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Tuesday, July 4th, 1995

Wednesday, July 5th, 1995

Friday, July 7th, 1995

Tuesday, July 4th, 1:35 p.m.

Igor sleepy meditation was suddenly interrupted by Spook entering the main room like an hurricane.
"Hey Ruskie, we got some news. Not much. But better than nothing. The Choristers are still there. Seems like they're holed up at the Temple the same way we are stuck here. Makes up for very effective alliance, don't you think? Everyone hiding in their own separate corners, while the big bad guys knocks us down one after the other."
Igor barely bothered to acknowledged Spook's statement. The beer was getting to him. Still tasted like piss. But he was developping a taste for piss. His head swimmed and his thoughts slipped out of control.
"Is that good news or bad news. I can't seem to decide.", Igor blurted out.
"Good news I guess. Better than having them run out on us. And knowing some other are stuck like we are kindof lightens up the mood."
"This news doesn't change the situation. Nothing is new. We are still prisoners of the Klub. And we are still divided. I'll sober up and tomorrow, I will try to get in touch with the Choristers. It's now or never...", Igor calmly stated. Staying rational and exploring all his options was what kept him alive all those years. But he slipped. Looking at the beer bottle in his hands, the Russian felt a revulsion, a shame at his own cowardice. He fled, like Lily flees, like so many others do. Self-pity had no place in his world.
Lost in those conflicting thoughts, Igor didn't see Spook moving quickly toward him before it was too late. The latino roughly grabbed the Russian by his shirt and poured a dangerous mix of anger and fear at him.
"You think you're some hot shot, Ruskie? You think you can pull what no one else here was able to pull? I'm getting fucking tired of your attitude, your fucking 'indifferent and superior' attitude. You come here, begging for some help and not even a week later, you offer to take control and guide us toward joy and happiness like we were a bunch of kids? All you do is comment. I never saw you lift a finger in this shit. Just sitting here, all by yourself while we get our asses kicked and we loose some good friends to the bastards outside. And now you THINK you will TRY to DO something about it?"
His anger was fueled by his inner despair. His movement gained strenght as he rudely lifted Igor on his feet and firmly pushed him back against the wall.
"You can't even defend yourself. All you know how to pull is act tough. You even got me fooled. I thought you had some balls. I thought you might care. I should get rid of you. One less small problem on our hands."
His last sentence was abruptly interrupted by the feeling of a hard object pressing against his stomach and a click as a gun's safety was being removed.
"This is not my war. I made it clear from the start. But as it seems someone else involved me against my will, I am forced to take sides. Just be grateful I am choosing your side. If 'you' continue to act tough and threaten me, I WILL defend myself. In a fatally efficient manner. If you can't deal with the pressure, stay out of my presence.", the Russian said, with the same calm composure he was known for.
Spook stared for a short while at Igor's eyes. The Russian was not bluffing. Without another word, the latino turned around and disappeared in the back of the bar.
Sighing loudly, Igor put back his gun in his holster and walked slowly toward the small room he shared with Lily. Once in the small and morbid room, he laid down and fell asleep within seconds.

