Chapter Text
Wednesday, October 27th, 2004
Santa Monica, California
7:26 P. M.
". . .I have to admit, I didn't actually expect you to still be waiting here tonight."
The cabbie from the other evening grinned at her from behind his sunglasses. "I told you that I would be here whenever you needed me," he reminded her, voice prickling the hairs on the back of her neck. "And you said something about a nice fat fare, so. . .where to?"
"Venture Tower?" Alice said, holding her hands behind her back to stop her fidgets. Take it easy, Alice. He may give you the shivers for some unexplained reason, but he's not a danger. Not yet, anyway. And you do need transportation. "I'm not exactly sure of the address, but it's downtown."
The cabbie chuckled. "I think I can find the tallest tower in the city. Hop in."
Alice did so, opening the back door and sliding to the far side of the seat. Cheshire settled in beside her, putting his head on her lap. "Daring to take a drive with the walking stick?" he asked, tail twitching as he glanced over at the cabbie from under his eyelids.
I'm not going to get downtown before sunrise on my own – if only because whoever made my particular clan didn't see fit to bless us with super-speed, Alice thought, allowing herself a moment of grumpiness as they pulled away from the curb. And his was the first cab I saw today. She squinted at the cabbie as he navigated the streets with well-practiced smoothness. Possibly because he managed to drive all the others away by being slightly unnerving, but. . .
"Mmm – I suppose you must do what you must do," Cheshire commented, kneading her leg with his paws. "And speaking of things you must do, I hope you know what to expect when you reach the fabled tower."
I think I do – more work, for one thing. Alice sighed, leaning against the window and watching the lights of the city flash by as they moved toward the highway. Tung told me the bastard would likely have another task for me, after all. I just hope it's not more warehouse demolition. Taking out just the one was enough for me.
"I don't know – you seemed pretty good at it," Hatter said, grinning.
I'm also good at shoving people in front of trains, but I'd prefer not to make a habit out of that either. She drummed her fingers on the door, next to the window. Beyond playing dogsbody, though. . .I really don't know. It's so quiet in Santa Monica – which is nice, but makes me feel rather ill-equipped with dealing with the hustle and bustle of Downtown. At the very least, I know for a fact that I'm going to have to put up with more than just a small cadre of Thin-Bloods and four "proper" vampires. She squirmed in her seat. I still don't feel like I'm properly knowledgeable about what it means to be "Kindred," even with Tung giving me a breakdown of the various clans and clubs and such. It's just so much to keep track of. I hope I don't make a fool of myself. Or worse, give LaCroix a reason to have me beheaded on the spot.
"Other than the one already running around?" Carpenter asked, tapping the side of his prodigious nose.
Alice winced. Yes, exactly – poor Van Dort! I – no, I can't say I wouldn't have done it if I'd known the true power of my blood. I couldn't have just left him there to die. But at least I would have actually answered his questions, instead of hitting him with an illusion of his bed. Stayed by his side – maybe pretended he was my boyfriend, at least long enough to get him out of the hospital. Done – done something so he wasn't all alone in the city with a craving he can't satisfy and just enough knowledge of what happened to get himself in trouble. She rubbed her face. Why is it that I'm so skilled at things like murder and thievery, but when it comes to doing something good, I muck it up so admirably?
"Now now – self-pity shall get you nowhere," Caterpillar warned, peering down at her from atop her head. "You did the right thing in saving him, even if your methods were not the best. No one in this world is blessed with perfection, after all. And things may not be as dire as you fear – perhaps he recalls nothing of the incident except a miraculous recovery, in which case neither you nor he have anything to fear from the Sheriff's blade. And if he does. . .well. I do believe that laptop bought you Tung's silence along with his assistance."
I hope so. I'd feel awful if I saved that poor man, only to condemn him to the chop barely a week later. She shook her head. Best not to think about it until I know one way or the other, I guess. Any of you have any distracting advice for me?
"Keep your belly full and your tongue – and knife – sharp," the Queen of Hearts said, studying what would have been nails on anyone else. "Particularly the former."
I've no desire to starve, trust me. Annoying enough that the thirst never seems to fully leave. . . Alice sighed. Anyone else?
"Practicalate your actoring!" Carpenter declared, throwing his arms wide. "All the world is a stage, after all, and you are so often called upon to perform!"
Mmm, true. I'll definitely have to put on a good show for LaCroix at least. She pulled a face. Wonder what else he has waiting for me.
"Many tasks, all designed to keep you out of sight – and perhaps out of luck," Cheshire said, raising his tail into a trembling question mark. "But then, most in the City of Angels are looking for someone to do their devil's work."
Right – well, if they're willing to pay me, then I may be willing to give them my idle hands, Alice said, giving him a friendly skritch behind the ears.
Cheshire purred against her fingers. "An eminently practical way of looking at things – but I would advise you do a couple out of the goodness of your heart. Not all rewards are material, after all. Though a few are." He looked up at her. "Especially those from the wizard king, if you keep his favor. And he keeps yours."
Alice arched an eyebrow. Wizard king? Am I heading off to Oz now too?
"Oh no – he's most assuredly not a wonderful wizard," Cheshire told her, chuckling. "Especially when it comes to poetry."
Ooooh, right, Strauss. I'd forgotten about his little invitation with everything else that's been happening. She shrugged. I'll check in with him after meeting with LaCroix. I am curious as to why he's curious about me.
"You are a most curious person," Cheshire replied. "In many, many respects."
. . .Coming from you, I can't tell if that's an insult or a compliment. Alice sighed, glancing out the window at the traffic around them. Though, speaking of curiosity. . . "How long does a trip like this usually take?" she asked the cabbie.
"On a night like this? Perhaps an hour or so," he told her, glancing at her in the rear view mirror. "In a hurry?"
"Not right at the moment – just good to know for time-budgeting purposes." Namely, when to return to my hovel so I'm not ashes on the seat.
"Ah yes." He flashed her another little grin. "I'll have you there before daybreak, I promise you that."
"Much appreciated."
The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, broken only by the person next to them getting cut off by a motorcycle weaving through traffic and demonstrating just how many "fucks" one person could shove into a sentence. Eventually, they left the highway behind and moved onto the main city streets. The cabbie frowned as he navigated the traffic, then pulled up to the curb next to a pair of heavily-graffitied boxy brick buildings, level with the shadowy alley between them. "This is as close as I can get," he told her. "Can't work my way to my usual spot." He pointed to the tower breaching the sky above them. "But if you cut around this building and walk perhaps a block, you'll find the place. It's very hard to miss."
"You can say that again," Alice agreed, staring up at the spire piercing the night. "Well, thank you. How much do I owe you?"
The cabbie fiddled with his console, stopping the meter. "$45.50," he informed her.
"Ooof – I will definitely need to take on a 'material rewards' job or two in the near future," Alice muttered, pulling out her wallet and extracting a few bills. "All right, here's $52 – keep the change."
"Thank you," the cabbie said, plucking the money from her palm. "Farewell, then – until the next trip."
"Until then."
With that, Alice got out of the cab, watching it go with a vague sense of relief. "Bloody hell – what is it about him that makes every interaction with him feel – off?" she mumbled, then shook herself. "No sense in worrying about it. He got me here in one piece, so I really shouldn't–"
Leader shrieked, clutching her bear to her chest and pointing wildly with her free hand. "Behind you!"
Alice whirled – but it was already too late. A rough hand tipped in thick, sharp claws wrapped around her arm and yanked her into the alley. "Fuck off!" she yelled, introducing her foot to her captor's shin. He yelped, but kept his grip –
And then a baseball bat came sailing out of the shadows and smashed into her head. For a moment, the world spun and wobbled dangerously –
And then, everything went black.
"Let's drain it."
"Let's stake it and leave it out for the sunrise."
"We're going to have a lot of fun with this one."
Well, fuck, was the first coherent thought Alice could put together. Her skull felt like someone had yanked it out of her scalp, smashed it on the ground, glued all the pieces together as haphazardly as possible, then rammed it back into her flesh. She cautiously cracked open her eyes to see three figures standing over her, poorly lit by the light of the moon and a sputtering streetlamp. "Think you could blow up our warehouse and get away with it?" one snapped at her in a voice as rough as sandpaper. "Huh, lick?"
The fellow next to him (Alice was reasonably certain it was all hims, at any rate) snorted. "Let's pull out its tongue and its eyes and its teeth!" he suggested in raspy tones, flexing the claws that had dragged her into this mess in the first place.
"Yeah," a smoother voice said, its owner crouching down in front of her. "I want its teeth." He put a foot on Alice's chest, pressing her down into the cracking concrete. "Camarilla fuck – what do you say to that?"
Alice squinted at him. ". . .are you wearing glitter?"
Judging by the startled blinking, that wasn't what her captor had been expecting. ". . .yes?" he admitted, suddenly defensive. "What of it?"
"It's just not the usual look for you lot, is it?" Alice continued, her tongue happily running ahead of her brain, White-Rabbit-style. "I mean, no offense, I'm happy you put enough stock into taking care of your appearance to actually bathe, let alone apply makeup, but. . ." She looked him up and down as best she could from her current vantage point. "Loads of hair gel and a bright pink suit don't exactly inspire terror."
The clawed fellow snickered. "She may be a Cammy fuck, but she's got you there, Habits."
"None of you fucking appreciate fashion," Habits replied, sticking his nose in the air.
"Toreadors," the sandpaper-voiced one – now that her head wasn't throbbing quite so much, Alice could see he was a big fellow, with a face like an old tire framed by dreadlocks – muttered, before focusing back on her. "Don't think that smart mouth of yours will help you, Camarilla. I think my boys and I could use a little entertainment." He turned to an invisible audience over his shoulder, smirking as he curled stumpy fingers. "Those of you sitting in the first few rows will get wet."
Shit – all right, Alice, think, she told herself as Sandpaper turned back toward her, baring his fangs. Above her, Claws and Habits smirked, preparing themselves for the show. Going invisible obviously isn't an option, and Auspex is less than useless here – which means I've got to get my head focused enough to unleash Wonderland on this lot before they unleash on me. She dug her nails into the sidewalk, pushing past the pain in her skull to focus her blood as best as she was able. Come on, come on. . .
BANG!
Sandpaper jerked to the side, thick red vitae spraying from a sudden hole in his temple (and, of course, splattering all over her jeans, God fucking damn it). "Son of a bitch!" he snarled, clutching the wound as Habits jerked backward, taking his foot off Alice's chest. "Who the fuck–"
"Rodriguez!" Claws shouted, pointing.
Alice managed to crane her neck a little. Sure enough, at the end of the sidewalk stood one Nines Rodriguez, pointing a gun at the three that looked to be of a rather heavier caliber than her peashooter. He jerked his head to the side, glaring down the trio. "Leave."
Sandpaper glared right back. "There's three of us, Rodriguez," he pointed out, jerking his thumbs at his two friends.
"Yeah," Claws agreed, sniggering (what a gift to find everything so hilarious). "Three of us."
"What are you going to do?" Habits asked, posturing so his glitter sparkled under the lamplight.
Nines's response was to pull up the hem of his blue button-up. Tucked against his hip was – is that a bloody grenade?! Alice thought, turning herself over to get a better look. How the hell did he get his hands on one of those?!
"I suspect he visits different markets than you do," Cheshire commented, nudging her side with his head. "His Trips have better stock."
They must – yikes.
Habits, for his part, instantly deflated upon seeing the pineapple, moving back a few steps. Claws followed his lead, shoulders hunched. Sandpaper huffed. "This ain't over," he promised, before shooting a snarl at Alice. "We'll find you later. You too, Rodriguez. You're both dead! Nobody messes with the Sabbat and lives!"
"Right," Nines said in an almost-bored tone. He gestured with the gun. "Keep moving."
Sandpaper grumbled, but motioned for the others to head off into the darkness, loping after them with a sneer. Nines watched them go, then approached Alice, shaking his head. "Trouble sure seems to like you."
"And don't think I like it in return," Alice replied, getting herself up onto her hands and knees with a wince. "I–"
The sound of running footsteps interrupted her, and just like that Sandpaper was back again, fingers reaching for Nines's throat. Nines casually spun to the side and jammed the barrel of his gun underneath the other vampire's chin, making him freeze. "Good effort," he said coolly. "Execution needs a little work."
BANG! This time, the bullet tore right through Sandpaper's head, leaving a very large and gruesome hole in its wake out the back of his skull. Sandpaper swayed for a moment, then fell, dissolving into ash before he hit the pavement. Nines glanced up at his buddies, watching the scene from just beyond the reach of the streetlamp. "Yes?"
Claws and Habits instantly turned and ran, clearly not interested in seeing what the gun could do to them. Nines rolled his eyes, then turned back to Alice. "Anyway – name's Nines," he said, offering her a hand. "You look like shit."
"It's my new beauty regime – taking a bat to the noggin after an hour's ride in a cab," Alice retorted, accepting the hand before steadying herself against the lamppost. "Thank you for the assistance, though." She rubbed her head, wincing as her fingers brushed a nasty bruise. "Nines, hmm? What happened to One through Eight?"
"Ha ha," Nines replied, deadpan. "Kindred life ain't easy is all I'll say. And you should have been more careful, newbie. This ain't the 'burbs."
"As has become entirely obvious," Alice said, looking around. The shells of old cars and rusty barrels lay in piles around her, surrounded by a brick fence topped with barbed wire. "Though I confess to a lack of knowledge as to where we are specifically."
"Mitsoda's Junk Heap," Nines supplied. "Guess those shovelheads thought they wouldn't get interrupted over here. Just so you know, they talk a big game, but they scare easy. Next time, just try to rip off an ear or something."
