Daniel (who they’d heard was now recovering much better than expected all things considered), Primogen Kane agreed to come with them - displaying a certain kind of enthusiasm as he did so.

#### Chantry

They arrived at the Chantry, which was guarded by a human-sized gargoyle. Attie wondered about announcing themselves, but Jennie just said

“As a member of Clan Tremere and Keeper of Elysium I’m inviting you all inside” and so they entered the Chantry: Jennie, followed by Sabina, Sebastian, Fennec, and finally Attie.

Attie felt a sting in her left eye, almost like an irritating grain of sand had gotten into it, and looking around she saw others felt it, too. Of course the Chantry would be guarded by wards, but since they were here on Court business and had gained entrance from a member of Clan Tremere (who, as far as they knew, was still in good standing) this should not have happened. In fact, if could be taken as an attack against the City itself . . .

“Are we fighting our way in or are we talking our way in?” Fennec asked.

“I think we should be as copacetic as possible,” she replied and Attie thought she saw Primogen Kane smile at that.

And then there was loud shouting coming from Elijah Vasquez, who looked like he hand’t slept in days (how would that even be possible?). He was tied and pale but not, Attie noticed, visibly weakened.

Vasquez made it clear he had no time for visitors or unannounced guests, to which both Attie and Fennec stated they were here on official court business and he would either make time for them or there would be immediate consequences.

He glared at Jennie and began berating her for even letting them in the door and how dare she presume to let others inside without consultation. He was making it clear that the hierarchy of the Pyramid did not extend to her at that level.

“As Keeper I have no right to do anything but what is asked. So I have brought with me the Harpy and the Scourge, a Primogen, and a trusted agent of the Prince.”

Fennec was surprised it had taken Vasquez this long to recognize the Assamite on his doorstep, but now his ire had found a new focus. There followed a political back-and0-forth with Vasquez challenging Fennec’s right to be in the Chantry (seemingly conceding the others could stay) and  Fennec pointing out that while she was not a member of the Court, she was an agent of the Prince and therefore entitled to at least a modicum of a certain level of respect.

Vasquez claimed that Fennec, by her very clan, could never be an impartial witness and began a bigoted screed against Assamite’s use of magic when Jennie cut him off with the words

“You’re a fine one to talk; you’re using blood magic right now as we’re standing here.”

His head swiveled back to Jennie and she demanded to speak with Regent Lysandra Duvalier. Vasquez replied that she was unavailable as she was tied up with delicate matters - matters which he refused to elaborate on.

Fennec pounced on this to allege the involvement of Clan Tremere in the plot against the City; Vasquez replied that they were involved, but not in the way any of them thought.

“So why don’t you take the time to enlighten us without any more undue unpleasantness?” Attie asked.

Vasquez looked defeated. They hand’t won him over or convinced him but he also seemed to know when to cut his losses. Still bearing a condescending, belligerent attitude, Vasquez led them to one of the private archival research rooms.

It was a circular room with a circular table with exactly six chairs, enough for each one of them. The light reminded Attie of torchlight, though no visible candles or flames were visible. Fennec and Attie looked for traps both magical and mundane; they didn’t find any, though they all had the feeling they were being watched. Attie declined to sign and found a spot on the wall on which to lean. Blast this room for not having a corner.

“So you’re going to interrogate me?” Vasquez asked sardonically.

“Think of it has helping us with our inquiries,” Attie responded, to which Fennec said

“I would never describe myself as a cop, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing.”

“So fucking tell us what we don’t know,” Fennec demanded.

Vasquez finally relented. The summary of his story was this:

Some months ago an esoteric order of hermetic mages came to Boston from Cairo. They brought with them an Artifact - a Stone of the Eclipse which was said to cause a total, permanent eclipse and usher in the Long Night. This Artifact had, in fact, been stolen from a crypt guarded by a group of individuals known as the Dream Court. Strange things seemed to happen around the Artifact, which was now being guarded by the Tremere, who were also trying to research it.

“What kind of strange things?” Attie asked.

“The mages disappeared, for one. Two nights ago Regent Duvalier and I went to claim the Artifact. That’s why we did not attend Elysium. Neither the Artifact nor the Regent are here, but they are safe - two gargoyles are with her and we are working hard to remove this thing as far from us as possible.”

“So let me get this straight. A group of mages come to the city with a stolen Artifact whose theft awakened a Methuselah, and you decided not to tell the Prince, but to study it and, when things went sideways, tried to find a solution on your own. That way you could come to Court and announce both the problem and the solution and make yourself - and Clan Tremere, but mostly yourself - look like a hero for fixing a problem you yourself caused. Do I have that right?”