July 4th, 20:53pm - Boardwalk

A tall shadow walked out of a side street and silently plunged toward the Boardwalk. Few people noticed. None of them simple mundanes. - A blond man casually dressed in dark clothes. - Igor had to get out, to dive into the human ocean that bordered the sea. The night fell quickly tonite, as the sun fled the scene and left a dark emptiness behind to be filled with the sounds and sights offered to and by the crowd. The danger was teasing his senses, but never actually threatening. And as his consciousness melted inside the crowd's, the feeling faded to a dull unease.
Igor had to get out, slip away for a few hours. His sanity depended on it. He got away from the madness and already, he felt better. The cool wind caressed his face and human presence filled his solitude. So many people all around. Happy souls partying with sad ones. Tonite, few cried out for what the Russian offered. But there would be time, later, to ease up some pain and loneliness. To answer some pleas and some prayers. It was a night for paradox. A night to live. Chaos sensually embraced order everywhere you looked. An incredible potential energy was building up all around, so densely you could feel it. The Russian looked around him, feeling the crowd. Emotion ran high. Love and hatred, greed and pleasure.
But once in a while, here and there, some individuals stood out from the background, ill concealed in this urban jungle. Over there on a railing, a child was sitting pretty, observing the crowd with mischief in her eyes. She looked like anything, but an ordinary girl to Igor. He felt like avoiding that one and didn't questioning the strange feeling.
Farther out from the main crowd, a single man was sitting atop a small ramp, getting ready to admire the fireworks. This one was full of life and energy. Purpose and serenity. Igor sighed with a pang of envy. Serenity. What a seductive but inaccessible concept. Somehow the Russian recognized part of the madness that lived inside him. A mage he concluded. Another one he felt like avoiding, but the reason was purely logical: staying out of trouble. He didn't feel like walking up to a potential enemy tonite. He couldn't recognize a Verbena if he met one before it was too late. Better avoid this unknown mage.
The railing seemed to be a popular place to be for strange beings tonite. Not too far, he spotted two men lying against the railing. One of them felt strangely like the child. Like the child, but at the same time so unlike the little girl. Igor was at a loss to explain his gut feeling about the man. And again, this uneasy feeling. Strange and alien.
Ah... and there, moving purposely through the crowd, a man surrounded by an aura of hunger and desperation. The Russian's curiosity was aroused. So full of energy, but bereft of life. A strange paradox. But then, this was the night for that. Igor could almost feel the dark hunger feeding the man's purpose. There was an untamed beast stalking a prey tonite. A deadly predator dressed in fancy clothes. Danger preceded his footsteps. Only a fool would put himself between this man and his hunger. Igor was not a fool.
A few others populated the area, each busy with their own preoccupations. Strange individuals. He moved about in the crowd, seemingly aimlessly. The omnipresent drone of voices brought him a comforting peace of mind. The place was not important, but the feeling was.
She walked right in front of him. A cheerful sparkle in her eyes. She was so pale, so fragile, so... lifeless but so full of life. Paradoxical. A sweet feeling. This woman didn't feel like a predator tonite. She was not a beast stalking her prey. Igor remembered Spook's words and looked at her eyes. The eyes of an intelligent woman and not the horror he was told to expect. She was one of the... vamps Spook had called them. He wanted to know, to understand.
After a moment of hesitation, Igor walked up to her in the crowd. When she stopped, content with her view of the fireworks, he quietly reached her, and asked from behind:
"A friend once told me the price for immortality was a very expensive one. What is your opinion on the question?"
A simple question that seemed to raise an inner conflict in the woman. For the space of a heartbeat, she did not respond. She tensed and hesitated and finally relaxed some. Unexpectedly, she didn't turn to face him. Instead she relaxed her hold on the railings, leaning back lazily so that her head was almost resting against his shoulder.
"It isn't cheap, but I do a very good rate for block bookings!"
There was a bright tone to her voice, as of suppressed laughter, and she glanced at him with grey eyes. More softly she added:
"Is a thing cheap if it is given to you without your asking, or does that only make it priceless? I think it is a subjective judgement.If a thing is something you want very much and costs you something that you hardly miss, then we say it is cheap. Maybe the true price of immortality is that you have to live forever.."
Her attention switched to the sky again as another ring of fireworks painted the sky with sparkling chrysanthemums of green and white light. For a moment she paused, as awed as a child, but her next comment was more sober.
"Was your friend a greengrocer or a market trader then, to see everything in terms of buying and selling and costs and prices?"
She gave the mage a more appraising glance, searching out his eyes with her own, as if trying to make sense of him. To understand.
"It's expensive. Yes. Is that what you think you are looking for?"
Igor kept silent for a few moments, trying to read her soul. His brown eyes held a touch of nostalgia, but the corner of his mouth slipped the hint of a smile. He was not a man who smiled often, but valued each of those moments preciously.
"Something is expensive if you have to pay with something that was precious to your soul. Would you have chosen immortality, now that you know what you had to give away?"
The Russian thought for a few seconds before adding a comment, impulsively.
"I am a giver of Death. I steal from hopeless souls the shreds of life they desperatly cling to, so they might be born again with new dreams and new hopes. But I want to understand what makes it right and what makes it wrong. The prices of life and death. Now, I know there is something else that is neither life nor death. Immortality. I want to know, I want to understand."
His attention wandered for a few seconds while the fireworks exploded in a cacophony that drowned his words.
"Sorry if my talk is gloomy and dark. Goes with the job I guess. But in a way, you are more alive than I am. I envy you that smile, I envy you your passion. You are a strange paradox of life, death, immortality and passion. That's what drew me to you."
Again.. the hint of a smile on his lips, a sparkle of... something in his eyes. The woman leaned back against him and maintained a crooked smile. Again, there was a thoughtful hesitation in her reaction, but it ended with a small smile and a sparkle in her eyes.
"I can't help feeling that you are a bit hung up on immortality", she laughed, her voice as soft as a purr. "Most don't live that long. Maybe I chose it for the power, or the mystery, or to find out the truth, or because the alternatives seemed worse, or because the choice wasn't really a choice at all. I love this life. Why dwell on might have been?"
Another clump of fireworks lit up the night sky, accompanied by a long 'ooooh' of wonder from the crowd, but this time she ignored them and turned to face Igor instead.
"What if there is no right?" she whispered. "What if being killed is no different from cancer or road accidents or old age or any of the other ways in which people can die. What if its just a great lottery and when your number is up then ... it is up? What would you say if I said that I had killed just to see what it felt like and that their little lives weren't important. Everything that lives must die, sooner or later."
There was a sense of mischief in her tone but also, maybe unwittingly a plea. Maybe she needed the answers as much as he, or more. Although she wasn't by any means beautiful, her face was alight with an energy that seemed to radiate charisma. She looked to his eyes, then his mouth, then his eyes again, teasing:
"I'm not sure you really want to know the costs, or the benefits... Certainly we are passionate, however much the old ones pretend. Why else would we love life so much?"
This time she laughed and leaned up inexorably to kiss him on the lips, looping her arms about his neck. Her mouth was as cold and smooth as milk, and the curves of her body were cool through the thin cotton of her shirt as she pressed against him, It was barely more than a touch, and then she pulled back.
"Who or what are you?"
How much to reveal, how much to hide. The situation brought a strange mood on Igor. He needed to talk to someone. The night was a night to share secrets... to share one's soul. Her daring and teasing attitude was something Igor had problems adjusting to. Definitively, he lacked proper experience when dealing with women. Such little details can confuse his senses. The irony made him smile for a moment.
He replied in a cool tone, but his eyes betrayed a bit of unease toward her teasing behavior.
"A good life is precious and not a thing to be wasted or taken lightly. A bad life is a prison for the soul and death is the key to escape it. It would make me very sad to know that you took away a good life away from someone without shedding a regret at the joy and passion you erased from existence with a single action. The damage is completely disproportionate compared to the ease of the gesture."
His eyes became mournful for an instant, before he went on with his reply.
"I could probably end your existence right now. A possibly easy gesture. But by doing so, reality would loose an intense source of passion, pleasure and pain. And be sensibly bleaker for it. I would mourn your passing. It would be a needless gesture. If you have to kill to survive, try to choose your victims well. Freeing people from a bad life would enrich all of us. Stealing away someone's good life would do needless damage."
The Euthanatos thought her other question. Who am I? Do I even know myself? Is there a danger in revealing my nature? Am I ready to deal with what I am so soon after discovering part of it?
"As to who I am..." Igor smiled for a moment, before replying with a subtle sigh. "I guess that is a fair question. Not one I like to answer. The answer still confuses me."
The Russian let his cryptic comment hung in the air for a few moments, while he gathered his thoughts. What would be a proper answer? One he could afford?
"I am the giver of good death. The tamer of madness. What do you know of the people that call themselves mages?"
Their bodies were still very close, never having pulled apart very far after the brief embrace. In the background, some shouting and excitement sounded, quite unrelated to the fireworks. Igor gave a fleeting thought to the immense potential for chaos that was building up here tonite. Some pockets of chaos would be expected to burst out during the evening. This sounded just like one.
"Mages..?" she echoed his word.
The crooked smile still lent a bright air to her expression but her eyes were not smiling now. She seemed more composed; too proud a creature to react to implied threats or power plays with an immediate display of aggression or escalation. She just let the smile hang in the air, seeing unconcerned.
"It's funny. I'd imagined long robes and wands and complicated chalk circles on the floor. I had heard rumours but... maybe my education has been lacking..I assume that you don't plan on telling any of the mortals what you know?"
The tone was still light, but unmistakeably more cautious now. She was closing up like a fan behind her eyes, however soft or intimate the voice.
"I think you are more than just that." she said thoughtfully. "When you first spoke to me I thought you must be either very brave, very stupid or very powerful. You are brave, maybe the rest as well. You are European, somewhere from the Eastern Bloc. Your manners could use a little training. even my closest friend never dared to ask me the questions you have done," she said, faintly reproachful.
'Friend' was single, past tense. "You spend a lot of time on your own brooding. You think about deep things but inside you are uncertain. You are very earnest. Maybe you even write bad poetry?"
She traced his cheekbone with a fingertip, probably because she sensed his unease. The touch was featherlight and more. Igor blinked at the touch and barely refrained from backing off from her hand. It was a reflex. Closeness was not something he was used to. Specially not with a stranger.