"You did rather more than just rip off an ear," Alice felt compelled to point out.
"Some of them don't learn until you pull out the big guns," Nines replied, holding up his piece for emphasis before glancing around. "Look, kid, I've got things to deal with. Why don't you pay me a visit at The Last Round later tonight? I don't know what you've heard so far, but it's time you heard the real story."
"I'm fine with that – I do like stories," Alice said with a little smirk. "And I'm always keen to learn more about how this whole 'vampire' thing works. I'll do my best to meet you there."
"Good." Nines pointed at her, eyes grim. "This is a mean existence, kid. Stay out of trouble."
And with that, he was off, zipping through one of the nearby gates with that super-speed she coveted so much. "Wha – wait!" Alice yelled after him. "How do I get to The Last Round from here? Hell, how do I get back to downtown from here?! You can't save me and then just ditch me!"
"I think you'll find he has," Hatter commented, leaning on his cane. "Or don't you believe your own eyes anymore?"
"Well, considering their habit of turning my environments a little bit strange, sometimes I don't," Alice admitted, watching as various cogwheels began emerging from the dirt, turning the junkyard into one of Hatter Industries' beloved pointless machines. "But I guess I can trust them on this." She sighed, leaning her head against the lamppost – then hissing and repositioning so she wasn't leaning directly on the bruise. "What is it with people doing me a good turn, only to just run off? He seems cut from the same cloth as Jack."
"Oh, very much so," Cheshire agreed. "Though their patterns differ slightly when worn. At any rate, it will behoove you to do as he says. The more you learn, the more you know."
"And the more I can complain about nobody telling me about it earlier." Alice flicked some hair out of her eyes. "I think I'm reliant on you to help me out of this one, Rabbit. Just – please try to go at least a little slower than normal. My head still hurts like a bitch."
"Mine too," Rabbit admitted, rubbing his ears. "All right, we shan't go full speed then – but do try to keep up a decent pace. Time may be lengthening the night, but he can't make it last forever!"
"I'm well aware, trust me," Alice muttered, following as Rabbit set out for the gate at a respectable jog. "I hope I haven't lost too much time being dragged out here by the shovels."
"Not enough to make a major difference to your plans, I think," Cheshire said, padding along beside her. "Though you do still have miles to go before you sleep."
"Mmmm – first, let's see how many miles I have to go before getting back to my original destination. . ."
Fortunately, the answer was "not that many." A road ran right along the edge of the junkyard, so it was just a matter of following it and Rabbit back to the heart of civilization. After a walk that Alice was willing to guess felt longer than it actually was (mostly because the throb in her skull took a while to dim), and a brief squeeze through a tunnel that was half-blocked by some sort of giant shipping container for some reason, she found herself back on the streets of L.A. proper, right next to a hospital that had either seen better days or was paying off a lot of inspectors. Across the street, some truly gigantic buildings loomed over her – one ringed with an iron fence boasting over a dozen grotesques glowering at the citizenry from atop stone pillars; the other, when Alice neared, sporting weirdly-elongated humanoid statues that looked at least vaguely African in origin. Around her, the sidewalks stretched out in an endless maze of humanity, the throng moving between bars, nightclubs, hotels, apartments, and other such hangouts, and not giving her any more attention than the occasional curious glance. "And so we return," Alice murmured, rocking on her heels. "But to where, exactly? I mean, I'm supposed to be meeting with LaCroix. . ."
"He has more patience than you might think," Caterpillar told her, resting on her ear and tickling her with his legs. "He may not act like it, but he would not actually mind you fulfilling other obligations before his. Especially if he could grill you on them later."
"I see – well, fine by me," Alice declared. "I want to put off seeing the bastard as long as humanly possible. Or vampirically possible, I guess, in my particular case." She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her other ear. "I guess it's off to The Last Round, then? If I can find the bloody place, of course. . ."
"Its location is only unknown to you, not to others," Cheshire commented, making his way to a little bus shelter situated on the corner opposite. "Taxis aren't the only mode of transportation available in this city, and those who partake must know where to go."
"Aha – yes, our favorite, the lovely bus map," Alice said, following him. "All right then, let's see what information it provides tonight. . ." She squinted at the blocky representation of this chunk of the city. "Okay, so, The Last Round is – building number nine. Good to know I'm on the right side of the city, at least. . .but goodness me, it's down pretty far in the side streets, isn't it?"
"It's hiding from the Tower," Leader said, as Scribbles marked that building with a big purple X. "Hide and seek is harder when you can't move."
"I bet it is, but – oho, I was thinking it had to be one of these two! After what the Cabbie said about Venture being the tallest in the city. . ." Alice looked up at the tower fronted by the slender men, craning her head to try and catch a glimpse of its peak. "So this is where LaCroix spends his nights. Who wants to make the 'compensating for something' joke?"
"Let's be fair – we don't know if he built the building," Hatter said – then smirked. "But if he did – he is compensating extremely."
"Oh, definitely." Alice flipped the building the bird to relieve her feelings toward its highest-ranked occupant, then deliberately turned and headed back across the street to the hospital. "And he can wait until Nines tells me his story. I'd rather keep a promise to a man who has more or less saved my life twice now than to the dickhead who was all too ready to end it in a moment."
"Even if that same man left you high and dry in a junkyard of broken dreams?" Carpenter asked, tapping his hammer against the nail in his ankle.
"Well, you and Walrus once tried to strand me in a graveyard full of angry ghosts and Ice Snarks while trying to hide your realm from the Infernal Train," Alice retorted, weaving her way around a poorly-parked VW bus that had jumped the curb. "And I still talk to you."
"I have apologated for that!"
"Hence why I still talk to you." Alice paused as she reached a crosswalk and took stock. "Okay, so – according to the map, this should be the Hallowbrook Hotel – or maybe it was, it looks like it's been closed for a while. And then down there we have what looks like another abandoned house, and over there is – is – a downright Gothic building with a glowing purple spotlight on the front of it." She glanced suspiciously at the Insane Children. "Is that you, or is everyone privy to that weirdness?"
"Not us – it's the mystical sun!" Leader informed her, holding up her teddy bear for emphasis.
"The mystical – oh!" Alice regarded the building with renewed interest. "So that's what our poor poet meant. . .well, if it's on the way, I may as well drop in and see if he talks in verse as well as writes in it." She waited for the light, checked for traffic (she'd seen how some people around here drove, after all), then jogged across the crosswalk and up to the great green doors to knock. "Hello?"
There was no verbal response – but one of the doors creaked open, just wide enough to let her slip inside. "Hmm – enter freely, and of my own will?" Alice inquired of it. "Well, I am expected, and a bit more prepared for vampiric nonsense than a solicitor who has no stomach for paprika on chicken, so. . ." She held her head up and strode in, closing the door behind her.
Beyond the door was an entrance hall, wallpapered in white-and-black-stripes and flanked on the right side by a large red staircase – probably leading to Strauss's living quarters, Alice presumed. Better not get too personal too quickly. . . She instead headed straight, through the large archway at the other end of the hall. "Excuse me? Regent Strauss? Are you in?"
Still no response – just a change to red wallpaper with lighter red flowers curling upon it, and another, longer hallway that branched off both right and left. "He did say you have to find him," Drillhead reminded her, spinning said drill with a giggle.
"Hide and seek, then? I guess it's not the stupidest task I've had to perform yet," Alice murmured. She considered her options, then went right, following the plush rug underneath around the corner, past a couple of doors (she knocked on one – silence yet again) – around another corner, and another, and – "What?"
Alice blinked as she found herself back where she'd started, staring out into the entrance hall. "Wait – I could have sworn I turned right just now," she mumbled, turning around and squinting at the path she'd taken suspiciously. "I would have had to go left twice to end up back here – right?"
"No, left," Hatter said, rolling his eyes. "You just said so."
"I know what I – oh, don't talk to me, you'll just confuse me more. But I didn't see any other places to turn, either. . ." She tried retracing her path, dragging her fingers along the wall to guide herself. "Okay, right. . .left. . .right again. . .right again. . .and – damn!"
Alice scowled at the entrance hall. "All right, who's playing games?" she demanded, folding her arms. "Is it you lot? Making a maze that has no actual end seems like something the Queen would do."
"Oh, I'm flattered," the Queen purred, pressing a tentacle against her chest. "A true shame I can't claim credit for this."
"It's not you, and it's not us – which is a fancy way of saying it's not you again," Cheshire said, appearing beside her with a smirk. "The Tremere do like to keep their secrets secret. But you are expected, and every path leads somewhere."
"I would hope, anyway." Alice sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Okay. We've at least determined that right isn't, well, right. So where does left take me. . ."
Left, happily, proved to have more options right off the bat, turning into a straight hallway with a couple of doors, and two branches leading off it further left. Alice tried the door next to her, and found it opened onto an ordinary storage cupboard, with a vacuum and broom. "So no chance of skipping all this by escaping to Narnia – yes, I know that was a wardrobe," she added before Carpenter could do more than inhale. "But let me have this." She left him to pout as she studied her options vis-a-vis the hallways. "Fifty-fifty shot of getting it right, but I'd like better odds than that. Anyone want to be cryptic at me?"
"You should always go to the end before you stop," Caterpillar offered up, winging his way to the furthest turning.
"Good enough for me." Alice followed him to the end of the hall, ignoring the first branch and taking the second –
Straight into a cloud of hovering sparkles. Alice paused, blinking. "Uh – are Tremere fond of glitter traps too?"
"I can't speak for the whole clan, but I doubt this one is," Cheshire said, pawing at a shimmering speck as it faded into the carpet. "Though perhaps anyone who hides his headquarters behind such a trick is fond of shiny things. More fond of a curious mind, though – but not too curious. There are some things that will forever be a mystery to you, much as that might chafe."
"No worries – I'm used to being utterly confused by the world around me at this point." Alice wiped the last of the sparkles out of her eyes and focused on the fancy double doors that had appeared before her, inlaid with two semi-circles of thick patterned glass that seemed to form a moon shape across the central crack. "Right now, I'm just hoping this here is my stop." She stepped forward and knocked, mentally preparing herself for anything. "Hello?"
"You may come in," a calm, cultured voice replied from the other side. Alice did so, pushing open the doors to reveal a rather nice study, with bookshelves along each side wall stretching straight to the ceiling, an ornate marble fireplace crackling merrily away opposite her (Alice resisted the urge to glare at it), a large plush rug underfoot, and two slightly-less-plush-looking couches facing each other over a coffee table set between them. Lingering by the fireplace was a bald black man, dressed in a fine long red coat and matching red glasses. Alice squinted at him. Looks vaguely familiar. . .one of the people at my near-miss execution? Yes, I think he was up in the balcony. . .which I suppose gives him the best chance of being – "Regent Strauss?" she inquired.
The man inclined his head politely. "Greetings, neonate," he said, approaching her. "Might I assume you received my invitation? I have been looking forward to meeting you for quite some time."
"Hmmm – he smells of blood, magic, and betrayal," the Queen of Hearts muttered, leaning in for a good sniff. "A true king, I think, though currently his throne is – wanting."
Interesting – I shouldn't upset him then. I'll have to remember to curtsy if I need a moment to think. "I did get your invitation, and it certainly made me curious to meet you," Alice said with a nod back. "I didn't quite understand your poem – you mentioned sensing power, but – well. I have no frame of reference for how powerful I 'ought' to be."
"You were rather unceremoniously brought into our world, weren't you?" Strauss replied, smiling slightly. "But trust me – you have potential beyond that which I usually see in fledglings. Especially for the childe of Fish – a childe of Malkav." He regarded her curiously, orange-tinted eyes peeking over his glasses. "Do dark visions cloud your sight, young one? Shattered reflections of your clan father's mind?"
"Ah – unless Malkav was a fan of Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, I doubt he saw what I do," Alice said, letting her gaze sweep over Hatter as he perused the books, Carpenter as he warmed himself by the fire, and Cheshire as he kneaded one of the couches before curling up into a ball. "My glass may be cracked, but it's clear enough for me to make my way in the world."
"Hmmm – you are erudite, for one of your clan," Strauss commented, rubbing his chin. "But I know there is truth in your visions, neonate, whatever they may be. Pay close heed to them. Your madness allows you to glimpse the truth of this existence, to see through the shadowy veil into the world beyond."
Okay, he's rhyming less, but he's no less florid with his words than he was on his bit of pasteboard. Good thing I've got plenty of practice dealing with this sort of thing with Carpenter! "The world beyond is full of grinning cats and children drawing invisible pictures on the walls with their crayons, then," she replied with a little grin. "Anyway, I should introduce myself properly – Alice Liddell. Yes, it's my real name."
Strauss blinked, then nodded again, covering his surprise nicely. "Maximillian Strauss," he said, extending a hand. "Regent of this chantry. Welcome."
"Thank you – though, if you'll excuse my ignorance, what's a chantry?" Alice asked, shaking his hand briefly. "I've been told by some of those down in Santa Monica that you're what we call a Tremere – does it have to do with that?"
"It does – a chantry is a local gathering place for those of the Tremere clan," Strauss confirmed. "I live here, as do apprentices in our arts. As regent, I am the leader of this chantry, as well as a teacher to those studying the mysteries of our clan."
"I see – many mysteries?" Alice asked, rocking on her heels.
"Indeed – though they are reserved only for those who share our blood," Strauss said, suddenly stern. "I must ask you not to look into them any further."
"I was just making conversation," Alice said, holding up her hands. "I'm well aware that all the different clans get their own gifts – and that I'm not going to get a sniff at yours."
