NaNoWriMo Writings

The building looked familiar, at least. The First Congregational Church was located at the base of Williams’ Hill. When he left, it was still new. Now he could see the banner above its doors, “Providence 3^rd District Courthouse.” The building looked like an old maiden in the middle of a modern group of buildings, gathering her shawl against the cold, wet winter.

He approached the building. He had to present himself to the Prince in the building, to make sure he wasn’t going to be in anyone’s feeding grounds, and also to make sure that no one would go after him. Not that he had a bounty on his head, but you never knew what people thought of you after you left a city.

He noticed the cameras above him. His Obfuscate powers didn’t really extend to technology. He’d have to see Feathershin to see if he could teach him that ability, now that he needed it. These cameras could see him in the dark as a moving black dot. He went around the back of the building and looked for the stone that would open to Maria’s haven.

A stone with a barely-etched, well-worn ankh symbol that could not be noticed by human eyes, was still in the back wall of building. He pressed hard, much harder than a human could, and he heard the rumble of moving stones. A hole should have opened up in front of him with stairs leading down below the hill.

Unfortunately, the cobblestones in the rear were covered by a layer of concrete. He was confused. Who would cover the Prince’s lair? Unless she had moved havens, and was located somewhere else.

He walked over to the spot where the hole was, and stomped his foot. There was a hollow sound from beneath him. He could force his way through, but it would cause a ruckus and make some security guard come see what was happening. He didn’t need that.

The clock at the top of the building said a little after midnight, still early in Kindred time. He would have to search to find some Kindred in the area, to find Maria. Maria’s typical haven was libraries. Other than the restaurants and bars that he had passed, he didn’t even know what was beyond. He doubled back, went back to the first building he noted was the modern library.

Cameras, dammit, he muttered to himself as he walked around the building. There had to be an entrance here somewhere. He looked for the same markings along the walls, the ankh etched in concrete. Nothing was there. He heard someone coming up behind him. He smelled the death on him.

“Hey, buddy, what brings you around here?”

He turned. The young man was of such thin blood that he barely smelled like a vampire. Thirteenth generation? At the very least. He looked like a typical Brujah, leather jacket, mohawk haircut, leather pants and steel-toed boots. In the cold, he didn’t even bother wearing a shirt, so would be noticeable to humans. Was he Sabbat?

Ragest looked around, his nose trying to sniff out others of the pack. No, he wasn’t Sabbat.

The vampire smiled. “You’re new in town, huh?”

“You could say that.”

The vampire nodded.

“This your hunting grounds?”

The Kindred shook his head. “Let’s get out of the sunlight, huh?” He pointed above his head, to the camera pointing at the back door. They stood outside of the frame, but if the camera moved, it would catch them. Ragest followed him as he went around to the front of the building, walking a little ways down Empire Street. He pushed open a door to a store that had floor to ceiling white curtains in the window.

Ragest paused at the door.

The young vampire said, “C’mon man. I’m not going to eat you.”

“What’s to say I won’t eat you?”

“Then that’s the chance we have to take, huh?”

Ragest entered the store, leaving the door open. The young man nodded. “Overcautious. You’re older than me.”

“Who are you?”

“Name’s Terry. You?”

“Ragest.”

Ragest waited to see if the name brought any recognition. It didn’t, at least immediately.

“Brujah?”

“Through and through. In answer to your question before, my feeding area is a little ways south of here, near PPAC. I run through the queer crowd.” He walked over to a wardrobe. “I hope that doesn’t bother you.”

What was a P-pack? Sabbat? Gay Sabbat?

Ragest tensed when Terry opened the wardrobe. Inside were two naked young boys, probably around twelve or thirteen, hands and feet bound and a leather red ball stuck in their mouths, wrapped around their face by a black leather strap. “Hungry?”

Ragest shook his head. “Had a snack downtown.”

Terry slammed shut the wardrobe. The boys whimpered in their prison. “So what brings you here?”

“Old stomping grounds. Where’s Prince Maria?”

“Who?”

“You don’t know who I’m talking about?”

Terry grinned. “Ain’t no Prince in these parts. But if you feel like groveling to someone, there’s always Antony Giovanni.”

“A Giovanni? In charge here?”

Terry shrugged. “More or less. My sire told me the Cammies are all in hiding.”

“Why? Sabbat?”

He shrugged. “No idea, to tell you the truth. I didn’t ask after that. I was more interested in getting my own shit together than worrying about the politics.” He sat down in a dusty wing-backed chair. “Take a seat.”

Behind him was a puffy chair covered in a dusty sheet. He lowered himself into it, gripping the arms to make sure he didn’t fall into it.

“This your haven?”

“You kidding? Just a safe house with some fine wine in the cabinet.”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Whaddaya mean?”

“The Giovanni have the Sabbat under their control—“

“Oh, no, buddy, that’s not how things go around here.” Terry sighed. “Look, I don’t know or care about who runs the place. Just so long as I can get my dinner without worrying about whether some Sabbat or Cammie will stab me in the back while I’m eating in the alleyway behind the men’s spa. You dig?”

“Then who do I—“

“Nobody. Giovanni. Who the fuck knows? The Traditions don’t matter here.”

Ragest rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “So you don’t know Maria?”

“Nope. Who was she?”

“She was the Prince when I left. It’s only been about four hundred years,”

Terry’s eyes widened. “Whoa, man, really? And I thought I was old! When were you here, in the 1800’s?”

“I left in 1802. More than half these buildings didn’t exist.”

“Man, you’re out of step.”

“Can you bring me to the Giovanni?”

“Nope. I don’t go up to the Hill unless someone’s starting shit in my spa.”

“The Hill?”

“Federal Hill. Look, I’ll take you to the beginning of the place, but you’ll have to find Antony on your own.”

Ragest rose, a predator ready for a fight. “Take me there.”

#

Terry patted Ragest comradely on the back as they stood under a pineapple-decorated archway.

“You can sleep in the spa today if you need it,” Terry said. “I’ll tell Malcolm to give you the last coffin on the left.”

“Appreciate it. Where’s your spa?”

“Across from The Dark Lady, right next to the garage. Third floor. Tell Malcolm I sent you.”

Ragest nodded once. “Thanks.”

“No problem, buddy. And good luck.”

Ragest watched as Terry sped down Atwells Avenue, heading back toward downtown. Ragest turned back to the hill.

He would have sighed, had he the breath to do so. More restaurants and bars, but this was all Italian-named stores and food places. Expensive and new cars were parked on both sides of the street. He didn’t know where to start.

Ragest walked slowly, making sure he was noticed. He looked and smelled like a bum that didn’t belong in the fancy section of town here. He stopped to look in one of the windows of a restaurant. The place was empty.