"I think you had come to me to ask me to teach you how to -live-. Strange. Are you really not always this morbid..? My name is Di, ironic I know. Tell me a joke, Mage."
Igor frowned at her demand. Strange woman, but able to deal with stranger situations it seems. I have to match her guts, once for once, it seems.
"I won't reveal your nature to mortals, if it worries you. There are stranger beings hiding in the crowd tonite anyway. Maybe there is some I can teach you and there is some you can teach me. Do you have the guts to share some of your soul, Di?"
"You never felt the need to be understood by one not of your kind?"
The question hung in the air, teasing and fundamental at the same time.
"But I never wrote bad poetry, unfortunately."
There was a definite humourous tone to his words. His words and his attitude slowly gained a lightness that was lacking a few moments before.
"I was a cheerful child, but life has forced upon me hard events. I grew up in Russia's worse period. And I became a Mage, surprisingly, without knowing what I was getting into. But I am learning. You can say tonight is a learning experience."
Again, the fleeting smile. A joke... she wanted to hear a joke.
"Hmmmm... A Russian housewife called a repairman and asked for someone to come to her house and fix her refrigerator. 'Let's see, the soonest I can send someone over is in... two and a half years..' was the repairman's reply. The housewife was thoughtful for a few seconds before asking: 'Would that be in the morning or the afternoon?'. Curious the repairman asked her: 'Does that make a difference?' and to that the housewife replied: 'Sure it does, I also have the plumber coming in that day...'."
Taking a very stereotyped Russian accent, Igor added sadly, "I am not very good storyteller."
Diane laughed, and shook her hair back.
"Not at all. I love Russian humour. Its so black. I'm just relieved you have a sense of humour.. because .. I don't know. I think its important."
Igor smiled openly.
"I do have a sense of humour, it just been out of use for years now. Irony and sarcasm filled in in the meantime. But it's probably there, somewhere."
"That's fine. Irony and Sarcasm are your friends," her face lit up again with a quick smile and she leaned up to rest her elbows lightly on his shoulders. "The world is going to hell in a handbasket and we have grandstand seats. Try to laugh more.. I think it suits you! It's how we can live in such a miserable bloody world!" Then, "Even if its only to laugh at yourself..."
This time her eyes seemed honest but the tone was light. Was this serious, or was she still just playing? Did it even matter...?
"I think you should know," she said, "That the last time someone asked me if I had guts, he wanted a literal demonstration. Maybe I don't have a soul to share.. maybe everything is just a mask on top of a mask and at the bottom there is nothing?"
Igor's reply was assured and confident in contrast to the uncertainty that gripped Diane's last sentence.
"Rest assured that you do have a soul, nothing can take that away from you. No matter how many masks you manage to pile on top of it, down deep, there is a fire that won't die. Though I don't know the nature of the bond that traps it within a dead body."
Igor gaze turned toward a distant point over the horizon.
"We all have a soul, and we crave, starve for something as immaterial as happiness. You, I and all of them..", with a motion that encompassed all the onlookers around them, "we are all the same deep inside. We just live it differently. Different paths, different choices. ", he gave the vampire a meaningful look, empty of any judgement.
She met his gaze quietly and nodded, the whisper of a smile playing across her lips. Why was the uncertainty that he had been sure was in her voice not reflected in her eyes? Was this just some game for her? He had felt so sure...
"How odd. I really think you care. Why do you care, Mage? Why do you think it matters...?" Genuine curiosity. "I don't understand why you would care about -me-..."
Igor was taken aback by Diane's question, he gathered his thoughts for a moment, in order to explain something that seemed obvious to him.
"How could I not care? I gaze upon your soul and I see a good person with a good... life. A bit troubled, just like I am. You are not a stranger in the crowd anymore. Them, I can force myself not to care about."
"Good?" her lips twitched. "Mother Teresa is good. Reality check? I'm a -vampire-. I drink blood. I hunt mortals. Sometimes I do things that are not good in any way at all.." She chuckled, as another thought occurred. "But coming from someone who believes killing can be justified.. maybe all the definitions get a little lax. I think .. this sounds stupid.. its like suddenly meeting a guardian angel!"
The Russian laugh sounded more like a bark, as it was sudden and and short.
"A guardian angel? More like an angel of death. There is a group of mages that like to think of themselves as guardian angels actually. You got the wrong guy for the job... "
There was a smile now that would not leave his normally cold features.
"Good and evil are not simple concepts, if they absolutely exist and aren't simply a human visualization." Igor quietly chuckled at the imagery of him as a guardian angel.
Igor plunged deeper to look at her soul. His eyes focusing on hers, reading her heart. Di was everything but an idealist. She was too honest. Some hidden gleeful deceit was sleeping lightly in some dark recess of her soul also. Many things he could read, some he recognized, some he could not. A touch of fear, a stronger rush of excitement, a bit of awe or wonderment. And lying under all this, an omnipresent hunger, lending strength to bright and dark emotions alike. A strange creature indeed. But his curiosity was only more aroused.
This time the vampire looked away, "I... don't know. I had never met anyone who knew what I was and was not afraid. You are asking me if I have the guts to make myself vulnerable..? You understand that I could never even think of talking like this to kindred. They would use it."
The Russian's reply was soft. "I don't know the rules your kind plays, but I understand vulnerability. I am not here to exploit it. Just to understand, learn and... share?"
"You want to know about my life? Or is that less interesting than immortality?"
"Who you are is what interests me. Everything, even immortality, is only a facet of that. What are your dreams and your hopes now?"
"My dreams?" a flicker of mischief danced in her eyes. "I want the world in my pocket! A silk pocket from Versace or Chanel., I think. Maybe Vivian Westwood. If I could have what I wanted then why not take the best...? I want to dance in the ballroom at Tiffanys! Shall we get a couple of flights and be there for tomorrow night?" Her voice dropped a tone lower, more intimate. "Would you even dare?"
Igor smiled for a moment at the proposition, but his tone conveyed a certain resignation toward his situation.
"That would surely give me great pleasure and let me forget about my cares for a while. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in something unpleasant and I won't flee from it. If you are really serious about an escapade with a cold Russian fellow, ask me again in a week or two..."
Then, a note of hesitation, before he capitulated to the magic of the moment.
"You can probably find me at the Klub if you need. Just tell the noisy and rude barman where 'the blond dumb Ruskie' can reach you."
"As for hopes.." her laugh was soft, bitter. "I hope to ... survive. I don't want to be like the others and fall into despair and death from inside. I want.. more control. I need people, papers, money, status.... That's how it is. You are what you control. I want to watch the world change and know that I could have anyone.. licks, kine, lupines.. grovelling at my feet! Is that a hope or a dream?"
Igor's eyes turned to ice and his tone conveyed a seriousness that was absent up to now.
"Lupines? Werewolves? What do you know about the wolves?"
Diane shrugged.
"They hate us. No idea why. They've already knocked off a couple of licks even in the last month and it's getting worse. Only the very toughest or well prepared vampires can even think of standing up to them. I figure -maybe- I could see one off, if it was alone and wasn't too strong willed. I'd rather not chance it. So.. I'm sorry if they are friends of yours, but they're the reason it hasn't been safe for us to even walk the bloody streets at night."
She studied his face, reading the change.
"You've had some problem with them as well?"
Igor's face was dark as he answered.
"No friends of mine. Enemies full of rage and a deep craving for revenge, even if it means bringing even more death and destruction in the balance.", replied the Russian mage
Diane was thoughtful for a moment after the mage's reply, before returning on her original topic...
"My dreams and my hopes? I... hope to survive," she admitted, "Without having to surrender my soul in service to another vamp. It's.. not very likely though. Really it would be wise for you to be careful of them.We can be very perilous and many of the others would kill or control you without a second thought. For the power. Hell, I'd have considered it... but.. " Diane didn't finish the sentence. The tone was faintly apologetic.
An intuition just insinuated itself into Igor's mind. A question that needed to be asked...
"Tell me about the Carousel, Diane...."
"The Carousel.." her eyes turned back to his face, considering a response. "It's a place we sometimes gather. Probably somewhere you should avoid. Where some of the most powerful gather, Mage. It can be... " she could think of only one word that really quite fit. "weird. He is rather unbalanced. Why do you ask?"
"I felt a forbidding evil and an aura of madness ensnaring the carousel and thought you might know the nature of it.", Igor replied, his eyes straining to see the Carousel and its myriad of lights in the distance.
"He is very mad," she agreed. This was the word she had been trying to avoid. "I... hadn't realised it was so strong that it could be felt. I always thought a lot of it was just him posturing and that underneath he was really one of the sharpest of them all. Maybe your senses are better."
Igor shrugged at this. "Madness is a relative term. Someone's wisdom might be someone else's insanity. But the feeling coming from the Carousel is very strong. Be careful, lest its aura corrupts you..."
The warning was spontaneous and had the dread foreboding of a prophecy. She seemed to realise that this didn't quite constitute an explanation and shrugged, a trace apologetically.
"Mage, none of my elders are what you might term sane, and they tend to decide social dynamics between them. Here in Santa Cruz, we live or die by the whim of a madman and the carousel is his throne room. Sort of... She looked back up into his face and her eyes were laughing. teasing
"You said you could destroy me," she whispered. "But I could control you body, soul and mind... if you asked me very nicely of course. You would never need to worry or be alone or be uncertain of anything ever again..."
For an uncomfortable flicker of time, it almost seemed a tempting offer. Her eyes were pools of colour that invited him to let them swallow him up. The Russian's entrancement seemed to last for an eternity before his will slowly unknotted himself from Diane's eyes as she teasingly let him go. Igor's survival instincts kicked in and his eyes became weary as he realized fully for the first time the power of the creature in front of him. He almost let himself forget. His body stiffened for a moment. He looked carefully at the woman in front of him.. searching for long moments, looking at her face, her eyes, her lips. And slowly, his eyes relaxed and the moment of tension passed away.
"Why haven't you done it already? If you hunger for control... ? Are you hungering more for someone to understand and share?"
"It would be so easy.." she said slowly. "You are almost asking me to do it as a favour, although you don't know it. I could offer you what you wanted. A taste of immortality. You would be able to feel the obsession, feel the blood, feel the rage, watch our society from the inside.. and then when you had enough it could end and you would be mortal again. If that's what you are. It would have been so easy for me to put it to you like that, and you might have asked me to give you that glimpse because it would answer all your questions. I don't know why I won't. I.. just think it would destroy you. That would be like destroying myself. Don't ask me why. I don't know why. Maybe you're right. Maybe I need to talk to someone who isn't trying to use me..."