Strauss nodded, shoulders relaxing. "Thank you – you would be surprised at how many Kindred refuse to respect our privacy. We ask only to study in peace, to better understand our blood and what can be done with it. What we can share, we will, but some things are unique to Tremere, and can only be understood by them. As there are things unique to Malkavians, and to Brujah, and so on and so forth."
"I know," Alice murmured, thinking once again of super-speed as jealous green vines strangled the walls. "Well, you'll have to excuse me a bit of curiosity – I am rather new to all this business. And to Los Angeles in general, in fact." She tapped a foot. "Anything interesting happening in the dark city of angels that I should be aware of?"
Strauss frowned at her. "Let me give you some advice, young one," he said portentously. "Your survival in Kindred society will often depend on your ability to find out yourself what is going on around you. Remember that well."
". . .no disrespect, but does asking someone who lives in the area not count toward that very goal?" Alice couldn't help replying, raising an eyebrow.
Strauss blinked, clearly not expecting that reply. "Well. . .it's better if you observe what is around you, rather than relying on the accounts of others," he recovered after a moment.
"I haven't had the chance to observe much of anything yet – should I clarify that I only moved to Los Angeles on the fourteenth?" Alice said, holding up a finger. "And that I was staying in a pretty shitty motel in a bad area before Fish got me, doing my best to keep myself to myself while looking for a job? And that immediately after the play that would have been my execution, I was basically exiled to Santa Monica until I blew up a warehouse for Prince LaCroix? And that I got jumped by the Sabbat and dragged off to a junkyard the moment I arrived back here? And that, when that little situation was resolved, I had to hike back into the city on my own? Meaning that I've only been in Downtown proper for – maybe half an hour?"
"Ah – I confess, I had neglected to account for the fact that you have been confined to Santa Monica for the past week," Strauss allowed. "And – jumped by the Sabbat?"
"A trio of them found out I was responsible for their warehouse going sky-high," Alice explained. "They were ready to tear me to pieces, but Nines Rodriguez showed up and saved me with the judicious application of a very high-caliber personal firearm. Though he couldn't be bothered to escort me back to civilization afterward. Things to do, apparently."
"Mmm – that is typical behavior from the Anarchs, I'm sad to say," Strauss muttered. "Though I am glad you did not meet the Final Death so soon."
"Me too," Alice said, rocking on her heels again. "So – yes. I haven't had much of a chance to observe and learn on my own yet. So, if you wouldn't mind filling me in. . ."
"You should know what is going on here, yes," Strauss admitted. "And right now, the word on everyone's lips, Kindred or kine, seems to be 'epidemic.'"
"Uh-oh – the withered horsie runs among us," Leader said, smile straining her stitches.
As if I don't have enough animals to wrangle, Alice thought back, looking at Cheshire, Rabbit, Hare, Dormy, and Mock Turtle. "Epidemic? That's concerning," she said aloud. "I didn't hear anything about that back when I was still among the living, though – I assuming it started up recently, then?"
"Almost the very night of your Embrace," Strauss confirmed. "It seems that a disease of the blood and lungs has been spreading at an alarming rate through the downtown population, triggering the arrival of the CDC to investigate. Considering our particular. . .appetites. . .the local Kindred are more than concerned about these developments."
"Dirty blood probably would spell doom to a vampire," Alice agreed. "I didn't realize we could still get sick."
"Oh, no, we ourselves are unaffected – but we can still pass the disease onward," Strauss clarified. "And, of course, none of us want the doctors to examine their patients and find any signs that might point to supernatural creatures lurking behind the curtain." He shook his head, attitude that of a disappointed father. "My opinion is that the local Anarchs are responsible for these outbreaks. Their precipitous indulgence of certain passions often leads to such things. Ergo, their need for the watchful eye of the Camarilla."
Well, we know which side of the bread Strauss has put his butter on – not that we didn't before, but it's nice to have it confirmed. "I don't know enough about either sect to pass judgment," Alice said diplomatically. "But I'd like not to become a vector for whatever this plague is." She glanced at Cheshire, who gave her an encouraging nod. "Perhaps I might probe the problem of this pestilence? If no one minds?"
"Hmmm – an interesting proposition," Strauss said, regarding her with new interest. "If you succeed in finding the cause of this epidemic and putting an end to it, I will compensate you appropriately for your efforts."
"I would ask for no more or less," Alice said, smiling. Nice to have the promise of a reward already on the table for once! "I'll poke around, see what I can find. LaCroix was probably going to put me on the case anyway."
Strauss blinked yet again – he seemed to have a real problem with that with her around. "You – haven't reported your presence in the city to the Prince yet?"
"Again, jumped by the Sabbat the moment I arrived," Alice reminded him. "And I've been having trouble navigating Downtown since I got back – I only found your chantry thanks to your 'mystical sun.' I mean, obviously his tower isn't hard to spot, but figuring out the best way to it on ground level is. . ." She waggled a hand.
"I suppose for someone as new to the city as you, it would be difficult," Strauss allowed, though there was a hint of a frown on his face. "Fortunately Venture Tower is not far – if you leave here and turn left, just follow the street past the abandoned hospital, then turn left again, and your destination will be across from you."
"Ah, thank you," Alice nodded duplicitously. "I'll go there as soon as I can – though I should mention that I'm expected at The Last Round too. Nines said I ought to meet him there after saving me and running off."
"Did he? Hmm. Perhaps you should visit him first, then, actually," Strauss murmured, stroking his chin. "With relations so strained between the Anarchs and the Camarilla at this time, having fresh blood pass between the two sides might be in our best interest. And I know LaCroix would be interested in whatever Mr. Rodriguez would have to say to you."
"I'm interested as well, so. . .happy enough to do things in either order," Alice said with a smile. As far as you know, anyway.
"Very well – if you wish to speak to the Anarchs first, both to hear Mr. Rodriguez's inevitable speech and to inquire as to the source of the plague, I will give the Prince a message letting him know to expect you later this evening," Strauss said, inclining his head. "I would not keep him waiting too long, however. He is – well. I do not wish to stay too much."
"Silence often speaks much louder than words," Caterpillar agreed.
"It's fine – I know what he's like already, and that I am at his mercy," Alice told Strauss. "I won't leave him until the last minute, I assure you. I appreciate you sending word ahead." Even as I wonder what price you'll extract for it later. . .though hopefully investigating this plague counts as a pretty big favor on my part! But then again, I'd do that for free – it's bad enough that I have to drink people's blood on the regular, I don't want to make them anemic and diseased! It's in everyone's best interest that the humans around here remain clean and healthy. "I'd best be on my way and get my visit to Nines over with, then. . .er, though, about your hallways. . ."
"Ah, yes – a clever trick to ensure that enemies cannot easily traverse our halls," Strauss said with a proud little smile. "As you are a guest, however – the best way to reach the front door again is to take the first hallway leading right, then turn right again and follow that path."
"Thank you – I did get a bit turned around earlier," Alice said, swirling a finger in the air for emphasis. "Hopefully I can report back to you with good news about this bloody plague – er, no pun intended – sooner rather than later."
"I certainly hope so," Strauss said. "Have a good evening, neonate."
"You as well." Alice gave him a nod, then headed back out into the hall. "Okay, so. . .through the glitter. . .then first hallway this time, before turning right. . ."
Happily, Strauss's instructions proved solid – after just a few steps and going around another bend, Alice indeed found herself back at the front foyer. "So he can be trusted that far, then," she said to herself, exiting back onto the mean streets of L.A. "But how much farther? What was Rosa's little list of friendlies again?"
"'The nasty one who smells of gas will give information,'" Leader rattled off. "'The fiery-haired volcano goddess has a kind heart. You can trust most fully the man on the couch, the lone wolf, and – oh yes. The blood-collared one who walked with death.'"
"Right – so we've already figured out that the 'man on the couch' is Mercurio, and 'the lone wolf' Beckett," Alice said, counting them on her fingers. "And 'the nasty one who smells of gas' is obvious now that I've met him – Tung, who lives in an old oil tank and was very free with his knowledge during the hike to the warehouse. 'Goddess' implies a woman, and Strauss has no hair at all, so he's definitely not that one. . .so I guess it depends on whether or not we consider him to be the 'blood-collared one?'"
"We do not," Hatter declared succinctly.
"He collars blood, more accurately – makes it bend to his will," Cheshire elaborated. "Among other things. . .his relationship is worth cultivating, but never doubt where his real loyalties lie. Perhaps not always with the ivory tower, but definitely with his red chantry."
"I will keep that in mind." Alice paused at the corner to stretch, cracking her back. "Now – any objections to me going to see Nines?"
"It would be wise not to keep him waiting," Cheshire replied, with a confirming nod from Rabbit. "Besides, a familiar face is there as well – you should renew a week-old acquaintance."
"Aha – I think I know who that is." Alice gestured in front of her. "Well, Rabbit, if you would?"
"My pleasure," Rabbit said, tipping his hat before turning and racing back across the road. Alice followed him, past the abandoned house she'd noticed before. A strange bit of graffiti caught her eye as she jogged by – a white skull upon a red squiggly star-shape. She paused a moment to squint at it, then shrug. Striking design, but damned if I know what it means. Perhaps I'll run into the artist one day and get to ask.
There was no time to ponder that possibility, however – Rabbit was in fine form once again now that her head had stopped pounding, racing down sidewalks and across streets as if he could hear the baying of the quintessential hounds. Alice followed him through the city, down streets that slowly got smaller and narrower and grimier, until finally he stopped in front of a very square and squat brick building, windows glimmering greenly in the light of the streetlamps. The sign above the door did indeed proclaim it "The Last Round." "The question being, of what," Alice murmured, studying.
"Only one way to find out," Hatter declared, rapping on the door with his cane. "Time to hammer away, Miss Shark!"
"Encouraging my tool-like tendencies? Not sure whether that's worrying sign or not. . ." Alice paused a moment, then shrugged. "On the other hand, can't stand out here all night either. Would drive poor Rabbit around the bend. And I am expected, so. . ." Course set, she opened the door –
Only to be hit by a wall of the angriest music she'd ever heard, played at an almost ear-bleeding volume. She grimaced against the noise as she stepped inside. How anyone thinks in here is beyond me. . .on the other hand, it's a rather rougher establishment than the Asylum, she noted, looking between the bar with its creaky old bartender pouring beers on the left, to the rusty pinball machine and hole-ridden dart boards straight ahead, to the raised seating area on the right sporting scuffed red booths seating even more scuffed-looking patrons. Though, arguably, nicer than the Surfside Diner and its rat problem. . .though perhaps I thought too soon, given the barmaid looks like she's related to Doris. Should I ask her where Nines is, or –
"Well, if it ain't the talk of the town!"
Alice started as a black man in a tight gray v-neck over his bulging muscles appeared out of a nook beside the stairs leading to the second floor, giving her a sarcastic glare. "Poster Child for Camarilla benevolence!" he continued, waving a hand dramatically. "What does the Prince have his little bitch doin' today?"
". . .I don't know, I haven't spoken to him yet," Alice replied, folding her arms with a glare of her own. "Who asked you to be an absolute asshole to someone who only just walked in the door?"
"Hey – show some respect," the man snapped back, golden hoop earrings swaying.
"Why should I? You didn't show me any."
"Easy with Helter Skelter," Cheshire told her, tail flicking. "Loathe as I am to make comparisons using the canine race, his bark is worse than his bite."
"Helter Skelter?" Alice repeated, glancing down. "What's the meaning behind that particular nickname, pray tell?"
The man started – as well he should, Alice figured, as she had just started talking to nothing in front of him. "How'd you know my – shit, wait, right, you're Malkavian," he said, grimacing. "Fish's childe, too – surprised you can talk like a damn normal person." He shook his head and resumed his glaring. "It's actually just Skelter. And I'm the one who'll be showing your ashes to the door if you cause any problems."
"I'm not here to cause problems – or on LaCroix's behalf, since that seems to be the major bee in your bonnet," Alice said, dropping her arms in an attempt to be diplomatic. "I'm here because one Nines Rodriguez invited me. Is he in?"
"Yeah, he's upstairs – and expecting you," Skelter admitted reluctantly. "Hoping he can get you away from the Camarilla's bullshit. How about you head on up and try not to mouth off to him, hmm?"
"I make no promises – mouthing off to people is one of the things I'm best at."
"Yeah, I can back her up on that."
A familiar bearded figure approached from the far corner by the dartboard, sucking on a cigar. "Lookie who made it back in one piece!" Smilin' Jack greeted her. "How was Santa Monica, kiddo?"
"Eh – I didn't get much of a chance to see the sights," Alice said, rolling her shoulders and giving him a small smile.
"Hah! I can't imagine you did," Jack agreed with a smirk. "Probably too busy getting pushed around by every vampire with a week of seniority over you, am I right?"
"Got it in one – I had to jump through a number of unexpected hoops for the locals starting my very first evening there," Alice sighed. "I don't know how familiar you are with the Voerman sisters, but they are not a fun pair to try and please."
"I've heard a few things – namely, one has a stick up her ass, and the other her boobs fallin' out of her shirt, and both of 'em wanna kill each other," Jack confirmed. "But that's usually the way the story goes for any sort of deal with Kindred. Same old bullshit politics from when you were alive, huh? Don't it just make you wanna rip somebody's spine out?" He took a puff off his cigar. "What? You're sayin' that's just me?"
"I wouldn't go that far, but I am already rather sick of playing errand girl constantly," Alice admitted. "Especially when it gets me jumped by a trio of Sabbat bastards the moment I step foot in Downtown. If Nines hadn't swooped in on demon's wings, I'd be in much worse shape than I am now. And possibly covered in glitter."
