NaNoWriMo Writings

1347 words

{{Diff: 3 Str, Dex 8.9.6,10,10,1}} Ragest shrugged his shoulders and gave the kid a good shove into the street, between two parked cars. The kid stumbled, putting one hand out on the trunk of the car to balance himself. He didn’t drop the knife.

“Fuck you, man.” The kid ran at Ragest, who grabbed the knife and twisted the kid’s arm back. The kid’s body didn’t go as far as Ragest twisted, and he heard the snap of bone against bone.

The kid howled, and Ragest kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying into the parked cars, so hard and so fast that his head broke the back window, causing the alarm to go off.

Ragest walked back up Atwells Avenue, away from the screaming kid and the blaring alarm, as if he had nothing to do with either.

He found his way back to the restaurant, but no guards stood at the front. In fact, most of the places were darkened and closed. One place had a digital clock he could see the time: 3 a.m. Ragest headed back to Terry’s safe house.

Chapter Two

 

Ragest still looked like a bum and smelled like a dog. There was nothing he could do about the latter, as it was part of his Gangrel heritage. He stopped in front of the Blue Grotto restaurant, where the two thin-bloods stood at the door.

“I have an appointment,” Ragest said.

“Yeah. I heard you do.” The thin-blood who had given him the Dog moniker, stepped away from the door. Ragest pushed the darkly-tinted glass door open, stepping into a warmer building than it was outside.

A big bull of a man stopped him. “Hold up.” He held a metal-detector wand up. “Turn around.”

Ragest turned slowly as the man passed the wand over him. The metal detector caught the rivets on his jeans, so the bull had to lift up his coat to make sure that was all that set off the alarm. “Clean,” said the bull.

Another man beckoned, and Ragest followed him past the bar, into the rear of the restaurant. No one else was in the place.

At a circular blue couch casually sat a vampire, his black hair slicked back and wearing sunglasses inside. Two other men, one holding an Uzi, flanked the couch.

The vampire pulled his glasses down to look directly at Ragest. “A Kindred,” he said. “Haven’t seen one of you in a while. Camarilla?”

Ragest wished that Terry had paid attention to the politics, so he’d know what he was getting into. Ragest took the chair across from the vampire and sat down. “Yes. Before the clan left.”

“Old indeed.”

“Only in years.”

The vampire waved a hand, and a slinky woman came out from the rear bar. “Please. Take some refreshment.”

“Thanks,” Ragest said, and the woman settled herself on his lap. He didn’t drink much, not knowing if it was poisoned or tainted. He licked the wound closed as the woman sensually rose from his lap, her hand trailing across his chest as she moved.

“My best vintage,” Antony said with a smile. The girl sauntered away with a playful glance over her shoulder, back to the rear bar.

“Mmhmm. So you’re Prince?”

He laughed. “Nice of you to think so. Who told you that?”

“Rumor at the university.”

“There aren’t many Camarilla left in the city. The Sabbat is all over the place, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I only got here last night.”

“You’re lucky they didn’t hunt you out.” He stretched out his legs under the table. “Yes, they’re everywhere.”

“You’re doing nothing to stop them?”

“Why should I? They’re doing nothing to me or my family. If they hunt out the Camarilla, all the better for me. Less trash I have to deal with.”

If there was one thing Ragest hated, it was someone who didn’t follow the Traditions, at peril to everyone’s unlife. He knew in Atlanta that the politics there got so down and dirty, the Lasombra took over and the city degenerated into chaos. Humans rose up to “combat crime” while the vampires were weak. Ragest heard the stories, and that was enough to make him wary of gangs of humans.

“How long have you been here?”

“About fifty years.”

“Do you know what happened to the lick before you?”

Antony shrugged. “No idea.”

“So you just waltzed in here?”

“Had to take out the Cammies.” He leaned forward. “You still a Cammie?”

“As needed. You going to take me out?” Ragest looked at the man with the Uzi, who moved his finger to the trigger.

“Where you gonna hang out, and how long you here for?”

“By the university.”

{{Ragest: Man, Chr: 4,6,10,3,6,8 (37)  Antony: Man, Chr, Dom: 4,5,8,10,7,7,7,1 (49)}}

Antony frowned. “Not there.”

“Where do you suggest?”

“South Providence. Plenty of people there late at night. The McDonald’s is open 24 hours. Lots of people disappear from there. Shootings, stabbings, drugs, prostitutes.”

“Sounds like fun. Why isn’t anyone else there?”

“Why go there when you can stay here and get what you want?” Antony leaned back. “You interested in joining the Family?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“What do I have to do?”

“We can find something for a Kindred of your talents, I’m sure.” Again, a grin. Ragest didn’t like this vampire. He was too proud, too haughty, too fancy. Most of the Giovanni were similar, but not as bad as this. Someone needed to take this one down a few pegs.

However, Ragest knew he couldn’t do it here, in the lick’s haven, or by himself. He wondered if his old Primogen were still around. Terry couldn’t be the only Camarilla vampire in town.

Ragest looked at Antony’s manicured hands, gold cufflinks, crisp white shirt sleeves out of a thin wool suit jacket. Ragest heard a door open, and both of them looked to their left.

A woman, in a shining pink dress and white high heels, long black locks of hair cascading down her chest, barely covering the lace that stretched across her bosom. It was a spring dress.

She wrinkled her pert little nose. Ragest watched as the smile on her face disappeared when she smelled him. Her eyes passed over him, dismissing him, and the smile returned when she focused on Antony. “Are you busy, Uncle?”

“Never for you, my dear. Oh, this is one of the Camilla Kindred. Can you tell?”

“He—is he the—excuse me.” She put her hand over her nose, inhaling perfume that must have been on her wrist.

“Yes,” Antony said. “He is Gangrel. It’s not unusual for them to have some, er, animalistic features.” He grinned again. “Be patient, Ashleigh.” Antony tilted his head. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Ragest.”

“Perfect for a Gangrel. Is that your first or last name?”

“That’s my name.”

Ashleigh tittered, her hand down from her face now. Ragest gave her a sharp look, something that would normally stop a human in their tracks and apologize {{Ragest: Char, Man: 5,4,2,8,7,4. Ashleigh Char, Man, Dom: 10,10,7,9,1,7,8}}, but it didn’t do anything to Ashleigh. In fact, the gave him the glare right back {{Ashleigh Char, Man, Dom: 1,10,3,8,7,1,6. Ragest Char Man 9,9,10,6,8,9}}. He didn’t move, sit back, or give her any reaction whatsoever, as the glare just merely washed over him. Antony chuckled.

Ragest felt his namesake, his rage, the Beast, just below his throat, in the depths of his chest. He got up before he said or did anything that he would regret. He glanced at the Uzi. Though it would pepper him with holes, it wouldn’t kill him.

“South Providence,” Antony reminded him. He waved a hand. “Take what you want.”

“I’m not antitribu,” Ragest said, almost snarling.

Antony tilted his head, and again lowered the sunglasses. He looked up at Ragest over the glasses. “Of course not. Ex-Camarilla.”

Another giggle from Ashleigh followed Ragest as he went to the door.

“Oh, and make sure you move on soon,” Antony called. “I can’t protect you from the police.”

“Yeah,” Ragest said, and threw open the door, loudly tinkling the bells above it.

It was still an early night,

* * *