"I said I had killed and it is true. It was an incredible feeling, Mage. Nothing compares to blood.. and nothing compares to killing. But.. I don't know if I will do it again. I had to see though. You do see that? I had to find out..."
A cloud of sadness touched Igor's features...
"I killed, many, many times. It makes you feel powerful, but unfortunately, it takes away part of your soul. Mine was black before I came here to know myself. Now, I'm starting to heal. I'm starting to feel again. It's painful and I mourn. I remember my first kill. The feeling... I can relate to that. It's almost addictive. But trust me. It kills you inside. Little by little. Until you don't feel anymore. You wake up one day with blood on your hands and empty inside. That day, you are dead. Try to avoid that if you can."
"Maybe," her voice was clipped. Again he was sure he heard that uncertain note in it. This time her eyes were more distant, troubled. "I mean.. I know, I can feel that. But we have different instincts. If you cared about everyone it would drive you mad, wouldn't it? If you let the instinct drive you, you never have to worry about it. Its like a battle between instincts and control. Funny.. I'd never really thought about it... not like that."
"A battle between the beast and the woman?", Igor suggested.
"We do call it the Beast." she said slowly. "So.. maybe yes. Can we change the subject?"
Diane looked up for his eyes instinctively. "Maybe that's the passion you so admire? It's part of the price, Mage..." she trailed off and just looked at him.
Spontaneously, Igor's hand softly caressed Diane's cheek. Smooth and cool. "I'm Igor, by the way... 'Mage' sounds quite alien to me."
Finally a more certain smile coloured her expression again and she covered his hand with her own. "It suits you. Nice to meet you, Igor."
Igor emitted a brief chuckle. An alien noise coming from him.
"Suits me? I think it is a bad name. Totally Russian, cold and hard. I'm thinking of changing it. Maybe something like Silvester."
The vampire laughed aloud, enough to turn a couple of heads.
"Like the cat and the canary!"
The Russian looked mystified by Diane's comment. Trying to pierce the humour in it, but failing because he lacked the American culture.
"Like the cat and the canary? There is a famous animal named Silvester? I was thinking more along the lines of Silvester Stallone, the slayer of communist dogs. I saw all three Rambo movies.", there was a slight tone of humouristic irony as he looked at Di's face for a smile.
She maintained a straight face and nodded to this.
"Oh.. Stallone, of course. I can see the similarities."
Her eyes danced and she admitted, "I only saw the first film myself. I was a bit put off by all the blood. Can you imagine?"
The Euthanatos smiled at that, before adding, in a more serious tone, "I seen enough blood to shame Rambo. Aren't we both strange paradoxes, in our own ways?"
"You are supposed to be teaching me to be alive, not me teaching you to brood. But we have both a weight upon our soul."
"I.. yes.." If she was shaken, she recovered quickly and the smile turned wicked. "I'm not doing a very good job, am I?"
The distance between them closed again. If she had been still breathing, he might have been able to feel her breath against his cheek.
"Maybe your problem is that you think too much? Life won't lay itself in your lap on a plate. You have to go out and find your own happiness, if you like, or passion. Its something you can learn. Being miserable is the easiest thing in the world... You need a girlfriend or something to get your priorities in order." she grinned, bright with mischief. "What is it that you are really looking for?"
He was thoughtful for a moment...
"I am not miserable, simply questing. And.. a girlfriend? There is a girl I care for and we have sex together. I never thought about her as a girlfriend though..."
He seemed thoughtful for a few more seconds before dismissing the thought and adding...
"I have to know who I am and what I want before I can find my own happiness. Otherwise, it's simply running away from questions that will come haunting me wherever I hide. Better deal with them now." Diane gave him a faintly disbelieving look and nudged him in the shoulder with a pale fingertip. "Well" she said "Its nice to know that romance isn't completely dead!"
She seemed to find his attitude very amusing. "When I was alive, if anyone I had been sleeping with had spoken about me like that they would have been lucky to have lived to regret it!"
Somehow, he didn't entirely doubt this. The mage thought about his comment for a few seconds before grasping the rudeness that seemed to have shocked the vampire.
"I care about her too much. Don't mistake my words for indifference. Her life is a bad one and it would be mercy to allow her to start again. But I am flawed. I can't bring myself to do it." A few moments of hesitation. "But it ain't love. I loved once. She was killed. I watched, helpless while she died. Can you feel love?"
Diane hesitated for a moment...
"I don't think so. I mean, I don't really know. I don't think it can ever end well for mortals who get caught up. I met a man the other day I really liked. But he's slated to be killed if I can't think of something, and even if I that may not be much better... But we don't go in for sex. That dies when the body does. There's only blood, really. Maybe love is for the living... But one thing I will tell you.. if you spend all your life looking for who you are then you may just find that by the time you find out, there isn't much else left. People won't wait, the world won't wait." She seemed more concerned, "Don't waste your life... No-one can soulsearch 24 hours a day. But for what it's worth, I hope you find what you are looking for."
"There is wisdom in your vision. You give me much to think about tonite. Maybe a few hints about being alive. Thanx...", he said, smiling and thoughtful. "I'm in search of myself. I just learned that reality is what you make of it. I'm a worker of miracles it seems. I am a reality architect. Not an easy concept to adapt to. I'm lost and confused. And to top it off, I'm being drawn in a war that we seemingly can't win. That's why I had to escape tonite. A war of mages. A war of reality. A war of madness."
The vampire listened with a brief nod and focussed on his face.
"Miracles? You have some God that tells you who to kill and then gives you the power to work miracles?"
Igor shook his head... "No, there are no gods that I know of. Simply a shard of ... cosmic awareness in all of us. Some of us are more aware than others."
"Do these miracles include things like.. I don't know. It would be a miracle if I could see the sun again. Well, without being horribly burned. That sort of miracle?"
Igor looked at her for a moment, before embracing her in his arms. His eyes slowly closed. The landscape around them slowly faded, becoming immaterial, ghostlike... the voices and the noise more distant. The colors dimmer. And almost imperceptibly, somewhere else mingled with these ghosts. A small room with four dirty walls. Night gave way to morning. The ghosts of the two realities battled for a while, before the dirty room engulfed the Boardwalk scene and materialized solidly. They were no more in Santa Cruz. The smell was decrepit and the air was humid and cold. A small dirty window filtered the sunlight that fell in the room. A bum slept on a small cot, snoring. Sunlight! She struggled in his arms fitfully, in the grip of some primal terror. Sunlight. He felt a tremor run down her body as she struggled to contain it and her fingers closed on his arms more tightly, like a child that was afraid of the dark. Slowly, Igor and Diane started to move. They were being drawn outside...
"Igor. I can't. I can't do this..."
Igor's voice whispered comfortingly, "It won't hurt you. We are not really there".
She closed her eyes and clung onto him. He didn't let go. After a moment she nodded.
"Alright. I'm sorry.. sometimes it's .. " she didn't finish that sentence.. "I mean, I trust you. This is.. incredible."
She opened her eyes again and steeled herself. And soon, they were hovering outside. In part of a Russian city. A sprawl that extended as far as the eye could see. Misery filled the streets and the air was oppressive. The sky was partly cloudy, but a bright morning sun shone.
<Ok... Mechanics. Igor is using Correspondence effect to shift his spatial perceptions to his old apartment in Moscow (rating 2 correspondence effect). It's about 10 am there. Then, he is using a visual correspondence to shift his perceptions outside the apartment. He is sharing his perception with Diane (diff. +1). I got 2 and 3 successes which should do the trick.>
The sunlight felt bright against their faces where the clouds parted. Her grip tightened on his arm again and then relaxed and he could see her expression shift to wonderment.
"I.. don't believe it."
The moment was long, and then reality shifted again, back to the crowds in Santa Cruz.
"Thank you." were all the words she had.
The sound of the Boardwalk filled the air again... softly at first, but with more and more enthusiasm with each passing moment. The silence that hung between them for a minute was deep in emotion as Igor let himself be filled with her awe and wonder.
"I am a maker of miracles. Yes, some of those miracles I can give. You also glimpsed at my world, my reality. One day, you will have to show me some of your world, Diane..."
"You are very brave. Maybe one day I will try."
She looked at him for a long time before speaking again. "I don't know that I understand but I hear what you are saying. You have just learned something about yourself that draws you into our world, away from the mortals. It gives you power. You are confused because it's very new and the rules are different. It sometimes seems very oppressive and you have to escape in any way you can, but you know that eventually it will come back to you. You're caught up in a war that was started by other people..."
"That sums it up pretty very much, my lady", giving Diane a quick nod.
Her mouth quirked in a crooked smile but there was sympathy bound in it.
"Maybe you were right to come to me. In some ways, we are not so different after all."
The tone of his reply was full of sincerity and respect, "That's my feeling also."
"Hmm.. this war. A war for reality? I've seen war and it isn't very pretty. That sort of war? What will happen if you lose?" A second thought struck her, at least as worrying. "Or what if you win, Igor?"
She seemed genuinely interested in what he said, as if the natural wariness had fought a losing battle with the curiosity and had no strength left to even raise its head.
"If I loose, I die and will have to wait until the wheel brings me back to continue my mission. If I win, we get rid the reality of an abomination that should never have been in the first place. But no media coverage, no medals, no additional power. Just the pleasure of knowing you saved the world from the bad guys."
"I presume winning is important to you, or else why fight? But what do you personally want out of life. What would make you happy.. it doesn't matter if it is something small. Drink, drugs, music, girls... I mean, you're still human in many ways?"
"Winning is not important to me. The stakes are not mine to start with. There is just no other option. Winning or loosing. And I can't afford to loose. Period. My happiness, I thought, was to get away from all this and start a new and simple life. That is not an option anymore. For now, happiness is doing things I feel good about. I feel good about talking to you. I am happy for now. You helped me share some of my soul."
The vampire nodded. "It's a strange thing. I was always proud of the fact that I didn't waste time philosophising and soulsearching but just tried to get on with things and get things done. But I don't remember the last time I was this happy. Or the last time I enjoyed talking to someone this much."
A wave of unease gripped Igor as he literally blushed. The picture was very peculiar. His was not a face made for blushing. After a moment, he dared a comment.
"And I feel more alive I have felt in ages."
"I think perhaps we will speak again, maybe I'll come to the Klub sometime. It might be the nearest we ever get to escaping in this life, Igor."
"This escape will be a precious moment... And I would enjoy sharing some more. The Klub or leave a message in the personals to your guardian angel, I'll be around."
She nodded quietly and turned towards the railings, leaning back in his arms a moment, silently. Her attention was caught up in another flare of pyrotechnics and by the time she looked round again he was already gone and there was no indication that he had ever been there at all.