“Who are you to question me? You goddam bastards will pay for this,,” Vasquez said as he began to do something with his hands.

“Are you threatening four members of the Court?” Attie asked, not out of ignorance but just so it would be clear what followed would be self-defense.”

“Sounds like treason to me,” Sabrina observed.

“You shut your mouth you fucking Canary,” Vasquez practically screamed, what self control he’d had long gone. “You’ll all burn and I’ll make sure you’re first.”

That was enough for them to give up on the copacetic approach. Fennec pulled out her sword and coated it in blood as Attie crossed the room. She heard Fenned say something along the lines of “for Alamut” before watching her Strike of the True Flesh. Vasquez staggered and Fennec continued by saying something in Arabic as she hit him again.

By this point Attie had arrived and pulled out a military knife from her pocket and slammed it into his mouth. Perhaps he’d had up defenses that didn’t work against Fennec’s attack, but they certainly worked against hers. The knife slammed into him but did absolutely nothing. It was as if he’d turned momentarily into a sword swallower and remained unharmed. “Shut the fuck up,” Attie yelled at him.

Vasquez cast Lionehart on himself and drew out a long pin from somewhere on his person, pricked his finger, and splattered blood on the floor. From the droplets came a vaporous energy that formed into a ghostlike being. “I didn’t want to do this, but you left me no choice,” he said bitterly.

Jennie must have sensed something in his words. “Gargoyle incoming,” she shouted.

Sabrina used her abilities to reduce his willpower and told him to sit down. It might not have calmed him down, but he’d now avoid harming Sabrina directly, which was a plus.

Jennie was now up to Vasquez and, shaking her hands in the air, told him “you suck” as they began to glow with flame. She put a hand on is shoulder, and the fire spread quickly to his body and almost immediately turning him to ash. His summoned spirit evaporated just as a gargoyle poked its head in the room.

Vasquez had been in control of the gargoyles, and for those not in the know, gargoyles were little more than slaves to the Tremere. Now, the gargoyle’s master had been killed and it (and, presumably, the other two with Regent Duvalier) were now free - though any other Tremere could re-enslave them. All that to say, when the gargoyle came in, it was not ready to fight and, looking around, simply asked

“We good in here?”

Fennec and Jennie tried explaining what was going on, though at Jennie’s voice he shuddered just a bit as he was certain she would command him to do something at any moment. The poor man, who didn’t even know he was a vampire, said his name was Marcus.

Meanwhile, Primogen Kane and Attie discussed the many, many ways Vasquez (and perhaps Clan Tremere) had violated the Council of Thorns. This would fall under Attie’s purview to inform the Prince, and she had a certain excitement in actually performing an official duty.

Now, Lex and Liam arrived, summoned there by a ritual Fennec had cast earlier but what which Attie ha failed to see. They promoted Fennec within her order, and her first act was to take Jennie and Marcus under her protection and guidance. It was clear that, after tonight, Jennie would not have a future within Clan Tremere -even though she had done everything right.

They had to move quickly now, there were only about four or five hours to sunrise. Lex and Liam and Jennie went in search of the Tremere’s “goblet of fire” which could be used to break any blood bonds Jennie may have had. They also went through quickly looking for books and artifacts (small “a” artifacts) and other things that may help them.

Primogen Kane and Fennec’s dads would see Marcus to Prince Howl; Attie made sure to send a note along with Marcus explaining things as best she could via two quick paragraphs scratched on a piece of scrap paper. She would not be derelict in her duties.

Sabrina called up a Night Taxi with - according to Jennie and Fennec - a rather attractive driver. Fennec conceded Jennie had earned the right to sit up front this time.

As the waited for the Taxi, Jennie wondered what would happen if they just gave the thing back to the Methuselah, and while no one had an exact answer, Fennec looked thoughtful at the suggestion.

#### Dockside

The taxi took them to the docks, where their attention was drawn to the only warehouse that didn’t seem to have a party going on. Outside were to Tremere (Josh and Kevin) that were mostly easy to talk their way past, though one of them was worried about Vasquez - a topic which Jennie sidestepped neatly by saying that was one of several things they needed to see the Regent about.

Inside it looked like an antiquities warehouse, but the people there had an aura of paranoia and seemed to be cleaning house. There was a distinct sound of an industrial shredder running and the slight smell of smoke from an incinerator.

“Looks like they’re about to do a runner,” Attie observed.

Something large was being boxed up. It looked like a large block of carved obsidian. At the top, a two-foot-wide golden disk was laid into it, and inside the golden disk rested a red garnet.

They were now approached by the Regent, who seemed to have anticipated their arrival. Unlike Vasquez, she wasn’t argumentative and explained that she herself had just learned of the existence of the stone two nights ago. Now, she was doing what she could to either destroy or remove it from Boston as quickly as possible. She ahdn’t told the Prince as far as they knew, but at least she way trying to be more responsible than some of those under her.