"Yeah, he – wha?" Jack blinked a few times, as did Skelter. "Okay, guessing they had some real weird-ass Toreador with 'em. . .anyway, Nines told us about it. Showed up not a moment too soon, huh? He said you guys let those Sabbat go too."
"He let them go," Alice emphasized. "I wasn't in much of a position to dictate their movements."
"Right. . ." Jack shook his head, tsking. "Nines must be gettin' soft. How can you pass up that kind of fun?"
"Hey, we're dealing with a lot right now," Skelter said defensively. "Got it comin' from both the Sabbat and the Camarilla – and nobody trusts those fuckers over in Chinatown not to pull something sooner or later, you know that. We're stretched thin."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm just saying – good tension relief, slicing up some Sabbat."
"He did blow the head off one of them when he tried to get the drop on him," Alice said. "So it wasn't an entirely bloodless encounter." She shrugged. "I don't know his personal thoughts on the matter. I'm just glad he was kind enough to give me a hand. Though it seems strange for him to have such a personal interest in me, given we didn't even speak until after he'd rescued me."
Jack shrugged. "Well, eh, he was left sireless too, so I dunno, maybe that's it. And he's got a thing for the little guy."
"Nines believes in freedom," Skelter agreed, eyes shining with adoration for his – boss? Friend? Perhaps both? "Freedom from those who would control us. You gotta understand, Kindred – you're carrying a six-thousand-year-old curse in your blood! No matter how powerful it makes you feel, that blood is a tangle of chains that's gonna leave you bound in servitude the rest of your existence!"
Alice raised an eyebrow at him. "Is that so? How do you figure?"
"It's simple – your elders command the blood," Skelter told her, gaze even more intense than his words. "They control the blood, and the blood listens! You'll never even hear their call – but the blood will. And it'll make you obey."
A chill worked its way up Alice's spine, spider-like in its swiftness. "Ah – which elders? I've already gotten on the wrong side of LaCroix's Dominate, sure, but – the one who made me is dead, and good riddance to him."
"Hah – he's dead, but the one who made your whole clan isn't," Skelter informed her with a cold laugh. "And he's the one whose really in control. That shit stretches all the way back to Caine, man – nothing you can do. Some ancient sleepin' in a tomb half a world away has a bad dream, and you're gonna feel that shit."
"Hey, chill out a bit, Skelter," Jack told him, waving his cigar around. "She's only been one of us for, what, a week now?"
"Never too early to learn," Skelter responded, before turning back to Alice. "The point is, with this curse pullin' your strings, you really wanna sign away your right to fight by joinin' the Camarilla? The assholes willin' to bust heads over a few common sense rules? Keep the rest of us down so they can keep actin' all high and mighty all eternity?"
"You're acting as if I had any choice in the matter," Alice snapped, bristling (and trying very, very hard not to picture herself as a marionette, being manipulated by a creature that looked disturbingly like if someone had merged together the Dollmaker and Fish). "The Camarilla was the one holding the sword over my neck on that stage. It's dance to LaCroix's tune or die." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I don't really consider myself part of the Camarilla yet, if it makes you feel any better. I'm more like the hired help."
Skelter snorted. "Most sensible thing you've said yet. That's how they see you, trust me. Man, I followed someone else's rules for three years in Vietnam, but it wasn't until after the Embrace that I understood just how shit authority could be." He slammed a hand against the bar. "I choose not to submit. I'll be dust before I roll over and take that shit again!"
You seem to be taking at least a little of it, given that the Camarilla is still here after helping you and yours beat back the Kuei-jin. . . "As previously stated, I haven't a choice," Alice said instead, holding up her hands in a peace-making gesture. "Is it all right if I go up and seen Nines?"
"Yeah, go ahead!" Skelter said with feeling, waving a hand toward the stairs. "You're free to do as you please here! Go, get the story from Nines. Maybe he can get you to see the truth. The Anarchs? We're the only ticket to free livin' in the afterlife, my friend."
"I'm willing to be convinced." Alice nodded at Jack. "Good to see you again."
"Good to see you too," Jack said, going back to chomping his cigar. "And don't let Skelter get to ya. He just gets intense sometimes."
"I can see," Alice said, as Skelter frowned. "I'll be back down – er, whenever Nines is done with me."
And with no further ado, she scooted between the two men and made her way up the stairs. "Bloody hell," she muttered, shaking her head as she ascended. "What a greeting."
"Well, why would they be named 'Anarchs' if they did not display anarchy?" Carpenter commented, his wooden leg thumping against the steps. "And you're hardly the most polite person in the world. Hardly a 'how do you do' to any of these these days!"
"I know how you do – you insist on telling me regularly," Alice grumbled back. "And I somehow doubt excessive manners would help me here – in fact, I suspect they'd just make me even more of a target." She growled softly. "'Little bitch' – I was this close to turning around and walking out."
"Not a wise move," the White King cautioned, climbing his way up the banister. "You should always endeavor to go forward, not backward – unless backward is strictly necessary."
"Hence why I'm still here, and willing to give Nines a chance. He seems at least vaguely more polite than his compatriots. . ."
With said observation, she reached the top floor – well, what there was of it. Much like at the Asylum, the second story of the bar was more of a mezzanine level, overlooking the chaos below; unlike at the Asylum, this little area had a much more low-rent feel. To her right, two dinged and dented green doors declared themselves the bathrooms for "PUNKS" and "BITCHES" respectively; to her left, stained and warped floorboards supported heavily-scratched red-topped tables and equally-beat-up-chairs, scattered about willy-nilly under a ceiling yellowed from years of indoor smoking. Also to her left was a red-haired woman in a red beret that Alice vaguely recognized from the theater – she scowled as she spotted Alice, mouth so severe it threatened to cut her face in half. "Cammy," she snapped, in the same tone that Skelter had used downstairs to inform Alice she was a female of the canine persuasion. "Can't believe you actually showed up."
"Damsel," said a familiar voice – Alice turned to see Nines round the corner, coming to rest against the PUNKS door. He jerked his head at Alice, indicating for her to approach. "And I'm glad you came by," he greeted her. "Here's what I've got to tell you – and so you know, I don't lecture, I don't rap, I'm no bureaucrat. I'm just a guy out of nowhere came to be involved with something five hundred times bigger than you or me."
"Yes, I've been getting that impression myself," Alice said, rocking on her heels and trying not to think of puppeteer elders again. "What's your not-lecture, then? I've been told multiple times I should hear it."
"Simple – you got a right to know the score," Nines said, standing up straight. "The Camarilla – this is the short of it. They operate a lot like a pyramid scheme. There's a bunch of these old-timers at the top, with God only knows what plots in mind. They lose their power, they die. They sired more to carry out their plans, and – lookin' for a little power for themselves – those Kindred sired for their own schemes, and so on and on and on. . ." He huffed. "It hurts my head just thinkin' about the mess. What it works out to is this – only a few people at the top have any real power. And they are desperate to hold onto it."
"Well, someone else of my acquaintance already compared the Camarilla to the vampire government, so – yes, that rather tracks," Alice admitted. "I'd already guessed it was more akin to a classic monarchy than a democracy."
"Yeah, though it tries to pretend it's not – the Camarilla likes to claim all of us are members, even if we don't want to be," Nines said, rolling his eyes. "Which is, of course, the biggest load of horseshit a man ever heard. I learned the way of this world during the Depression. Bunch of old, rich bastards screwed the country, but did they suffer? No – the little people suffered. You can't trust the people at the top. The world'd be a better place without them."
"You shan't hear any argument from me," Alice responded, rocking back and forth again. "One of the worst people I ever met was a noted psychiatrist and philanthropist. He sold out the children in his care to the worst of the worst to keep himself in coin, all while maintaining a reputation as a wunderkind of therapy."
"Seriously? Damn," Nines said, expression disturbed. "Think that shit's below even LaCroix. . .anyway, when it comes to Kindred, all you can do is get a group of people together who aren't assholes, find a place to put your feet up, and make some examples out of the quote-unquote 'elite' to keep the rest the hell out. Everyone's an equal here, the same thing that this country used to be about. That's what L.A. has been – an Anarch Free State."
"So why is the doorman here?" Hatter asked, glaring down the stairwell in Skelter's general direction.
I'm afraid "asshole" is a subjective term. "I was previously informed that the Camarilla is a new player here, yes," Alice said aloud. "Or perhaps an old one poking their head back in the door?"
"Unfortunately – the Camarilla was kicked out on their ass a long time ago," Nines growled, folding his arms. "The Anarchs didn't want to play their politics anymore, and we made sure they knew it. Now LaCroix and his crew pop in like they never left. . ." He gritted his teeth. "Uh-uh, no goddamn way! Their laws don't apply to us!"
"Oh, you and the Prince don't go golfing on weekends?" Alice couldn't resist saying, smirking.
"Only if I'm allowed to hit him upside the head with the club," Nines replied, eyes smoldering with hate. "Don't mention me and that 'Prince' in the same sentence, Malk. LaCroix represents everything I hate – the Camarilla, stuck-up aristocrats, rich businessmen, crooked politicians. He's just the guy who wheeled and dealed and backstabbed his way into becoming King Son Of A Bitch of all the local Camarilla. Him and any of the other traitors who sided with the Cam want power here, they'll get what's due. The only place LaCroix belongs is in an urn."
Wow. And I thought I hated him. "I can't say I have many fond feelings for the man," Alice said, resisting the urge to back up a step.
"Glad to hear it, because only an idiot or an asskisser would." Nines relaxed a bit, holding up a few fingers. "Look, I'll tell you what I tell all the new blood – one, you get careless, that blood will make you into a monster. But you rampage around here, you get put down. So watch it. Two – don't kill when you feed. No reason to. In this city, there's lots of ways to slake the Beast without leaving a trail of dead. Three – the Camarilla's full of shit. Four – watch your back. Always. And lastly – learn how to fight. Because a speech ain't gonna save your ass when you're staring down the barrel of a shotgun. After picking your ass up off the pavement out there, I can tell you don't even know the basics."
Alice bristled. "Oh, no, I know the basics. I'd call on the Sabbat I had to fight my very first night of existence in this world as witnesses, but they're all very dead."
"Then how'd you get jumped so easily when you came Downtown?" Nines retorted. "No shame in admitting you still have stuff to learn." He adopted a boxing pose. "Here's a few basic pointers for the next time you're in the shit. Hold your hands up like this, and keep your body at an angle – makes you harder to hit. Keep your thumbs outta your fists, and put your weight into your punches. Don't just go flailing around all over the place – have a plan, and execute it."
"It is very good advice," Caterpillar admitted, perching on one of Nines's fists. "I know you often have a problem with following that, but perhaps try a little harder this time?"
I'm open to learning – I just don't like the implication that I can't take care of myself after a week left to fend for said self. "All right, I confess I don't have much experience in unarmed combat, so I do appreciate the tips," Alice admitted. "And you coming in to help me at the junkyard. I just would have also appreciated directions before you sped off. Couldn't you have at least told me that you're on the bus line before you left?"
Nines had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Had places to be, newbie. I can't babysit you – some things, you gotta learn the hard way."
"Yeah, Cammy – Nines doesn't have to fuckin' justify himself to you!"
Alice started as the red-haired beret girl – Damsel, apparently – suddenly got in her face, fangs bared in a snarl. "Lunatic!" she continued, making the word sound like a curse. "I'd give you a piece of my mind, seeing as how you're just another do girl for the Camarilla, rolling over and taking it right up the ass, but shit – no amount of good sense penetrates that white noise you Malks call a brain, does it?"
"This Nines has no idea what the word 'asshole' means, does he?" the Queen of Hearts hissed, jagged teeth on full display as she snarled right back at Damsel.
Not. At. All. "And who the fuck are you again?" Alice snapped, hands balling into fists.
"I'm Damsel! Den mother of these mothers!" Damsel smacked one fist into her palm. "You wanna start some shit, Ivory Tower? I'll fucking kick your ass all the way to Boston!"
"For asking why, when specifically invited to come here, Nines couldn't take two seconds to tell me where this bar was?" Alice threw her hands into the air, lest she slam them into Damsel's face using the new tips Nines had just given her. "For God's sake, what is plaguing you lot?!"
"You, Cammy! I can't believe that you'd – wait." Damsel's face cooled from fury to confusion as she blinked. "'Plaguing?' Why the hell did you put it like that?"
"Because that's just what came out of my mouth first – though, yes, there is a bit of a plague problem in the city right now, isn't there?" Alice remembered, letting her arms drop. "As I learned from Regent Strauss over in the Tremere chantry – though I had to pry it out of him, because apart from like three people nobody wants to tell the newbie anything." She huffed, then shook her head. "So yes, I'm aware of the epidemic that's sprung up out of nowhere – oh, and for the record, Strauss thinks you lot are to blame."
"That goddamn blood witch told you what?!" Damsel hissed, anger engine revving back up to full throttle. "He thinks we're responsible for the plaguebearer?! Ugh, that fucking – I know, I know, I promised you I'd keep my nose clean," she grumbled as Nines gave her a stern look. "But if it wasn't for that, I'd go over there right now and rip him a new wizard chute! Magic-missile-casting motherfucker!"
"We know," Nines said, in a tone that suggested he'd heard this particular rant many times before. He turned the look on Alice. "When the hell did you meet Strauss, though?"
"Right before coming to see you – I found the chantry before the bar, and as he'd already invited me to see him via bad poetry. . ." Alice shrugged. "And I'm glad I did – if there's disease running rampant, I want to know about it. I'm not taking his word that you're responsible," she added, holding up her hands as both Damsel's and Nines's eyes narrowed. "But I do want to get to the bottom of it as fast as possible. If only because I don't want to become a vector for whatever this malady is. You're the one who just said we shouldn't kill people while feeding, Nines – I assume that also means no slow slaughter via viruses or bacteria?"