July 4th, 11:37 pm

He had to keep moving tonite. Staying too long at one place would doom him. Slip around like a shadow. Already, Diane entranced him for too long. Too long for his own safety and maybe hers.
The energy of chaos was building up. Everywhere, in every shadows was a shred of the power of Entropy. Building up unchecked. Hunters stalked the city. Emotions ran high. This was the 4th of July... A night of freedom, of liberty.
His feet had a life of their own as they carried him through the streets of Santa Cruz tonite. A few bums and homeless were partying in a dark alley. Their life almost meaningful tonite. But tomorrow, they will go back to being human wrecks without hopes.
Magick danced at the edge of his perception, teasing but always there. Even his silence was filled with noise. Sounds of laughter, fighting, screaming, singing. A host of sounds crowded in his head. Igor smiled to himself.

July 5th, 12:01 am

The first thing Igor noticed when approaching Coffeetopia is the giant sequoia tree. Built around this tree is a coffeehouse, lights burning inside. But, the real action is outside. A buffet laden with food has been set up outside, and a young man is sitting at a register.
Near the buffet table is a table, garlanded in red, white and blue, up on which rests several silver thermoses, presumably filled with varying flavors of coffee. A large banner suspended from the table
proclaims "BOTTOMLESS CUP."
Around the coffeeshop is a ribbon, compelling people to enter through one opening. In this opening, there isn't much of a line yet, and people are either sitting at small wooden tables, or are talking with each other.
The band's playing a slow song right now, just instrumental-no vocals, and some patrons are slow-dancing. Others, meanwhile, are sitting around various tables, some of them playing chess, and others of them talking, or playing cards, or reading books from inside the coffeehouse.
There were about 250 guests or so hanging around the sequoia, and they are milling about, but some are reading. In a corner, two UCSC students, their noses pierced, seem involved in a game of chess.
Manning the entry point is a redhead dressed in a black midriff, top, and black leather pants. Running down the pants leg is a blue stripe stylized with white stars, and her black leather jacket sported a similar stripe. As each guest paid the $3.00 cover charge, she gave that guest a stylized mug, and smiled sweetly.
Quickly looking at the crowd, the Euthanatos could sense it held more than its share of mystery tonite. Again, like at the Boardwalk, a few individuals stood out by their uniqueness in this small crowd.
A woman was directing the fireworks in the back of the café. She exuded a sizable aura and her fireworks had a touch more magick than usual. A mage.
Again, he was reminded of the danger of meeting a Verbena tonite
This was a night for wonders and for learning it seemed. The Russian found an empty seat and simply sat, his eyes wandering around the place. The night had a touch of madness and the Coffeetopia didn't escape it. Too many mysteries... . He looked around a sensed a number of other mages. A very surprising number for a crowd of this size.
Near the dancing area, a small woman, whom Igor hadn't seen before, who radiated power-she was short, and seemed to be rather perky...she was spending much of her time dancing, and chatting up the patrons.
And more and more, Igor became aware of something else. Permeating the entire clearing is a feeling of gentle revelry-in fact, he could sense the currents of emotion around him, as if the clearing itself was feeling these things as much as the patrons. The mage frowned unconsciously. A night of mystery.
Sitting by herself, a tall woman dressed exotically. A mage but at the same time, not a mage. Certainly, she wasn't mortal. In fact, he could almost sense the weight of the years, whether real or potential, weighing down her auras, as if she found a way to cheat the Great Cycle. A night of wonders.
A moment later, a man pulled up a chair at the immortal's table table. They exchanged a few words, which was lost in the buzz of the crowd, before the man sat down at the woman's table. She smiled, and pushed her plate to the center of the small table. Igor was surprised to recognized the man. He was the flute playing mage the Euthanatos noticed earlier at the fireworks. Strange beings attracted each other it seems.
His curiosity piqued, the Russian looked at them, trying to make out the words they said to each other. And slowly, the sound of their voices seemed to reach him, more clearly by the moment.
"Welcome." The woman said.
"Say, you see that guy over there in the funny-colored trenchcoat? The green one. Tall, with Slavic features... he was staring at you just now, and there's something rather odd about him. I can't quite put my finger on it, but it bothers me...", the mage commented.
The immortal frowned, but did not look over at the man her companion indicated. "Yes, I saw him. I do not know him, but he may be following me. I'm afraid that I have not only friends in this city."
He smiled, a bit sadly. "And I'm in more or less the same situation, actually." He glanced over at the Slav, "He could just be a harmless weirdo, but I wonder..."
"Indeed? And here I thought that Santa Cruz was a quiet, pleasant town," The woman smiled as she spoke.
It wasn't clear if she was being sarcastic or not.
The mage leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and squinted at Igor. Lifting his right hand, he rested his jaw on the base of his palm; all in all, an unremarkable pose, save perhaps for the fact that his long fingers had covered his right eye. The left one continued to squint.
The woman watched the strange posture of her companion with surprise- she seemed to recognize the posture. She couldn't resist making a comment. "So, does Balor's eye show you his true form?"
The mage sat back up and gave the woman a strange look. "Balor's eye? I'm not sure what you mean, but since you ask... I don't think he's dangerous, at least not in the way I had feared. But he's unstable somehow, uncontrolled, you know? Like a leaky battery. Perhaps we should both steer clear of him."
She was thoughtful for a moment before replying, "I'm not sure I understand. What about him is unstable? Do you mean emotionally? Or perhaps in a spiritual sense?"
The man twisted his mouth around, thinking. "He has power, but perhaps not fully under his control. Like a kettle with a loose lid, the steam escaping outwards." He shrugged. "That is just my impression, I am not an expert in that sort of thing."
He regarded the woman, his mouth twisting into a half-smile. "Truth is though, I'm not sure if I should be more worried about him or you -- who are you, anyway?"
She laughed, "You have nothing to fear from me. I am merely a musician who was left without an audience. And an old Irish lady who makes reference to stories of the past unaware that few others will recognize them. That is what I meant by Balor's eye. Covering one eye is a magical gesture, although it is usually combined with standing on one foot. It's also called a Crane stance. I did not intend to make fun, just making connections to the past. What of you? A silently playing piper. A unknowing user of magical gestures. One who likes, yet does not like the exuberance of a crowd. Surely there is more."
"Oh, there is, yes. But I don't think this is the place to discuss it, and it's not a pleasant tale in any case. At least not the last few chapters." He regarded her carefully. "You seem like a nice old Irish lady, even if you don't look all that old, so I'll tell you that not all is well in Santa Cruz. Dark things walking in the night, and so on... you'd be wise to steer clear of odd characters like that one, or like myself for that matter."
She smiled, "There are two characteristics I have that nearly all old Irish ladies possess. The first is that we like a good story- whether it be happy or sad is not as important as its quality. I hope that one day I will have a chance to hear yours. The other is that we know that evil waits in the night- and sometimes in the clear light of day. But instead of hiding from it and pretending it doesn't exist, we seek to learn the nature of the evil in order to fight it and protect our families from it."
She continued more seriously, "Santa Cruz has perhaps more than its share of darkness, but it also has more than its share of light. It is in my nature to seek out both- to learn how to defeat one and how to bolster the other." "If that man is who I suspect he is, I will have to deal with him sooner or later. And I would rather face him with knowledge of who he is and what he wants than be surprised unawares."
The Euthanatos cleared his throat as she finished her sentence. He had silently slipped up to their table, somehow unnoticed. His brown eyes met hers for a moment before gesturing her to wait a moment before reacting or saying anything. His attention became focused on the other mage.
The woman rose to her feet as Igor suddenly appeared before her; she was not used to people sneaking up on her, especially those she was keeping an eye on. She stood still, watching Igor intently as he and her companion exchanged pleasantries.
"Tell me which tradition you belong to, mage. Falsehood is not an option." A strange demand asked with a cool intensity.
"Nor is it my intent." His interloper smirked, looking rather less surprised than the situation might have warranted. "I didn't think I could notice you without noticing me back, and I was wondering if you'd come over." He glanced sidelong at the immortal, then continued.
"Since you ask so nicely, I belong to a group that some call Dreamspeakers. And now I'll ask you the same in return: who are you, and what do you want?" He met the Russian's gaze with a calm stare.
Igor simply nodded and visibly relaxed with a sigh.
"Strange night. I am Euthanatos. Very interested in the cycle of the wheel of life and death. And surprises on top of surprises, I meet two different people that found different ways to slip out of it.", nodding to Dearbhail.
"I was rude, but I am not a diplomat, even in my best days. Nor am I a danger. My staring was simply out of curiosity. No threat or spying."
Once it became clear that Igor was not a threat, she sat down again. "If you are not an enemy, then please join us." She moved the plate of food a bit closer in his direction.
A moment of silence, allowing him to gather his thoughts.
"As for what I want... I am curious. About you,", looking at the woman with a disturbing intensity, "and about the war that is raging in Santa Cruz, if you heard", the Russian said, looking at the Dreamspeaker.
The mage chuckled. "You could say I've heard, yes. Although I'm not the best person to ask about it." He craned his neck, scanning the crowd. "There are others, though I don't see any of them here. And you, sir? Were you worried I would answer Verbena just now, or are you with them?"
The strange woman listened carefully to what the two mages had to say. She did not seem to be having any trouble following the conversation. She had things she could add, but for the moment, it was wiser to listen.
"If Verbena would have been your answer, I think only one of us would have walked out of here. They dragged me in a war I didn't want. Tried to bribe me, manipulate me, threaten me and finally kill me. Things I usually find unpleasant and quite unsettling. Anything you heard that you are willing to share? The choristers are under siege back at the temple.", Igor simply replied.
The Euthanatos looked at Simon's serene face with a frown.
"I envy you your detachment. I'm here to escape it all. If only for a night."
The Dreamspeaker laughed, and there was a grim, unpleasant tone in his laughter. "I seem detached, do I? If I give that impression, I'm afraid it's a sham." He smiled faintly. "Or a defense mechanism, if you believe in that kind of thing. To tell you the truth, perhaps more than any- but no, never mind. You say the Chorus is under siege? I will pass the news on, thank you."
After a moment, Igor turned his attention toward the woman. "I feel you managed to escape the cycle somehow. I find it extremely stimulating. I'm used to seeing a limited number of options, and tonight, I learn there are some I never even imagined. Seems my vision of life and death is not up to date and I would be curious to know more about you and your kind, my lady." He finished off his sentence with a small bow of the head and a discreet smile in his brown eyes.
As Igor turned and addressed the immortal, their other companion watched the beautiful young woman who called herself old, studying her closely and with a faint smirk on his lips.
"Before I answer your question, I would like to know who I am sharing a table with. I am Dearbhail MacKenna."
The Russian acknowledged the demand with one of his usual nods. "I am Igor."
Dearbhail considered the grim man for a moment before responding. "No one can truly escape the cycle of life, death and rebirth- and indeed, why would one want to? To continue on while family and friends move onto the next world and are ultimately reborn in this one. Who would wish for such a fate? No, I have not escaped it, but am trapped in it. Unable to move on and continue my journey."
The Russian frowned at that, taken aback. "Your condition is very peculiar then. My interest is increased tenfold. How did you become trapped and you are willing to escape it? Maybe I could help you find an exit."
The reply was straightforward, with no trace of irony... only a tint of compassion.
At this, the Dreamspeaker grimaced a bit and shook his head very slightly, looking at Dearbhail.
Dearbhail considered for a moment, "I have spent a great deal of time thinking about the reasons. I have heard many theories, but do not know which, if any, are true. I do not think that something like is accidental, there must be a reason for my continued existence. Therefore, I will not leave of my own choice until my purpose has ended."
The Russian stared at her intensely for a few moments, a cold and distant mask hiding his feeling and thoughts. "There is sensible wisdom in your vision. I also think the world is richer by your presence and the time of your Death has not come yet, even if your life has been longer than most. Do you know
anything about your kind and what made you what you are?"
Dearbhail continued, "But it seems that my story has less urgency than does your own. I have some knowledge of your kind. Of the war you fight and the methods you use to do so. But I am not aware of any battle being fought in Santa Cruz. Perhaps you would be willing to enlighten me?"
The Russian looked a bit uneasy, unsure if he should adopt a secrecy or not. "There is a war of mages, a war of reality. The Verbenas allied themselves with the lupines and brought into this world a demon of some kind. Immensely powerful. The other traditions oppose them, but the war is not going well for our side. Their summoning is an abomination and they are bound to loose control over it very soon. Their pride and overconfidence will be the death of many good people. Care to share some of your experience, Dearbhail?"
The Dreamspeaker nodded. "Sadly, what he says is what I know to be true as well. Do you plan on fighting the Verbena, Igor? You should speak with Davies if you do, I think..."
"I have no choice to fight. I have been dragged in this war, against my will. Who is Davies and where can I find?", the Euthanatos mage asked, his interest acute.
The Dreamspeaker nodded seriously. "Colonel Davies is the War Leader, an Akashic. Although from what little I know of him he seems to be a hard man to find, I am sure he would be interested in speaking with you. Do you have a phone number where messages can reach you, or something like that?"
Igor considered for a moment, before answering. "I tend to move around a lot. But I've been hanging around the Klub for the past few days now, so he could probably reach me there. If he asks around, someone might know where to find me. Just know that the place is being watched by the Verbenas and the wolves."
Dearbhail added, "I am surprised to hear that the Garou would bring such a thing into existence without being able to control it. What do they hope to gain?"
"They did not bring it into existence, I think. It is using them and the witches more than they are using it, using their sadness and rage. They are a great people, but they have been tortured and pushed into desperate measures to try and reclaim what belongs to them. That, at least, is my guess. I do not relish the thought of having to fight them, for more than one reason." The Dreamspeaker looked away, his face darkening.
The Euthanatos nodded at this before adding his two cents. "Although I am not well informed of all the details, the Dreamspeaker's comment coincides well with my own feeling of the situation. Desperation for the wolves and hunger for power for the Verbenas were the cards that were played to bring us in this situation."
Suddenly, a foreboding sense of danger hit Igor. Strong and cold. The Euthanatos turned his head in time to see a strange man enter the area. A mage of considerable power. An enemy. The man stopped and scanned the crowd with an intense stare. Passing over Igor without stopping.
Then, he spotted an empty table and moved toward it. The Euthanatos used this moment of distraction to best effect, slipping back into the night, leaving his two companions confused at his sudden departure.