Fennec realized the stone, regardless of what it was designed to do, was intended to be used by some certain individuals as a weapon. Sabrina was able to convince the Regent it would be beneficial to let Fennec examine it in her own way . . .

And while it looked to the others like Fennec just closed her eyes for a count of one or two, from her perspective . . .

Fennec was pulled in and the world around her faded into a watercolor background that washed away and resolved into noontime in the middle of the desert. Fennec felt the sun on her face and no indication of burning or pain. An eclipse faded the noonday sun to a blood red disk and then . . . and then Fennec felt she was not alone. Someone stood behind her.

“You called me?” Fennec heard a voice ask in many reverberating languages. Fennec recognized she was speaking to a physical manifestation of . . . whatever the Stone was intended to be.

“There are those intent on using you as a weapon, and we are trying to stop it. A person we know as the Sleeping Lord . . .

“The Usurper,” the Woman (who was clothed in rich, red silks) added.

. . . He brought about death and destruction, including his own for his killing the Children of the Moon; he tries to sway others to his side with lies and promises.”

The Woman in Red considered Fennec’s words.

“You have two options. You could starve me out, as the Esoteric Orders have been feeding me. But I do not think there is enough time. The other way . . .”

Her voice trailed off before beginning again.

“Eventually everything is devoured. I was made to protect a world of secrets and whispers . . . Do you think there is a place for me in your world?”

“I think you could be something more than you were made to be, or more than you realize. I think, if your soul were freed from its ties, you could be a harbinger, a warning, a . . . a Red Star.”

The Woman smiled and Fennec opened her eyes in the warehouse.

“We need to let her out.”

“Who?” Dulavier asked.

Fennec quickly explained what she had seen, ending with “The mages woke her; and she is the sign of the coming of Gehenna.”

“Bullshit,” Dulavier exclaimed - not in disbelief but rather a general exclamaiton of the situation in which she found herself.

“How do we free her?” Attie wondered.

“With unity and intent,” Fennec replied. “And I think we’ll need music, if you would please Sabrina. You’ve heard of the music of the spheres; I think we’ll need it on our side if we’re going to add to the score just a bit. We each have our gifts and our parts to play. Sabrina as Venus; Attie - keeper of secrets and bent to War - as Mars; Jennie with her fire as Jupiter. Regent Lysandra is here to witness - you may take your pick of Neptune and Uranus. And I am an Assamite star sorcerer; I will take the planet the Regent declines.”

Attie felt that Fennec would take Neptune, but that was just her opinion.

Sabrina gave them each a note to hold in their minds and mouths, and as Attie hummed it she focused on secrets whispered in the dark and the coming of wars both mortal and supernatural as a blade was passed around the circle they formed around the obsidian marker and Attie carefully bleed into the bowl. She matched the contribution of 10 blood from Fennec and Sabrina; Jennie came after her and she did not see what she did.

But Jennie must have also successfully played her part because as they hummed the stone cracked and rich blood-red sand spilled out and onto the ground, where it formed eddies and twisters and then . . .

A woman clad in rich red silken robes looked at them all and then at the door behind them, which now blew open revealing the setting moon lightly obscured by drifting clouds over the sea and docks. She floated quickly and gently to the end of the dock where she turned and looked back at those that had freed her. They thought they could detect a new note in their hum: the note of a new and secret sphere. She smiled and, like silk on the wind, she floated up and away and away and away . . .

The clouds around the moon shifted and now there was a flickering red star that had not been there previously. The music faded into the night sky until it could no longer be perceived and . . .

It was over.

An oppressive air none of them had noticed before its absence lifted as, somewhere in the Atlantic, the coming Methuselah lost contact with the object of his interest and turned around to go back to wherever it was he came from.  Going back to sleep - for now, at least.

“Now we have a chance,” Fennec remarked.

“Never underestimate a good bedtime story,” Sabina observed.

But now it was 20 minutes to sunrise and they needed to find someplace to hide from the coming sun. Attie was already on the phone to the Taxi (thank Stitch for the newfangled phone) and it seemed that the diver was used to driving unusual customers and he got them quickly to Vicky’s apartment where, as Sabrina quickly told her she would be responsible for four vampires tonight, and the Fennec would need the tiled bathroom, thank you very much, Attie tipped the driver generously from the cash she’d taken from Creed Moro. Fennec was casting a ritual and then went into the bathroom as the others found beds or couches or other surfaces on which to rest.

They settled in just as the sun broke over the horizon.

**This concludes the events of The Witching Hour.**