"Yeah, it does," Nines said, relaxing a fraction. "And it definitely isn't one of us, because none of us are that stupid. Plaguebearers are idiots who don't care who they feed from, and it ruins things for all of us."
"Yeah, CDC's in town as we speak," Damsel confirmed, gnawing on her lower lip. "And if someone puts two and two together as to the real cause of an outbreak of bloodborne disease, guess what happens?"
Alice raised an eyebrow. "Would they do that addition? I know my first thought upon seeing people dying of a blood disease wouldn't be 'vampires.' It would be people sharing needles or the like – the kind of stuff that gets you HIV under other circumstances."
"Yeah, okay, probably wouldn't be their first thought, but – look, the science types among the kine are getting really worried about this, especially since it happened so quick," Damsel explained, hands flying around her face. "They're looking into how the hell it's getting transmitted a little too close for any of us to be comfortable. Can't take the risk that they figure something out. So that means – you ever see Old Yeller? The plaguebearer's gotta be put down, and fast. And if the Camarilla really gives a damn, they'll help us out instead of pointing their fucking fingers."
"Well, I'm already the 'do girl' for the Camarilla, as you put it – and, in fact, I already volunteered to look into it further when talking to Strauss," Alice told her, folding her arms. "So I can certainly 'do' for you as well – especially since my neck does owe a debt to your esteemed leader," she added, with a nod at Nines. "Do you have any leads?"
"Yeah – ghoul named Paul who does shit for us in exchange for blood," Damsel informed her. "Lives nearby in the Skyeline Apartments. Been a stranger lately, and looked like death the last time he was here. Said he didn't get bit, but. . ." She shrugged. "Maybe you can get more info out of him."
"I can try. . .anything else?"
"Talk to the homeless around here," Nines suggested. "They've been hit the hardest."
"Yeah, so many have been dying lately, it takes the city a few days to pick up the bodies," Damsel confirmed. "Probably the only fuckers who want to see the bearer die more than us. Just – get whatever info you can, and make yourself useful, okay? I don't like workin' with a Cammy, but I wanna shove those fucking words right down Wizard-Boy's throat until he chokes on 'em!"
"I'll pass the message on," Alice told her, squeezing her sleeve to relieve her feelings. "As it stands, though, I have one more meeting to get to tonight, and it's with Nines's not-golfing partner."
"Finding me rated above LaCroix? Glad to hear that, at least," Nines said, smirking. "You might be okay, in the end. Get things square between you, and then don't give him the time of day."
"You mean night – I couldn't give him the time of day if I wanted to in this state," Alice corrected him. "Not that I do. . .I promise I'll be back once I've talked to a few people, scared up a couple more solid leads for you."
"Sounds good." Nines rubbed his back against the wall, presumably taking care of an itch. "And be careful out there, kid. Don't get jumped by any more Sabbat."
"And don't strain yourself licking LaCroix's shoes," Damsel cooed.
Alice swallowed back the taste of the Rage Box on her tongue. "No intention to. Have a good night."
And, before anyone could say anything else, she turned and went down the stairs, giving Jack a nod and ignoring Skelter's look before heading straight out the door. "Fucking bitch!" she finally snarled once she was a safe distance away.
"Not according to LaCroix," Cheshire commented blandly.
"You know what I mean!" Alice threw her hands in the air. "What is everyone's problem with me?! Nines I can just about understand being a little contemptuous, he's had to save my ass twice, but – does no one comprehend that I never asked for any of this? That I have been pulled into service to the Camarilla against my will? That I am doing the best I can with practically no information?!"
"Tempers run much hotter than blood among that set," Caterpillar said, doing a loop-de-loop by her ear. "They see not you, but their hated enemies. Or a fool, judging by Damsel's comment. You carry a lot of baggage not your own, and will continue to do so, I'm afraid. The sins of your sire and his sect are hard to put down."
"I've noticed. Fucking Fish. . ." Alice shook her head, stopping at a crosswalk and waiting for the light to turn. "If I could leave this all behind here and now, I would. But I meant what I said in there – I'm willing to work with the biggest dickstains on this planet if it means not becoming even more of a threat to the mortal populace. If one vampire – if it is just one – can do this much damage spreading disease in a mere week, I don't want to see what it looks like when we're all infected."
"It's not a pretty picture," Leader said, pocketing her crayon.
"No, it is not." Alice huffed out a sigh as the little man appeared, allowing her safe passage across the street. "But it's the one I've been drawn into, so it's the one I have to work with." She ran her fingers through her hair. "And now – I've checked off the somewhat-condescending wizard man, and my savior and his group of wankers. Time to see what the Evil Overlord wants."
The walk back to Venture Tower was a quick one at this time of night, and soon Alice stood before the grand doors, flanked by the strange spindly statues she'd seen before. "Interesting taste in décor," she murmured as she headed inside. "Is the interior similarly done up?"
The answer was "no" – the lobby was much more in line with your standard office building, if on a grander scale. The floor was black marble, or at least a reasonable facsimile of such, as were the walls, and the whole thing was roughly divided in two by a concrete semi-circle with little security checkpoints on either side, sporting the name "LaCroix" in glowing blue neon in its center. And in front of that was a circular desk, painted green and manned by –
"You, uh – you look familiar, missy. We haven't met before, have we?"
Alice gawked, because she couldn't think of anything else to do. "I – er – the Gallery Noir?" she blurted without really meaning to. "You shooed me away?"
"Oh, yeah, back in Santa Monica!" Therese's former gallery night guard said with a cheerful grin. "Yeah, and a good thing I did too, considering all the paintin's were slashed to pieces not long after! They coulda hurt you if you'd been there! Miss Voerman wasn't happy at all, let me tell you. . .especially when I told her I'd gone for a little snack," he confessed, rubbing the back of his head. "Fired me on the spot – but then I got called up by this place, and now I've got this sweet night shift position! I'm happier than the time I met Sipowicz."
"Well, I – I'm glad to hear you've landed on your feet," Alice said, shaking her head as she recovered herself.
"Gee, thanks! But enough about my lucky break – you, uh, here to see one of the bigwigs, missy?"
"It's Alice, actually – and I'm here to see LaCroix," she told him, nodding at the name behind his head.
"Aha!" The guard consulted his computer. "Would that be Sebastian LaCroix of the LaCroix Foundation, or Dwayne LaCroix of Insurrection Baby Formula Company?"
". . .the former," Alice said after a second, managing with a distinct effort to bite back all of her giggles. Dwayne LaCroix. DWAYNE LACROIX. Oh, that must get up the Prince's nose every time he has a visitor. Dwayne, I hope you're making money hand-over-fist.
"Okay then! Actually, yeah, Mr. LaCroix told me to expect someone fitting your description sometime tonight," the guard said with a nod. "You go right on up – last elevator on the right, got a button straight to the penthouse."
"Thank you – that's more helpful than most people have been tonight," Alice said, giving him a quick smile.
"Aw, sorry to hear that! People should be nicer these days. . ." The guard shook his head. "Anyway, uh, you have a good power meetin' or whatever it is you types do up there. You need any security, why, you just ring the front desk and ask for Officer Chunk." He grinned, pleased as punch. "That's me, 'case you were wondering."
"What's he a chunk of?" Leader wondered, standing on tiptoe to peer over the desk.
I don't know, but he's made it pretty far as just a part of a larger whole. "Chunk?" Alice repeated in a curious tone.
"Yeah, I get that all the time," Officer Chunk admitted, grin turning a bit sheepish. "The name goes back to my football days! Uh, actually, my fantasy football days. . .at the station! The – Stationarium. That was this office supply outlet mall I used to watch." He shook a finger at invisible miscreants. "'Hey, you kids, no skating in the parking lot!' That was me."
"Well, no chance of unruly children bringing skates and boards here, I think," Alice said, looking around. "Good to meet you properly, Officer Chunk – as previously said, I'm Alice. I hope you have a good rest of your evening."
"Aw, you too, Alice!"
With that, he was back to watching his monitor, which Alice strongly suspected contained either Solitaire or a pastry menu rather than security camera footage. I am glad that he landed on his feet, she decided as she passed through the right-hand security gate and circled up and around the divider to the bank of elevators in the middle of the room. He's the most harmless cop I've met yet, and he didn't deserve to suffer for my predations against Therese's art.
"Mmm – I doubt you ever need think of him as a threat," Cheshire agreed. "Purrhaps never a true ally – law enforcement does so look down on murderers here illegally – but certainly not someone to fear."
Hey, I'm here legally – I just can't get my proper citizenship anymore on the basis of I can't go to the office in the daytime and also I'm dead. But the green card should cover me for a while, and I imagine there must be some sort of business catering to vampires looking to shore up old identities or create new ones. LaCroix mentioned a "mask" during our first meeting, after all. . .not that I'm going to bother to ask him to elaborate on that. Or anything else, for that matter. She sighed as she found the right elevator and hit the call button. Why is it that, except for Tung, getting any sort of information on anything from vampires is like beating your head against a brick wall?
"'Dracul' means 'dragon," at least according to Stoker," Cheshire replied as the door dinged open. "And many of the Count's kin have taken that to heart and built hoards of knowledge. And like any dragon worth its teeth and claws, they are loathe to share. You are lucky that the Nosferatu have much less tolerance for ignorance than the other clans – though you may find it less of a boon in future."
Depends on the kind of Nosferatu I meet, I suspect. Alice stepped into the elevator and hit the button labeled "PH." But first I have to get through a meeting with a certain Ventrue. Hopefully he's in a decent mood tonight. . .
The ride up to the penthouse was – quicker than Alice imagined it should be, though she honestly had no idea how long such a ride should take. The doors eventually opened onto a small hallway with a red carpet and a pair of fancy wooden double doors right in front of her. Alice, mindful of protocol for once in her unlife, knocked politely on them. "Prince LaCroix?"
"Ah yes – enter!"
Alice did so, stepping into an office that was – grand, to say the least. The floors were well-polished oak, cut to form diamonds and squares with more diamonds inside of them, while the walls were a combination of light blue wallpaper and big white panels with fancy designs drawn on them in gold. To her left was a sitting area, with a large green marble coffee table and some plush-looking red chairs set in front of a crackling white-and-gold fireplace (Alice resisted the urge to edge away from it); to her right was a single red settee flanked by golden candelabras, and a couple of elegant white display cases against the wall behind, various little knickknacks from around the world displayed behind their glass. Before her, on a slightly-raised platform, resided LaCroix himself, sat behind a surprisingly-small white desk further dwarfed by the giant windows behind him, and by his Sheriff standing slightly to his left, imposing as ever. "There you are," LaCroix greeted her, beckoning her forward. "I was informed of your presence in the building by Officer Norris." He leaned on his desk, steepling his fingers. "Since you're here, I'll take the liberty of assuming you've destroyed the warehouse. This is correct, yes?"
Norris? "Chunk" really does suit him better. "Done, dusted, boom," Alice confirmed with a nod. "If there's anything left of it, it wasn't for lack of trying."
LaCroix nodded back once. "Most excellent. I had no doubt you'd prove my decision a prudent one." He tilted his head. "I trust you encountered no. . .impediments to your progress on account of my personnel?"
"You mean Mercurio? Not at all – he was incredibly helpful," Alice replied. "Told me exactly who I needed to talk to and where to go, and even gave me a bit of background on my new – situation. If I were you, I'd give him a bonus."
LaCroix raised an eyebrow. "Indeed. . .well, I'm glad to hear he was useful to you," he said, waving a hand. "You've done well, circumstances being what they were. I will admit, not many in your. . .position would have overcome such a trial." He hit her with a stern look. "But don't misunderstand me – it was no fool's errand. That warehouse had to go."
"On that, we are agreed," Alice assured him. "I overheard some of what the people inside were talking about – nasty lot."
"Glad you understand. And I was informed a little while earlier by Strauss that you have already volunteered to look into the disease suddenly running rampant through our little section of Los Angeles." LaCroix gave her a slight, thin smile. "Such eagerness to assist – you may yet prove to be a genuine asset. It's a bit disturbing, the lack of talent within this organization as of late."
"I'm just doing my best, sir," Alice said, rocking on her heels and managing to stop herself from scraping the last word's aftertaste off her tongue with her teeth. "And I very much do not want to pick up whatever that plague is."
"None of us do. So I hope you will soon bring the matter to a swift conclusion." LaCroix leaned back, regarding her. "That being said – tell me, what would you say to doing a bit of reconnaissance for me?"
If I thought I could give my tongue full rein, I'd ask why you're even pretending to give me a choice. "Dangle it in front of me – I'll bite," Alice said instead.
"Hah, good." He leaned on one elbow against his chair's armrest, dragging the other through the air. "There have been whispers, rumors spreading around the Kindred community concerning the Elizabeth Dane, the cargo ship that was towed into port recently. Have you heard of it?"
"Two days! You were right, Alice!" Thinker cried, head popping open in his excitement.
What did I tell you? "I saw it on the news the night before last," she confirmed to LaCroix. "Something about it being a ghost ship?"
"Yes – the entire crew missing without a trace," LaCroix confirmed. "The police are investigating the Dane as we speak, and not much has been released to the public. Even the Nosferatu have little information on what's been found." He raised a point-making finger. "However – the reason the ship has caused such speculation is because it was transporting an object called the Ankaran Sarcophagus."
Now it was Alice's turn to raise an eyebrow. "The Ankaran Sarcophagus? What's that? Other than a sarcophagus, of course."