Wednesday, July 5th, 1995, 2:56 p.m.

Last night seemed more like a dream than reality. Details slipped away from Igor's memories leaving hazy flashes. He was back into this war, engulfed once more in the Insanity. But he had decided to play by its rules a week ago and his commitment was final. There was no going back.
Today, he was going to humour the Madness. Roll the dices and see where it got him. Fight fire with fire. An eye for an eye.
Some sunlight filtered through to the corner where Igor sat. He was sitting on the ground, his back against a wall, his eyes closed. Some distance away, the Hollows gathered, discussing their futures and their options. Their future was bleak and their options non-existent. Some general once said that battles were won with morale and not with numbers. These had lost the next battle before it even happened. They had lost the war.
Different people deal differently with defeat. Some rebel against it, throwing all the anger, pain and fear they have left. Some other submit to it, beaten before the last battle with no hopes or dreams to feed their soul.
"We're dead. We're as good as dead. You saw how they got Grizzly? He burned and melted on the spot. Fuckin' vulgar if you ask me but they don't care anymore. They're not playing by the rules anymore. We're burning more and more Tass just trying to keep them out. They just laugh and try again later."
The voice was clearly desperate. And desperation spread like a plague in these situations. A few voiced their assent. They saw similar events or participated in some. This was not an unit preparing for battle, this was a group of deserters trying to find a way to get out of this alive.
"Maybe we could send someone to talk to them. We could tell them how we could help root out the Choristers if they leave us alone. I'm sure they will realize we are no more a threat and we could be useful allies."
Igor identified the voice as Mike's. It sounded more like a pleading than a serious proposal. Sadly, Igor heard two other voices agreeing with him.
"Yeah. Me I never cared all that much about stopping the Sunchild anyway. And we could give them some Tass. They could be interested and listen."
This time, it was Nadina. The Russian never got to know her much, but he knew she was fearful and easily intimidated. And these were very intimidating events. No, her shift of allegiance didn't come as a surprise to the Euthanatos. Not that he cared anyway...
Mike started to blurt out another comment when he was interrupted. The new voice was Bitchy's. Full of authority as usual. It sounded fully in control and confident.
"Mike, you might forget something. This plan to turn tail would sound great but for a fucking small detail. The furbacks want us DEAD. They don't want us out of the way, but completely annihilated. This is personal for them. Even IF you could talk your fuckin' way into deal with the verbs, the furbacks wouldn't stand for it for a second. Never. Ever. Period. Anybody else got something constructive to propose?"
A silence fell on the group of Hollows. Resignation settling in. They all knew the truth Bitchy's words pointed out. There was no arguing it. The lupines would never allow one of them to leave alive. Death was the only escape from this siege. Death or Victory but the later was way out of reach.
"We could prepare and rush them. Blast our way out of this and slip out of the city."
Roxy's comment didn't sound even remotely feasible to Igor. Desperate words for a desperate situation. The Russian couldn't refrain from smiling at the thought. Three or four Hollows running out. Using a lot of imagination, the Euthanatos couldn't imagine a scenario that didn't end up with three or four bums being cut into little pieces by angry lupines or some other unpleasant fate. A massacre.
Bitchy's reply was short and to the point.
"I said constructive. Anyone else?"
Sighing audibly, Igor got up and slowly walked toward the Hollows. Heads turned his way, watching him wearily approach their group. The Euthanatos looked into their eyes, trying to read their souls. They are afraid to die. They are desperate for any hope of surviving. The fear of death was everywhere. It was suffocating. Igor almost staggered from the weight of it. It was sad. This debilitating fear of the unknown. This terror of passing on to the next incarnation. They have been manipulating reality. They have been touched by their avatars. They should know better.
The Russian smoothly moved in front of the group. Bitchy looked at him, calmly trying to appraise his worth. Igor spied Spook from the corner of his eyes, the other Euthanatos sitting slightly away from the bulk of the group. Silence for a moment.
Igor decided to have mercy on them. To give them a hope. Something to try.
"I will try to contact the Choristers."
A few Hollows looked at each other, trying to read beneath the words. Spook looked at Igor, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, daring him to do anything useful. His words were meant to test Igor's resolve.
"You can't get out and the Verbs put a strong magickal barrier. You think you can punch through it? We tried and failed, my friend. And it's even worse since you slipped out last night."
Igor didn't reply nor falter. He just looked at Bitchy, waiting for a reply.
Bitchy was still silently appraising the Russian. Igor knew Bitchy's approval of the tentative was crucial if he needed to ask for Tass later, so he simply returned the stare, cool and confident. After a few moments, Bitchy gave him a slight nod.
"Do it."
Here the fun began. Maybe he was just foolish to try to win against mages that have been playing by these rules for years. Who was he? No, no time for self-doubt. Will was power. And doubt weakened the will.Returning the nod, Igor looked around for a comfortable place to sit. Seeing nothing better, he walked back toward his gloomy corner and slid down against the wall. This was a test of faith when his faith was anything but solid.But he needed to give them hope. Otherwise, they were dead already. It was not the time to give them a good death, even though their eyes pleaded for it. It was a time for magick.
Igor closed his eyes and concentrated. His breathing became slow and controlled. A strong sense of calm and peace slowly insinuated inside himself. He was barely aware of the shuffling sound as the Hollows moved closer to him, curiosity and hope fueling their inner fire.
Now, what was he supposed to do? Shape reality?
The Russian tried to remember all he was taught about the nature of reality and space. Something about space being an illusion, reality being a single point where everything was. You were everywhere are once, if you only knew how to look.
He also remembered the miracle he performed for Diane last night. It was intuitive. It just happened. He couldn't remember exactly how he achieved the effect.
His breathing became even deeper as he tried to visualize the garden inside the temple. He imagined himself being there and looking around, at the flowers and listening to the birds. But something wasn't quite right. It felt as if he couldn't grasp the image. It slipped beneath his will, oily and immaterial at the same time. He couldn't impose the image upon his senses. It distorted and wavered like the poor memory it was,unfocused.After a few moments, Igor stopped concentrating and the awareness of his surroundings returned.
His will was too weak or it had something to do with the Verbena preventing the Hollows from contacting anyone outside the Klub. In any case, he knew he wasn't going to achieve anything on his own. He needed more strength, more power, more will. After an eternity, he opened his eyes.
"I need Tass. Can't focus properly with the Verbenas' protection."
His voice was strangely hoarse as if strained from a great effort.
Wordlessly, Bitchy nodded at Pony who left toward the back of the Klub. The eyes of the people gathered around him now held a shred of hope. This hope was vital to them and Igor felt the weight of their lives upon his shoulders and his barely tested skills.
A few minutes later, Pony was back with a glass of scintillating water. The tass illuminated the area with a myriad of sparkling pinpoints of light. Fascinated, the Euthanatos took the glass carefully in his hands. A strange warmth diffused from the glass.
Igor broke his comtemplation of the tass to give Bitchy a questioning look. Here was tass. What am I supposed to do with it?
Bitchy smiled briefly and his voice carried a trace of amusement.
"Drink it, Ruskie.It's not 'Black's', but makes you feel weird all the same."
Taking a deep breath, Igor drank the glass, emptying it. The taste was strongly acidic.
For a few seconds, the Euthanatos discerned no effect, except for a queasy feeling in his stomach. And suddenly, a loud rhythmic sound assaulted his ears. The room became almost painfully bright. Igor staggered under this assault on his senses. It took him a full minute before he managed to overcome the feelings and bring the sensations under control. He could hear his own heartbeat clearly. His senses were suddenly much keener, probably a side-effect of the tass he consumed. A sense of power filled him, throbbed inside his soul. The feeling was exhilarating. He felt he could do anything if he but tried. He looked around, marveled by what he perceived. Everything pulsed with a strange identity.
Even light was not immaterial anymore, it acquired a strong substance. It filled the air with its presence. All the Hollows were framed by a ghostly halo. Bitchy's was the brightest of them all and it somehow linked with an object he hid in his back pocket.
As his senses filled him with marvel, he noticed a strange feeling of floating up and looking down upon the Hollows staring straight ahead. It was peculiar and no one seemed to pay any attention to him. They were all focused on something that was happening beneath him. He looked down.
Vertigo hit him. The floor was a few feet beneath him. He was floating up, about 5-6 feet off the ground. He felt out of control. The tass was uncontrolled and wild.
Below, he could see himself, unmoving against the wall. Igor wondered for a moment if he was not experiencing his death, but he knew, down deep, that the feeling was different. This was the Madness at its best. He laughed out a crazy and sharp laugh that was lost on the crowd below. Tame the Madness. He never thought it would be easy. And he was going to do it.
He closed his eyes and tried to focus his will. It was difficult, the feeling of floating around was a serious distraction and all the sounds that filled his mind with their clamor made concentration very difficult.
Igor focused his will, trying to tame the energy of the Tass that was coursing though his body, trying to canalize it, contain it, control it.
And suddenly, Igor was falling. As he was bringing the Tass' power into his control, the strings that kept him suspended broke. He fell back in his body.
Power pulsed under his will. The temple. He envisioned the temple. The garden started to take shape in his mind, fed by his memories of the place. But Igor could clearly see, in front of it, three layers of tinted glass. He could clearly see the patterns in the glass, ever changing. Two of them where of a dark shade of red, similar to seas of blood. The last one was a bright one, white and flawless.
The Euthanatos tried to see a flaw in the pattern, a place to slip. But the glass walls were strong and repulsed silently his attempts. After a while, his frustration built up unchecked. He unleashed his will and fury on the barriers. He rammed them with his soul, only to be held back violently by the blood. The shock was terrible and stunning. The feeling of power subsided with that last assault.
Igor painfully opened his eyes, at first not recognizing his surroundings and the strange faces staring intently at him. But it came back to him. The Hollows. The temple. The siege.
His head throbbed painfully. He closed his eyes again, trying to evade the pain.
"God, the fuckin' looser failed. Didn't make it. Wasted the tass. I knew he couldn't pull it off."
Skunkbutt's comment was cute short by a threatening reply from Spook.
"Shut up your big mouth Skunk. You stink. At least, the Ruskie is TRYING something."
A few grunts of agreement. Igor was dazed, but surprised to hear Spook take his side.
"I can do it. I need more tass.". Again, his voice was hoarse. But at least the pain slowly evaporated.
"Hey, don't waste any more juice on this joker!", Skunkbutt replied.
"Shut Up!", Bitchy warned him. "We'll give it one more try."
A subtle nod and Pony left. He was back a few moments later with a bigger glass, filled to the rim with more scintillating water.
His stomach openly disagreed with the proposal of drinking some more of that stuff, but Igor forced himself to drink the glass in a single pass. Again, the queasy feeling and soon, the heightened perception. This time however, he maintained enough control on what was happening inside him to avoid another out of body experience. That would make focusing slightly easier. Power rushed him. Exhilarating, almost out of control.
Once again, he focused his perception to see the temple and its garden. Once again, he felt the garden solidify behind the three layers of glass. This time, however, he kept his cool and examined the shifting patterns in the glass. Sometimes, the glass thinned here and thickened there. The structure was ever changing, even in motion. The Euthanatos felt confident he could find a momentary weakness in the pattern and slip through to the other side.
In front of the barriers, he stood, comtemplating and fascinated, waiting for an occasion that might never come. Patience, patience. The barriers thinned, but never enough and never all three at the same time. Igor quickly realized that the odds of the three layers thinning enough for him to slip through were very small. But this was his only chance.
Long minutes passed. It would never happen. Igor felt despair slowly gaining on him. He would never make it.
But just before he gave up, there it was... a small breach, already closing. The garden was clear and solid through it. The mage slipped his perceptions in the breach and anchored them in the garden. He was in. He made it!
The layers still felt like thin rubber and Igor knew that without the extra power the Tass gave him, he would never have punched through them, even with the event of a breach.
Inside the temple, the Euthanatos forced himself to expand his perceptions. Slowly at first, his knowledge of the temple expanded like a sphere. He was looking for Choristers, still alive behind the sieging army. The temple was a vast entity, somehow clearly larger that its external size. It was a confusing concept, but everything was possible with magick, right? Some rooms where huge and could contain half the temple in them. They defied spatial reality.
His perceptions also revealed a few Choristers spread around the temple, doing necessary menial chores. But no one he recognized from his previous visits. Now that he was here, he wasn't sure exactly what he was looking for. A leader of some kind probably. But how could he recognize him or her even if he saw them.
Slightly hesitant, he continued to expand his perception. Bigger and bigger. He came to know the temple layout better and better, sitting in the middle of his perception bubble.
But suddenly, he felt something that shocked him. His concentration faltered and the bubble of his perceptions burst into nothingness.
He was stunned by the revelation.
Reverend Joy. Weak but alive. Igor took so much for granted the death of the reverent that her presence was a profound shock. Tentatively, the Euthanatos extended his perceptions once more to cover the room where he felt the Reverend's presence. Another of those huge rooms that didn't quite fit in the normal pattern of spatial reality.
Here was what he was looking for. A leader to guide them and unite them. Now, all he had to do was communicate. Igor felt confident he could probably transfered the sound of his voice into the temple, now that he solidly anchored his perceptions there.
"I'm in. The Reverend is there, alive. I will try to get in touch with the Choristers there. I need to know how many people we have that are still operational."
His tone was sober and to the point. Bitchy's reply matched it.
"I got about seven good people left, including myself, plus you and Spook. Four of us can gig outside. The other three are too dusted to do anything but defend the Klub. The rest are dead."
Igor was shocked. Only a few days ago, he heard the Hollows could count over 20 core members. This war has been even more devastating for these people than he realized. So many deaths.
The Euthanatos gave a small nod. His vision was still floating in the temple. The overall effect of split perceptions was very unbalancing. It was like concentrating on a movie while your friend talked to you.
Igor felt powerful and omniscient. He could feel his surroundings clearly, his perception infinitely keener, a consequence of both the Tass and his magickal perception. Far away, but still very powerful, he could feel a ripple in the local reality. The barriers erected around the Klub were candles compared to the strength of this sun.
The ripple was severe and coming from the mountains. The Russian instinctively knew the Sunchild was the source of this disturbance. This unknown enemy. Now, for the first time, Igor could feel it, touch its overwhelming power.
He could find the Verbena's hiding place... their node. If the Traditions knew exactly where to strike, they might do critical damage to their enemies. He only had to hone on the center of the reality ripples; a child's play.
Quickly, the temple around him wavered and slowly dissolved while he concentrated on the source of the ripples, the hidden seat of power of the Verbena.
He could feel reality trying to slip beneath his will, but he was strong and focused. The Tass was still burning bright inside his soul. He could feel the connection taking place. He was slowly getting there. He was playing the game and winning. A smile started to form on his lips when the scream began.
Fire. His soul burned. His soul screamed in pain. Pain. Pain. The fire consumed him. His hopes, fears, ambitions... everything melted in an ultimate pain.
He crawled away... away from the pain and the fire. The hurt subsided some but he could still feel waves and waves of fire pouring through the connection he established. But there was something else. Something more than the fire. Someone else.
In his unending pain, there was someone else. The SunChild. Igor knew the Demon and the Demon knew Igor. Impossible to hide as he was left with is soul naked and the pain. Flee. Evil. The Fire. The Pain. Flee.
Igor's mind recoiled from the pain, barely in time before the SunChild could grab his soul. He could feel the demon clawing his way toward him as he fled elsewhere. Back to the temple. The pain and the presence disappeared as suddenly as they came. He was back in the temple. His terror quietened slowly.
The Euthanatos knew the demon, touched his soul. So totally Evil. A corrupting evil so immense and irresistible, it had to be expected the Verbena would get infected by it. He couldn't even imagine someone resisting to the strength of that evil.
This being was a devourer of souls. Utterly consuming them. Igor didn't even know it was possible to eradicate someone that completely. Nothing was left after the SunChild passed. It wasn't a giver of Death. It was an eater of souls. A fatal way to take someone away from the wheel. The act was totally evil, mad and terrifying. The Russian wasn't afraid of death. But now he was totally terrified of the SunChild.
And the most terrifying thing was that the demon knew him. Knew him personally. The SunChild tasted his soul. Touched his fears and his pain. Reached deep inside where he could still feel the scars of its mind.
He felt hands on him, comforting, concerned. He barely heard Spook speak out his concern, somewhere near.
"Are you alright man?"
Somewhere farther, a female voiced a question.
"Of course he's still breathing. But from the scream, he's hurt bad.", was Spook's answer to her question.
The Euthanatos couldn't reply. His mind was almost shattered. But he still felt some of the power of the Tass pulsing feebly inside. And the power was waning fast. Using his last bit of strength, Igor opened a fissure in reality and pulled the gathered Hollows through inside the temple.
He didn't even stop to wonder how he could accomplish something that was clearly beyond his meager magickal skills. Maybe the Tass... maybe something as mystical as his avatar.
Without the two persons holding him up, the Russian would have collapsed on the floor. Opening his eyes took much willpower. He was there. In the temple. Not in perception but in body and soul. Spook and Bitchy held him up in their arms. Somehow he knew that Roxy and Nadina stood a few feet behind him. And in front stood three determined looking choristers, surprise at the appearance of the group showing on their faces. Igor considered himself lucky they didn't attack the intruders on the spot.
And behind them, sitting on a couch, lied the Reverend Joy, apparently weakened by some recent ordeal. She looked up weakly at Igor and his group, no recognition showing in her aged eyes.
"Who are you?" she asks, apparently not recognizing them.
"The SunChild is two beings. One of them mortal.," Igor managed to croak.
The acolytes attending Reverend Joy grasped their ankhs as if preparing to create Magick, but Joy held them back.
"Interesting words," Joy said, leaning back.
(Perception + Empathy = 2 successes). Igor noted that Joy seemed drained and her movements were slow. Though, despite the pale pallor of her wet clammy looking skin, her eyes burned fiercely bright.
"Tell us more."
Igor took a few precious seconds to recover from his latest feats of Magick. His heart was beating at an insane rate and adrenalin was thick in his blood. His throat felt parched and his head hurt. He had seen better days.
"The second being is named Resheph and walks not too far away."
Again, the Russian took some time to recover his composure, his usual calm. The people around stared at his expectedly, waiting for him to give out more details.
"He is a devourer of souls. A perversion of reality. A powerful corrupter. The taste of his evil still lingers in my own soul," was all he managed to croak with a hoarse voice instead of the awaited explanation.
The Reverend again spoke " Interesting words again, but by themselves they do little to help us in our present situation. Sit down," she said indicating a Spartan chair," and tell us who you are and what use this information might be?"
"Get him some water " she told an acolyte, who ran off through a door before returning with a crystal glass full of clear water.
The Euthanatos slowly sat down.
"We've met before. At the council. These... ", gesturing toward Bitchy and his group, "are all that is left of the Hollows. I almost lost my own soul acquiring the information. I thought it was important. As for the use of it, I do not know many things about these events. I was hoping in your wisdom, you could use the information more effectively than I, chorister. Maybe we could destroy the Sunchild through his mortal half? In any case, I would like to be put in touch with Davies, the Akhasic Brother."
After that comment, Igor took the glass and drank deeply, waiting for the Reverend's answer.
{Q: What does Spook know about the local Vampire scene?
A: Nothing.}
{Q: What are the rules for Using Tass? What do you need (Prime?) and what is the effect (reduce difficulty?)
A: According to the 1st ed. Mage Rulebook (pgs 236-237), Magi must have at least one rank in Prime. Tass works like using Quintessence. In game terms, it will reduce the difficulty of the roll by one for each point used.}
{Q: You have to tell me what Spook knows of the nature of the Demon. I don't know anything (Pascal) about the metaphysics involved in Demons and how to summon/control/banish them. Prime? Life? Spirit?
A: Neither Igor, Spook, nor any of the Hollows know anything about the Sunchild except that it has great power, can alter the reality around it in a big away, and can free its minions from the forces of Paradox so that they can work the most vulgar magick in full view of sleepers without ANY repercussions.}