LaCroix sighed, rolling his eyes. "Information is thin on the ground, as I said. I don't know all the details yet. But apparently it is a recent historical find unearthed in Turkey – which has known its fair share of Kindred activities over the years. Meaning that most of the rumors around this sarcophagus center around it holding an ancient one of our kind, having slipped into slumber centuries ago. Harmless enough for now – but if it is disturbed, and given the opportunity to awaken. . ."
"Bad things?" Alice guessed, picturing bloody puppet strings once more.
"Very." LaCroix sat up straight again. "Now, I'm not one to predicate a decision based on conjecture, so what I need is fact – and, more importantly, I need evidence that the occurrences on the Dane were not supernatural in nature, and in no way relate to this Ankaran Sarcophagus."
"And – if I find otherwise?" Alice had to ask.
There was a brief flicker in LaCroix's expression – something that looked frightened, yet. . .hungry. Then he was his cool collected self again. "Then we'll deal with it however we can," he replied, leaning toward her. "You have three objectives. One – I want you to examine the sarcophagus for anything unusual. Take note of any peculiar feelings you have around it. Many Kindred in the city have reported an – uneasiness in the air since the Dane's arrival."
Aha – that's probably the feeling that Beckett was chasing before! I wonder if he knows about the ship. . .does a man who can spend his nights as a wolf watch the evening news? "I'll see what I can sense," Alice promised.
LaCroix nodded slightly. "Good – but do not, under any circumstances, open the Ankaran Sarcophagus. We don't need it further disturbed. Two – the police have begun their investigation, as stated; find out what they have concluded thus far. The kine perspective would be useful. Three – take the cargo manifest from the ship; I want to see what else it was carrying." He wagged a finger at her. "The last thing we want is the police aware of our existence, so be careful what you do in front of them. And, unlike the warehouse, you cannot wholesale slaughter a ship of lawmen without consequences. Is this understood?"
"Of course – I wasn't planning on starting a bloodbath," Alice said, allowing herself a slight frown. "I snuck both into and out of the warehouse almost entirely without being noticed. I'm sure I can repeat that performance on the Dane. Sir."
"Good." LaCroix leaned on his elbow again. "Oh – and in our call, Strauss informed me that you had an encounter with Nines Rodriguez, and had gone to see him at The Last Round to fulfill an invitation." He huffed. "That man does so love to throw that cretinous charm of his brashly about. What exactly did he have to say?"
"I would read back the minutes without implying you agree with them," Caterpillar advised, sitting on her shoulder.
"Indeed," Cheshire agreed, rubbing up against her leg. "He can take Nines's cutting words, but not if he feels they are laced with disloyalty."
Lucky, then, that I don't feel particularly loyal to anyone just now. "The Camarilla is a pyramid scheme, the Free State should remain free, all the people in power right now should go hang, and he's only willing to go golfing with you if he can beat you about the head with the club," Alice told him, ticking off the points on her fingers.
LaCroix blinked a few times, clearly not having expected the last one. "I – see." He smoothed his face back into unaffected calm. "Nothing he and his cronies haven't crassly delivered untold times within Elysium. Shame." He looked up at her with mock sympathy in his eyes. "You have to understand – most of the Anarchs know no better option, or have been bullied into their cause by the unrulier ones. You can't fault all for the boorishness of a few."
"I shall do my best not to," Alice said, holding her hands behind her back. Even if I do still want to knock Skelter's skull against Damsel's and see how much they rattle.
"Excellent." LaCroix tossed a hand carelessly. "Now that that's out of the way, I trust you're prepared to leave for the Dane."
"I am always ready to be already gone," Alice replied truthfully.
"Good. I'm counting on an encore exposition of the talent you showed earlier." He pointed at the door. "Go! There's a boat waiting for you on the beach in Santa Monica. And remember, under no circumstances are you to open the Ankaran Sarcophagus. We'll talk later."
Alice nodded. "Indeed we will. Have a good night."
She immediately and gratefully turned back toward the door, doing her best to ignore the Sheriff's eyes on her as she strode up the carpet and out of the office. "Well," she said once she was safely outside again, "that could have gone worse, I suppose."
"Yes – he could have simply forced you to do his bidding, without disguising it behind pleasant words," Cheshire said, glancing behind him before giving her a grin (not that he could ever give her anything else). "As it stands, I believe he believes you cowed enough to do what he wants, no questions asked."
"And, unfortunately, thanks to the whole 'I can just force you to do it if you make eye contact with me' business, he's not exactly wrong." Alice sighed as she made her way over to the elevator. "Love to leave this all behind and start again somewhere new, but circumstances and Dominate forbid. At least sneaking onto a boat isn't nearly as horrible and murdery as blowing up a warehouse?"
"Depends on how you sneak," Cheshire commented, getting low to the ground and extending his claws.
"Well, I'll be sneaking in the way that allows me to avoid being a complete monster who destroys everyone in her path." Alice hit the call button, then stepped inside the elevator as it dinged open. "Lucky now that I'm such a dab hand at–"
"Hey! Hold the elevator!"
Startled, Alice reflexively stuck her head out to see who had hailed her – which did indeed cause the doors to slide back open, so at least it worked to fulfill the request. "Wha – oh! Van! Terrence! I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."
"Alice! Hi," Van said, slowing to a walk as Terrence regarded her curiously. "Gotta say, same here – so you made it through Santa Monica?"
"I did indeed," Alice said, beckoning them into the elevator. "Finished the warehouse job, just spoke to LaCroix, and now I'm heading back there on another mission."
"Really." Van shared a look with Terrence. "That's pretty impressive, I gotta say. Not a lot of fledglings would be able to stand up to a whole warehouse full of Sabbat gun-runners."
"Depends on whether or not those fledglings can go invisible, I suspect," Alice replied. She gestured at the keypad as the doors closed. "Floor?"
"Ground level – we're heading out for the night," Terrence told her. "Doing reconnaissance on what's going on with the plague that's struck the city. Someone's told you about that, right?"
"Oh yes, I was informed by Strauss earlier," Alice confirmed, pressing the button. "Glad to see it's not just me and the Anarchs working on trying to stop it."
"The Anarchs?" Terrence frowned, running his fingers through his short blond hair. "They actually give a shit?"
"Very much of one now that they know at least one of your side blames them for the infections," Alice told him. "Which they're not, incidentally. They're trying to figure out the source the same as the rest of us. Which is only good sense – what vampire would want to spread disease and death among the population?"
"Nutter Sabbat death cults," Van said shortly. "Really hoping we don't have one of those around. The idiots who tried to attack us right after your not-execution were bad enough. . ." He turned a critical eye to her outfit. "See that you're dressing more like an Anarch now too."
"I've still got that pretty dress you got for me, don't worry," Alice said, resisting rolling her eyes. This from a man whose shirt perfectly matches his hair color. . . "I just need more practical things for everyday." She glanced at the bloodstains across her pants. "Stuff that's easy to wash, mainly – I spent a lot of my time in Santa Monica getting covered in shit. Almost literally, in fact, with all the sewer walking I had to do."
Van shuddered. "Ugh. You wouldn't catch me dead in the sewers. I don't know how the Nosferatu stand it down there! I mean, I know they can't go out like the rest of us, but – ugh."
"Drama queen," Terrence muttered, shaking his head. "This is why I have to babysit you every time we go out, you know."
"Hey, I pull my weight! If it wasn't for me, you'd never have a properly-pressed suit for Elysium."
Alice bit back a smile. "Right. . .what exactly is that, if you don't mind me asking? LaCroix mentioned it just now too, but – I've learned not to ask him questions if I don't have to."
"Oh – 'Elysium' is our term for a space that's neutral ground," Terrence informed her. "A place where all Kindred can come and mingle, with no violence allowed." He rolled a shoulder. "Well – no physical violence allowed. People can get as catty as they want."
"The Prince generally designates a space as Elysium when we want to have a big gathering of some kind," Van added. "You can get anything from a tasteful tour of a museum's art gallery to a rocking party at a nightclub, depending on the Prince and what they want." He stood up a little straighter, grinning. "I'm hoping that, if I make a good enough impression on LaCroix during this whole 'plague' thing, he'll name me Keeper of Elysium, and we can properly celebrate when the last plaguebearer gets ashed! We haven't had a real party since we came to this lousy city!"
"That's because we've been beating off Kuei-jin and Sabbat with sticks and trying to make sure the Anarchs don't try to blow us up in our sleep," Terrence reminded him.
"Yeah, well, still – a nice night out would do all of us some good."
A little snort escaped, despite her best efforts. "Interesting. . .is this just a Camarilla thing, or do all vampires abide by that rule?"
"The Camarilla is supposed to be all Kindred. . .but I don't know if the Anarchs have the same thing or not," Terrence admitted, shrugging. "Be kinda stupid if they didn't, but then again, they're all about their 'freedom.' Which probably includes the freedom to get the shit kicked out of you wherever and whenever."
"I think they probably do have Elysium, they just don't call it that," was Van's opinion. "They like to pretend they're better than us, but they do keep the most important Traditions, like the Masquerade. And they have their own little emissaries to us, like we have to them, they just call 'em by different names. I bet you they at least uphold 'a Kindred's haven is their own little Elysium.' Nobody wants shit to start in their house – especially if it might break a window."
Alice winced, recalling hastily slapping up boards before sunrise in her little Santa Monica apartment. "Point. . .but maybe with them, it's less a general rule and more decided on a Kindred-by-Kindred basis," she added, thinking of Damsel and her eagerness to throw down with the "Cammy." "Still, it's good to know that if anyone visits my haven, I can tell them to cut shit out and they should listen."
"Hopefully," Terrence agreed. "Though I wouldn't invite people over willy-nilly. You never know who might mean you harm."
"Also a fair point." Alice looked over at the doors as they dinged open. "And here we are, ground floor. I suppose I'll see you around the city – good luck with your inquiries into the source of the plague."
"Thanks – good luck with your. . .uh. . .what are you doing?" Van asked, raising an eyebrow.
"A bit of reconnaissance for the Prince – I don't know how much detail I should provide," she added, dropping her voice and nodding at Chunk, happily oblivious behind his desk.
"Ah, right – well, good luck with it anyhow," Van said, giving her a little smile. "And try not to ruin your outfit, all right?" He glanced at her jeans. "Any more, anyway."
"I will make every effort not to – my laundry bills are already threatening to go through the roof." She raised a hand in farewell. "Safe travels."
"You too," Terrence said, waving back.
Alice nodded, then headed for the doors, giving Chunk a pleasant little incline of her head as she passed. "At least they're not so bad," she added to herself once she was outside. "Got a little more information out of them, anyway. Good to know my haven's a designated safe space."
"Mmm – I would not consider them fully trustworthy, but they can be of help from time to time," Cheshire agreed, tail arched above his back. "If nothing else, you could probably convince the vehicular one to go on another shopping trip for you."
"Ha – I'd love to let him spend all of LaCroix's money on clothes for me, trust me," Alice said with a chuckle. "But alas, it is not to be." She raised her hand, waving down a taxi. "As it is, I will hope that visiting the Dane and sneaking a peek at that sarcophagus will earn me – uh."
A very familiar cabbie grinned at her, peeping at her over his sunglasses. "Going somewhere?"
"Yes – which seems to be more than I can say for you," Alice replied, getting her bearings. "Are you the only cab driver in Los Angeles at the moment?"
"I'm the one who answered your call," the cabbie responded, still smiling. "And I can get you to your destination."
Ugh – now he's turning into you, Cheshire. But I really don't feel like trying to find another cab, and I already know his particular brand of weirdness, so. . . "Well, my destination right now is back the way I came," Alice said, opening the door and slipping into the backseat. "And a little farther besides – I find myself with a distinct need to visit the beach. Can you get me there?"
The cabbie merged smoothly into the traffic. "I think I can get you close enough."
"Hey!"
Mercurio strolled up to Alice as she stepped onto the beach, arms wide and smile even wider. "You, hey, what can I say?" he continued, voice as bright as his face. "You not only preserved my ass, you gave it a fuckin' glowing review! LaCroix called me up and actually complimented me on doin' a good job! You know how hard it is to get a genuine compliment out of that dick? Damn, I'm about ready to just pick ya up and squeeze ya like a tube of toothpaste!"
"I'd rather you didn't," Alice said with an awkward laugh, retreating just out of reach. "I like you, but – I have a few issues with being touched." Mostly thanks to everyone's favorite orderlies back at Rutledge – hope no one else there has had to suffer the attentions of Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum lately.
"They still seem very dead, much like my old asylum," Hatter said reassuringly. "And I've no interest in reviving them, so you needn't worry."
Good, because I'm not interested in clapping eyes on them ever again. Unless I can sneakily drain them for a quick snack.
"It's fine, it's fine," Mercurio assured her, chuckling as he let his arms drop. "But I truly appreciate you not sayin' anything, and I want you to know, I take care of those who do me favors. So from now on, you need equipment, info, you come see me at my apartment. Don't hesitate."
"Thank you – though I was under the impression I had at least some of those privileges already, given we worked together to take down Stan The Arm-Loving Man," Alice admitted, digging the toe of her sneaker into the sand.
"Now you get the discount," Mercurio replied with a wink. "Seriously, though – you need anything, you just let me know. I've got connections all over the city. Should be able to scare up whatever it is."
"I see – well, what I need right now is a boat," Alice said, going up on tiptoe. "I assume for once LaCroix informed you?"
"Yeah, he said he was sending you over to take a look at the Dane," Mercurio confirmed. "Dunno why he's so interested, but it seems to have all the locals on edge, so. . ." He shrugged, then gestured to the lapping tide behind him, where a little inflatable dinghy with a motor attached to the back sat. "Sorry it ain't the QE II, but I didn't have much time to grab it."
"As long as it doesn't dump me straight to the bottom of the ocean, it'll be fine," Alice assured him – then frowned thoughtfully. "Though – that's not quite the problem it once was, is it?"
"Nah – I've heard a story or two about the occasional Gangrel or Nosferatu who tries livin' underwater, getting their jollies off fish and shipwrecks," Mercurio told her. "Dunno if any of 'em are real, but – hell, who knows with you lot, right? You got all sorts of weird shit goin' on."
"That's for damn sure." Alice scanned the beach, and noticed a familiar pair sitting on the rocks nearby, eyeing Mercurio with trepidation. "Speaking of weird shit, I think you're worrying the locals."
"Huh?" Mercurio turned and looked. "Oh, them? Yeah, I know what they are, but I don't care. Unless they wanna buy a gun from me."
"I don't know if that would be a wise purchase in their case. . ." Alice walked over to Julius and Copper with a wave. "Hello boys – how are things going?"
"They're going," Copper replied, squinting over her shoulder at Mercurio. "He on the level? Just he's giving me weird vibes."
"He knows about vampires – and he doesn't want to cause any trouble," Alice assured him. "He's just here because I've got a mission on the water."
"Mission? From the head vampire?" Copper suddenly looked much more interested. "Who is it? Do you think you can kill him?"
"Hey – maybe don't say that kinda stuff around me?" Mercurio called, suddenly looking a little more worried. "I kinda work for the guy?"
"Copper's just seen too many movies!" Alice yelled back, shaking her head. "Didn't we go over this already? I told you that my sire's death had no effect on me."
"Yeah, but he wasn't the head vampire," Copper insisted.
"That's not LaCroix either – he's just a head vampire," Alice replied. "And only in the political sense – he didn't make Fish. Killing him won't change our state – and before you say I should at least try, I don't stand a chance in hell of succeeding. Largely because his bodyguard is as thick as the three of us standing side-by-side and can lift a sword the size of a small table."
"R-re-really?" Julius squeaked, eyes wide.
"Really – I nearly got my head whacked off by it, so I should know," Alice said, folding her arms. "And I don't want a repeat, especially as the result of a stupid crime that wouldn't even help us."
"Fine, fine. . ." Copper huffed. "I just – I wanna be human again, you know? This life sucks! You gotta respect that!"
"Oh, I do," Alice assured him. "I've only been a vampire for about five days – well, nights – or so, and I already miss being human very, very badly. This life does suck. But there's nothing either you or I can do about it, except deal with it. I know it's hard, but you just have to learn to live with your new state. Or unlive with it, as the case may be."
"W-we're trying," Julius mumbled, staring at his feet. "It a-ai-ain't easy."
"I know," Alice nodded. "And I understand very well that it's hardest when you're at the bottom of the totem pole. But you've made it this far, right?"
"Suppose," Copper allowed, running his fingers through his hair. "All right, I promise I won't try anything against this 'LaCroix' guy."
"Thank you – I don't think E, Lily, and Rosa would be happy with you or me if you ended up a pile of ash in his office. I want to see you safely off to Oregon once you've finished your business here." She tilted her head. "Speaking of which, how are things with the mysterious Dave?"
"G-go-good," Julius said, brightening a little. "He's a g-great listener. We've got some c-co-cool ideas flowing."
"I still dunno about him. . .but hell, if he can help us get some extra cash to get out of here, I'm good with that," Copper said, shrugging. Then he sighed. "In the meantime, I guess I'd better get myself a rat for dinner. Since, you know, anything else is out of the question."
"I'd buy you something from the blood bank, except I'm worried that if I set eyes on Vandal Cleaver again, I'll kill him without a single thought or ounce of remorse." Alice pulled a face. "You, uh, get used to rat."
Copper rolled his eyes. "Remind me why I shouldn't be lookin' for a cure again?"
"Because there isn't one. We must all take our lumps, I'm afraid." Alice gave him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. "Just take it one night at a time. That's serving me well so far."
"Good advice – but this particular night is starting to run out," Rabbit said, yanking out his pocket watch and holding it up.
"Indeed – you might want to get a move on before Time decides to surprise you with the sunrise," Hatter agreed.
"Mmm – and now I need to get going," she added, looking back at her boat. "Stay out of trouble, all right?"
"We're not seeking it out, trust me." Copper squinted at Mercurio. "Sort of comes to us."
"Hey, I'm just here 'cause she needed a boat," Mercurio told him, strolling over. "But I'm open to talkin' business if you really want. I can get you somethin' from the blood bank, if you're willing to do a favor or two."
Copper raised an eyebrow. "Depends on the favor. What are we talking here?"
"I shall leave you to your negotiations," Alice said, chuckling. "See you soon, I hope."
"Yeah, stay safe out there," Mercurio said, flapping his hand at her. "Don't get a stick up your ass, kid, it's nothing too hard. You see, I gotta few contacts around the city that could use a couple of guys to do some quick delivery jobs. . ."
Alice gave the scene an approving nod as she made her way down the beach to her inflatable chariot. "That's what I like about him – he's fair," she commented as she pushed it into the water. "He doesn't care who or what you are – if you help him, he'll help you. Yes, the 'help' generally involves something illegal, and the person on the other end is generally a vicious predator of the night, but. . ."
"But given your current state, that is exactly what you need," Cheshire finished for her, materializing on the tiny bench inside the dinghy. "The man on the couch is a loyal and useful friend indeed. You were wise indeed to sing his praises – metaphorically – to LaCroix."
"There was absolutely no reason to rat him out for the mess with the explosives, especially since it wasn't even really his fault," Alice replied, swinging herself into the boat once it was properly afloat. She yanked the pull-cord for the motor a couple times, causing it to roar to life. "And double-especially with Rosa having already told me he was one of like five people I could trust. I may not be the most sociable of people – or vampires – but I recognize the need to cultivate at least some friends."
"No man – or woman – is an island," Caterpillar agreed sagely. "Largely because islands are not made of meat, nor do they usually amble about. Just keep your eyes peeled for the volcano goddess and the collared one, and you shall be fine."
"Trust me, I want to know who the hell they are too. But for now. . ." Alice gunned her way into the open ocean. "Let's find that damn ship. Hopefully it's not too far out. . ."
It wasn't, fortunately, though it was definitely far enough from the pier to avoid most unwanted attention. The Elizabeth Dane proved to be a fairly standard-looking large cargo boat (Alice assumed, anyway – it wasn't like she had much basis for comparison), drifting slightly in the water as the waves lapped its red bottom. There was another, smaller boat standing guard by its side that Alice supposed belonged to the Coast Guard or a similar entity, but she couldn't see anyone on deck as she buzzed her way up. "Small bit of luck there," she mumbled, carefully bringing her little dinghy around. "But how busy is the Dane herself. . ."
"Busy enough for one," Leader said, pointing up with a crayon. "He seems to want your attention – and maybe the rest of you."
"What?!"
Alice's head snapped up – to see a police officer looking straight at her over the side of the ship. Before she could either curse her misfortune or test the range on her ability to make people helpless with laughter or tears, though, the officer shook his head and jerked his thumb over toward a rope ladder draped over the side, in a very "hurry up" sort of way. Alice raised an eyebrow, but nodded and brought her craft around to it. She cut the engine, then dropped the tiny plastic anchor over the side to keep it at least vaguely moored. "Now this is interesting," she muttered as she started her ascent. "Have I been mistaken for a different girl in blue?"
"Purrhaps not that, but certainly for something other than what you are," Cheshire said, floating beside her as eyes and smile. "Cultivate the lie, and you should have an easier time on this craft."
Depends on the lie, but I'll do what I can.
With a final grunt, she reached the top and hoisted herself up and over onto the deck. The officer from before promptly strolled over to meet her, rolling his eyes with a put-upon sigh. "Oh, for chrissakes," he grumbled, looking her up and down in her cheap-t-shirted-and-jeaned glory. "Tell Jacobson that if he plans on making editor-in-chief, he's gotta start working with me. I can't keep getting him these scoops if he's gonna send high school journalists who don't know enough to wear something that would blend in."
Aha! Yes, this lie I can definitely work with. "Hey, I wasn't even supposed to be here tonight," Alice whispered back, putting on a frown. "But the person who was got food poisoning at the last minute, and I was the only one in the office available on short notice. I don't want to be here any longer than you want me here. I've got better stories to write."
"Hey, hey, take it easy, Lois Lane," the officer – Heinz, according to his name tag – said, holding up his hands with a warning glare. "This is still a badge you're talking to."
"My apologies, sir – no offense," Alice quickly replied, shrinking back to try and show some deference. "I'm just on-edge – don't want anyone to see me and rumble what we're doing."
"Yeah, I get that." Heinz rooted around his pocket for a minute, producing a tightly-folded piece of paper. "All right, look, I got you a copy of the initial report, and I can get you into the cabin, but you gotta make yourself real scarce after that. Anybody catches you, I don't know you. And no goddamn flash photography, brainchild."
"I'm not a total idiot, sir," Alice said, accepting the report from him. "But as I'm not a sailor either, I do need directions. Where does my path lead?"
"Hold up a sec." Heinz grabbed his shoulder radio. "Heinz to Marsh, Heinz to Marsh – Marsh, they need you up in the bridge, over."
"Again? Fine," an annoyed voice crackled back. "Pencil-pushers. . .over."
"Yeah, I know, I know. Out." Heinz turned back to her. "There, the security room'll be clear for a bit. Head down the stairs behind you and stay low. When you get down there, wait for me to call off the guy guarding Gangway A. As soon as he leaves, get your ass moving, and don't let him see you. I'll give you a couple of minutes but don't dilly-dally. In and out, 'k?"
"To be as shadow is the plan," Alice nodded.
"Good – because, again, if anyone sees you, you're on your own," Heinz said with a point-making finger wag. "Take the stairs up to the security room – there'll be a computer in there. The password is 'lighthouse' – 'lighthouse,' all one word. You getting all this?"
"Stairs down, past Gangway A once the guard leaves, stairs up, security room, lighthouse, one word," Alice repeated, counting on her fingers. "Quick question – would the cargo manifest be in there? Jacobson was interested in what else was on the ship."
"There's a copy in the records room – you can unlock that on the computer if you gotta," Heinz said, shaking his head. "Now get a move on. And don't forget to tell Jacobson I get double my usual fee for this one."
"Consider the message passed," Alice nodded. "Good night, officer."
"Yeah, yeah, go!"
Alice went, dropping into a crouch before sneaking down the stairs behind her. Heinz nodded, then grabbed his radio again. "Heinz to Jacobson – er, no, Anderson," he quickly corrected himself. "Heinz to Anderson, come in Anderson."
"Yeah, what?" Anderson replied – Alice clocked the voice as coming from behind a massive coil of rope on the mysterious lower deck.
Heinz gave her a nod before grinning in the general direction of his compatriot. "Whoa – come check this out!" he urged, waving. "I just saw a baleen whale!"
"Yeah?" Footsteps sounded from behind the coil – Alice snatched up her Darkened Looking Glass, fading into nothingness as Anderson appeared. "What, like a humpback?"
"Yeah, maybe! Didn't get a good look at it, but it was big!"
"Yeah? Get out of the way and let me get a look!"
Well then – give Officer Ketchup points for being a decent actor, Alice thought, carefully sneaking along the metal floor of the lower deck as Anderson clomped off to see the whale, using his footsteps to mask her own little clanks and clatters. Just have to hope he can hold his fellow cop's attention long enough. She eased her way past some blinking control panels, glancing around. Rabbit, this is a mission that requires both speed and stealth – if I handle the latter, can you handle the former?
"Certainly!" Rabbit jogged ahead, tapping his foot against a door hidden in the shadows past the panels. "This way!"
I see it! Alice crept up to it, then reluctantly let her invisibility go as she turned the handle and slipped through, coming across another set of metal stairs on the other side. And, unfortunately, now everyone can see me. . .I really have to get to the point where I can at least open a door without having to pop back into existence.
"Keep practicing the way you have, and you shall reach that peak sooner rather than later," Caterpillar said encouragingly.
Good, because I might be getting a lot of practice here. Alice descended the stairs as silently as possible, to find another door at the bottom. She eased it open and peeked through. Beyond it was a thin corridor of dull gray metal, ill-lit with blue light –
And splashed quite liberally with old blood. Alice raised an eyebrow at the mess. Looks like someone's been practicing something else in here, she thought, glancing left and right for guards. Bloody hell – quite literally, in fact. The poor souls on this ship. . . She sighed softly. Nothing I can do for them now, though. Rabbit, which way?
"Here, here!" Rabbit hurried over to a steel door and gave it a mighty kick – only to rebound off it with a yelp. Alice couldn't help wincing at the echo, even if she knew it was all in her mind. "Ow! Another one that doesn't understand Time doesn't like to be wasted," he complained, hopping in place and cradling his injured foot.
Good thing I have just the tool for the job, hmm? Alice went over to the door, pulling out her lockpicking kit, and set herself to the task of tapping in the tumblers, stirring her blood for extra speed. Fortunately the lock was not a tough one at all, and yielded after only a minute of dedicated attention. Alice opened it to find herself in a mesh-floored room lit in red, underneath a staircase –
And right next to the Records Room door. Well – that's convenient! Maybe, she qualified, squinting the lock. After all, Condiment Cop already told me that you unlock it remotely from the security room. Though there is a physical keyhole too. . .no, let's not waste time trying my picking skills against it when I already have a key in hand. There's only so long Anderson will be distracted by the desire to see a whale. Let's try the staircase instead – is the security room up there?