Friday, July 7th, 1995 10:16 a.m.

Igor was fidgeting along with the rest of the Hollows in one of the unused rooms in the maze the Choirsters called home. That morning, while waiting word from the alleged 'War Leader' the Choirsters had summoned, Igor was brought a message from this man - personally addressed to him. The Hollows gathered around him, ready to read what it said.

'To All Followers of Ascension: The Sun Child is a threat we cannot ignore, nor is it one we can overcome individually. Only as a group can we hope to stop this entity from further wanton destruction. I urge you, meet with me at the Cloisters of the Celestial Chorus. I have a plan that, if successful, will rid this world of the Sun Child.
Time is short. The enemy grows stronger with each passing day. We have all taken losses, all felt the terrors of this war. I ask you, help me put an end to it. Let us lose no more to this otherworldly aberration.'

'Brother Lloyd, Akashic'

Below this, written in a beautiful jade green calligraphy, was written the following:
'To those of the Traditions: Brother Lloyd Davies has been assigned as War Leader by we of the Celestial Chorus. The Dreamspeakers, Hermetics, and those calling themselves, Hollow Ones, have also agreed to this appointment. Please heed his word and follow his directives as we shall. Only united can we hope to prevail and guard the paths of Ascension - so dear to us all.'

'Brother Louis, Celestial Chorus.'

'To Igor Stepanovich,'

'I remember your presence at the Council meeting. You struck me as a man of deliberation and purpose. I am not often wrong in these judgements, and hope that I am not now. It is purpose we need now more than anything else.'
'I am dedicated to the removal of the Sun Child from this reality. I have the pledged assistance of many mages, including those of the Celestial Chorus. While I realize bad blood exists between you and that Tradition, let me assure you that it does not flow to me. I will see to it that during this crisis it does not flow to you as well. We are in a battle we must fight together if we hope to win. I ask for your help and cooperation in the days to come. I hope I may count on you.'
'The safety of Simon is of the utmost importance to our ultimate goal. Do what you can to insure it. If this is impossible, then please contact me, and I will speed my preparations. I will take precautions to this end, but it may take time for my arrangements to be completed. Anyone who speaks of the Brother's Eye speaks for me.'

'Brother Lloyd, Akashic'

Igor looked at the Hollows. "I guess they're coming here. We'll have to wait and help them get through the gauntlet if need be," he told them.

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