She circled around and climbed the steps, allowing her form to fade from view for a moment just in case she was surprised. The ascent brought her into a corridor lit by the standard vaguely-yellowish light – Rabbit promptly made for the door on her left, so she did the same. A quick test of the handle proved it wasn't locked, and a quick peep through the keyhole indicated it was unoccupied, so Alice opened it and slipped through. The area beyond proved to be a makeshift office, complete with a coffee maker balanced on the most rickety table she'd seen yet, and a computer with a spare monitor stacked upon an old filing cabinet. "Feels right to me," Alice mumbled, heading straight for the computer. "And what do you have for me. . ."
Three things, according to the monitor that was on and glowing greenly into the night – "reports," "log," and "control." Alice picked "control" from the list, typed in "lighthouse" at the password prompt, and was rewarded with a list of items ranging from "deck cams on" and "unlock doors" straight up to "sound horn" and "start engine." "Wonder what LaCroix would think if I tried to steal the entire boat for him," Alice muttered, smirking. "But I probably can't get it all the way back Downtown, so I'll think he'll just have to be satisfied with the cargo report."
One click and a bit of typing later, the computer informed her that all the bulkheads were open. "Excellent – now, to see if the deck cams will give me a good view of the sarcophagus," she said, going back up a menu and selecting that option. The second monitor obligingly lit up. "I may need the practice with Obfuscate, but might as well save my precious blood for when I really need it."
"An intelligent thought – though, admittedly, the deck is not wanting for blood," Caterpillar observed from atop her head.
"What?" Alice turned to the camera monitor – to see a giant puddle of old blood beside what she guessed was a turbine. "Oh hell – you speak the truth once again, oracle. Is it this bad all over the ship?"
"Only two ways to find out," Cheshire told her. "And you've already ruled out one as too much trouble."
"Mmm. . ." Alice fiddled with the computer, discovering quickly that clicking the mouse allowed her to cycle through the cameras. The first click just showed her an overhead view of a bunch of shipping containers, mercifully free of rusty red stains; the second, a bunch of cops milling around on one of the decks. The third click, however, brought her to a quiet spot where the sarcophagus sat in the remains of a shattered wooden crate, cordoned off from onlookers –
And surrounded by blood with its lid slightly askew. Alice's eyes widened. "Uh. . ."
"Well – um – you didn't open it?" Hatter said, rubbing the back of his neck and making his rollers rattle.
"Oh, what a play!" Carpenter whispered, eyes shining with delight. "Whoever set this up knows his theatrical arts!"
Alice shot him a look. "This isn't theater. . .unless it is," she added, raising an eyebrow. "You think this might be a set-up? By whom?"
"Oh, I haven't figured that out yet," Carpenter said, waving a hand carelessly. "Could be anyone – Heinz, Jack, the fellow in the box itself. . ."
"I'd point out that whoever was inside the box was supposed to be dead, but then I'm supposed to be dead, so. . ." Alice turned off the monitor again and glanced at the door. "All right – I've got a copy of the initial police report, I've taken a look at the crime scene and all its worrying implications, and I've unlocked the Records Room so I've at least got a shot at the cargo report. Rabbit, do you think I have enough time to quickly look at the logs?"
"If you read faster than you run," Rabbit said, consulting his watch anxiously. "I'd activate the Dead-Time function for you, but I'm not mad enough to consider that anything but a fool's errand."
"I do appreciate the thought, at least." Alice hastily skipped back menus until she reached the starting screen, then picked "log" from the list –
Only to be confronted with her old nemesis, the password screen. Which very much did not accept "lighthouse." "Oh, damn – hint? Anyone?"
"The very Italian Tony has found himself to be a large body of water," Cheshire provided. "Or purrhaps a seasoning leaf."
"Hmm – well, not hard to puzzle out that 'bay' is part of it," Alice murmured, drumming her fingers on the desk. "But 'very Italian Tony. . .' Antonio?"
Typing "antoniobay" did indeed grant her access to the logs. After another quick glance at the door, Alice skimmed over them – fortunately, they were few and short. "These poor people – a couple of normal days at sea, then all of them taken out by a slow but steady massacre," she murmured as she read through all the captain's entries about missing crew and sabotaged radios, leading to his final declaration about the ship being cursed. "And nobody's ever going to know what really happened to them, are they? Not when all that can be found is blood and gore and a few terrified words typed into the night."
"Unfortunately, you can't be the one to solve that mystery – yet, anyway," Cheshire said, bonking his head against her side as Rabbit tugged on her sleeve. "Heinz's powers of distraction are starting to wane, and you can't be seen here when they fully fade."
"Right, right – let's get that cargo report and get out of here." Alice took a moment to make sure everything was reset to the state it had started in, then headed for the door. "I'd like to leave this floating grave behind sooner rather than later."
Getting out was as easy as getting in, fortunately – after a quick check for wandering guards, Alice sped right out the door (grimacing at the giant bloodstain resting beneath the door opposite) and down the stairs. A quick turn right brought her to the Records Room, and a quick push on the handle brought her inside. This room was mostly filing cabinets, with a single table in the middle of it all. And on that single table was a single piece of paper, laid out almost as if someone had been expecting her. Alice picked it up and skimmed the contents –
SHIP MANIFEST
Ankaran Site Transport To Los Angeles:
Ankaran Sarcophagus – One (1)
Assorted pottery and tablets – Three (3) crates
Unidentified item – One (1) box
"Perfect! Don't know who just left this lying around, but I thank them." Alice folded up the manifest and stuck it in her pocket next to the police report. "All right, everyone, let's get–"
"Marsh to Heinz, Marsh to Heinz – what the hell, man? They didn't need me up there!"
Crap! Alice darted under the table and thought glass as the tap of well-shined shoes against very tarnished metal signaled the approach of one very annoyed Marsh. "Yeah, yeah, you just wanted me to waste my time," he continued, voice somewhat muffled by virtue of being out in the hall. "Oh, Officer Heinz, he's the funny one – how Anderson and Rodrigo stand you, I dunno." A pause. "No, I don't got a sense of humor when it's not even a joke! It's just wasting my goddamn time!" Another pause. "Yeah, you didn't ask for the easy job of looking over the railing at the goddamn whales all the time! Some of us have gotta deal with all this fucking blood all over the place! You know what it's gonna look like when the papers get a hold of this? People are gonna be freaking out over some weirdo serial killer! And we've already got one of those!" A more thoughtful pause. "Actually, wait – you think it could be the same guy? Like, I know that one guy on the pier got slaughtered before this thing came in, but if he escaped off the boat. . ."
"I don't think the mobile wetland is going anywhere," the Queen informed Alice, tapping an impatient tentacle. "Either sneak by him or shut him up, will you?"
Well, the problem with both those actions is, he's behind a door, and we know those are currently my greatest enemy. But neither can I spend the rest of the night on this ship, so. . .Alice bit her lip, then crawled over to said greatest enemy and sacrificed her invisibility to ease it open, putting her eye to the crack. Don't be facing this way, don't be facing this way. . .
Luck was with her – Marsh was standing with his back toward her, all his attention on his radio. And right next to her, the door to freedom loomed. Okay. So long as he doesn't immediately turn around, I might have a shot. Here goes. . .
She swallowed, then, as slowly as possible, eased the door to the Records Room open wide enough so she could slip out. She crept with extreme care the few steps to the door to the hallway, trying desperately to minimize the tap of her shoes against the metal, then slowly opened the hall door the absolute minimum she needed to get through. With her gap secured, she snatched up her Darkened Looking Glass and slithered through –
"Hey, what was – oh, fuck, who left this door open?!"
Alice promptly flattened herself against the wall to avoid a potential collision. . .only to hear Marsh's footsteps head slightly to the right instead. "God damn it, the Records Room is supposed to be locked!" he complained. "You fuckin' mess with the bulkheads too, Heinz?"
"Not me," Heinz said, barely audible through the wall. Alice used the cover of his chatter to start moving down the hallway. "Wasn't O'Neill supposed to be in there?"
"Yeah, asshole probably went to have the world's longest whizz and decided to just leave the door open again," Marsh complained. "At least he didn't leave his shit lying all over the table again. . .seriously, though, that motherfucker was born in a barn."
Which is to my advantage, Alice thought, creeping along and fighting back giggles. Thank you for being such an annoyance to your coworkers, O'Neill. She grabbed the handle of the door back to Heinz, grimacing as her limbs became visible again. Now I just have to figure out how to deal with this annoyance. Ugh, I will be so glad when I figure out how to stop this from happening. Every time I have to open a door, that's more blood that I have to waste on the Looking Glass.
"Could always pick up a snack before you leave," the Queen of Hearts said, meaty flowers dripping gore blooming across the hallway at her words.
I don't want to hurt anyone here – and not just because LaCroix said not to. Can you imagine the trouble I'd get in if I got caught chewing on a cop? Not even Ketchup up there could save me then – hell, he'd probably join in on shooting me. And then on being terrified when I didn't actually die. She once again opened the door just enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind her as quietly as possible, breathing a sigh of relief to find herself back in the little, empty antechamber with the stairs back to the main deck. So close, so close. . .let's just hope Anderson is still whale-watching!
She crept her way up the stairs as silently as possible (a real shame that Obfuscate doesn't obscure sound as well as sight), then eased open the door at the top and peeped out onto the deck. There was no sign of Anderson at the railing – but neither was there any sign of him at his post. The only cop currently on the beat was Heinz, gazing out across the water with practiced nonchalance. Time to play this like Rabbit and sacrifice stealth for speed, Alice decided, and jogged toward her surprise "friend" on the force. "Hey!" she hissed as she mounted the stairs.
Heinz turned and frowned. "Easy!" he whispered back, pressing down with his hands. "You go too loud, you'll drag everybody out here!" He shook his head. "You get what you need?"
"Yes, thank you," Alice said, eyeing the horizon. Was it just her, or was it noticeably lighter? "So I'll be out of your, and everyone else's, hair now. And yes, I remember, double your usual."
"Good, thanks." Heinz shooed her to the ladder. "Now get moving before Anderson comes back from the can or Marsh starts busting my ass again."
Alice nodded, waved, then swung herself gratefully over the edge, climbing down with as much speed as she dared before reaching her moored dinghy. A few hearty yanks on the rope brought her anchor up from the depths, and a pull on the cord brought her engine puttering back to life. "All right – that could have gone a lot worse," she said, zipping off back toward the beach. "Granted, whenever the actual reporter turns up, I'm going to be in deep shit with the local force."
"I don't see how – why would you be anywhere near their toilets?" Hatter asked, scratching under his hat.
"And I doubt the walking, talking bottle of tomato-based products would be the one to snitch on you," Cheshire added, tail flicking. "It's in his best interest that no one know he was the major leak on that boat."
"I suppose so, but still – I don't trust him as far as I can throw him," Alice said, frowning back at the boat. "Especially when he couldn't be bothered to double-check that I was who I said I was – I mean, it helped me out here, but. . .better to keep avoiding the boys in blue whenever I can, just in case."
"You and the law are not good bedfellows," Cheshire allowed. "Best to leave the pigs in their sty."
"Mmm." Alice squinted at the sky again, grimacing. "Shit – I am just going to beat the sun back to my haven, aren't I? Suppose this is what happens when you're running to and fro across half the city for most of the night. I need to get a night planner or something – try to schedule my time better."
"I think you'll find other people will be planning out your nights for you," Caterpillar reminded her. "With varying degrees of precision."
"Ugh, yes, I know. . .well, LaCroix can't say anything bad about how I handled this one," Alice said, patting her pocket. "I've got his manifest, his police report, and a tale about how something stalked that unfortunate crew all over the ship and tore them all to bits – and that it might have come out of that damn sarcophagus." She bit her lip. "Just what we need, the bastard child of The Mummy and Dracula roaming about and causing chaos."
"I wouldn't be too worried about that," Cheshire said, curling his tail around her leg. "The beast should be sated – for now. Keep your mind on more immediate worries."
"Trust me, I am well aware that the sun is chasing me to the shore. Come on, you little lawnmower engine, I need speed. . ."
Fortunately, it wasn't too much longer before she reached her destination. "Hey!" Mercurio said, standing up from his seat on the sand as Alice drove her boat onto shore. "Everything go okay?"
"Yes," Alice said, hopping out of the dinghy. "Can't linger, though – dawn's far too soon for my liking."
"Trust me, I noticed – your thin-blood friends already disappeared to wherever it is they hide out during the day," Mercurio said, nodding to some footprints crossing the beach. "Look, if you don't wanna risk running back to your apartment, my car's in the parkin' garage. Brown Dorado, plate W33-BALL – it's what they had," he said as Alice poorly hid a snort. "What's important to you is that it's got a sunproof trunk. You wanna wait out the day in there, feel free – I ain't gonna be using it for anything for a while."
"That is very kind of you," Alice said, shooting him a grateful smile. "I'll go get in right now. Thank you for all your help."
"No problem – like I said, I take care of those who take care of me," Mercurio said, reaching into his pocket and tossing her some keys. "Now go on, get yourself safe. Boss'll have my head if I let you burn up."
"Don't want that – see you tomorrow!"
Mercurio nodded and went to take care of the dinghy – Alice left him to it and jogged up the slope and around the stairs into the parking garage. Mercurio's car was happily parked just a few spaces away from the door – Alice popped the trunk with the provided key and climbed into the dark, heavily-carpeted space within, pulling the lid down atop her. "All right – see you in the evening, everyone," she said into the blackness as she felt the daylight heaviness settle into her limbs.
"See you," Cheshire replied, his yellow eyes glowing before her. One winked as he kneaded her chest. "And quite a few other people too."
And with that, they blinked out, taking Alice's consciousness with them.