Character Sheet: Raphael Appearance Prelude Journal Entries:
Name: Raphael Player: Yanick Champoux Status: N.P.C. (Character Exiled) Chronicle: Santa Cruz/Vampire Nature: Bon Vivant Demeanor: Gallant Clan: Gangrel Generation: Xth Haven: The Wild Concept: ATTRIBUTES: Physical: Strength-3, Dexterity-3, Stamina-3 Social: Charisma-3, Manipulation-1, Appearance-2 Mental: Perception-4, Intelligence-2, Wits-2 ABILITIES: Talents: Acting-2, Alertness-2, Athletics-1, Brawl-2, Dodge-1, Empathy-2, Intimidation-1, Streetwise-1 Skills: Animal Ken-4, Drive (Motorcycle)-3, Repair-2, Stealth-3, Survival-2 Knowledge: Law-1, Linguistics (English/French)-2, Medicine-2 DISCIPLINES: Animalism-2, Potence-1, Protean-2 Backgrounds: Generation-3, Mentor-1, Resources-1 Merits & Flaws: Inoffensive to Animals (+), Soft-hearted VIRTUES: Conscience-4 Self-Control-3 Courage-4 Humanity-7 Willpower-5 Blood Pool-13 Appearance: 5'8", rather thin, muscular, black hair and eyes, "jeans-and-T-shirt" style. The story so far: First, my family are in the circus for now five generations. My grand-father was an acrobat, my father are a knife-thrower (his assistant's my mother), and me? Well, I have a affinity with animals. Right now, I take care of the circus' menagerie. Horses, monkeys, elephants, dogs and tigers, I take care care of all of them. Each specie fascinate me, but the two tigers of mister Canestro are the ones that really make me dream. You see, these two are the most majestous, powerfull and intelligent animals that I ever seen... And, to add to the appeal, some say that they, the two tigers, and their master are with the circus since it foundation... more than a century ago. Is it true? I don't know, but an ageless wisdom truly seem to shine in the felines' eyes. And I don't talk of their master. Canestro nearly teach me all what I know about animals and training. Okay, he appear just at night and have a way to talk and walk that remind you of some wild beast, but boy, he's a bottomless well of informations, stories and folklore. That was my life until "the" night. We were giving a show and an invited artist's bear went berserk. He managed somehow to break the cage and was ready to do hamburgers with the panicked crowd. Running on pure instinct, I, in the next five second, (a) succed in diverting the bear of his goal and (b) winning by the same occasion a pretty ugly claw's wound at my throat. The last thing I saw as I was falling to the ground was a tiger jumping at the bear. The next time I awoke, the taste of blood was in my mouth... But it was not mine... it was Canestro's. As you can imagine, I was now a children of the night, a vampire. Later, Canestro told me that it was that or a one-way ticket to heaven: the wound was far too deep for any hope of survivance. I slowly learned the new rules governing my new life. Of course, in least than a day, everybody at the circus know that I was no longer human, but nobody freaked or even said the V-word. Saltimbanque acceptance-level are far most high than the one of our normal city-dweller. So I easily adapted. I feed (without killing them) upon the pickpockets and other indesirables that always infest our territory. It's really a wonder how they are easy to handle once you have drained then of half their blood... But now a whole new world was open to me. Men that change to wolf, magic, changelings... All that was now REAL! I love the circus, but my blood screamed for adventure and discovery. So, one night, I told my family and my Sire that I must go, split of the circus for some time. My family understood and Canestro simply smiled and blessed me. After shorts farewell, I got on my motorcycle and took the road. Two day later (I slept in the wood and feed upon campers (here again, nothing worse than a nine hour sleep and a serious headache for my victims)), I found a errand dog. Trotting by the road, she was a complete bastard. A little shorter than a german shepperd, with short brown fur and a skinny look, I was unable to identify her race. But she looked so depressed and lonely that I adopted her immediatly. I baptised her "Omen" and put her on my bike, before me. At first, she was a little afraid, but she quickly learn the trick. Now, we can almost say that she almost enjoy more the rides than me. Anyway, that was a month ago. In the meantime, I learned Omen a few tricks and give her some of my blood ("nothing better to seal a bond", as my Sire say). I, we, travelled south-west and we're now very near of our first real city... a city at the shores of the Pacific Ocean, in the state of California. A city full of mystery and fantastic creatures waiting to be discovered... Thursday, June 1st, 1995 1:24 a.m. Raphael ran, the wet sand compacted at his feet and the moon but a thin sliver. His bike lay back in the gorge, covered by a tarp. It was such a fine night, why bother to ride? The pounding surf to his right washed up over him and he basked in its cool glory. Omen barked and ran alongside him, eager for the chase. Then, sensing something, the dog ran ahead. Raphael laughed and splashed water up onto the beach and then ran back to the dunes, the dry sand caking onto him where he touched it. Laying down, he rolled around and was covered by it. It was fine and it scratched him on his face as he moved it. Omen came back barking. "What is it, boy? What? Tell me!" Omen barked and then ran back farther up the beach. He stopped halfway and then barked again, trying to draw Raphael on. Raphael groaned and then got up, trudging after the dog. Desiring to free himself from the sand, the Gangrel made a wide sweep and plunged back into the ocean before coming back onto the beach. He could see that Omen had disappeared around a point of rock, his barking heard as if he were in another gorge. As Raphael rounded the point, he saw that the dog was indeed in a gorge, a deep one that travelled far back. The stony surface of the gorge was slippery where the occasional wave washed up and confined by the walls, was carried far inland. But as the salt kissed rock disappeared, green grass and sleeping wildflowers soon made their appearance. Up ahead, Omen was barking over a dark lump that looked like a sack. Before he could see it, he smelled its blood. Coming up to it, Raphael could see that it was a small harbor seal. She was small and petite and judging from her wounds, she had been attacked by a shark. She had lost much blood and looked near death. Omen barked at the seal, pestering it, so Raphael told him to shut up. Bending down to her, Raphael looked her over. The seal turned her head and looked at Raphael with two mournful eyes, black in the night. She was near death, Raphael thought. Why not make use of her and end her misery? He had never fed off of a seal before, so it took some exploration to find a vein. When he bit her, she gave out one small bark, but then lay still. But her skin was thick and under it lay layers of fat. Raphael couldn't find a vein so licking that wound clean, he turned instead to her one remaining rear flipper. The skin there was thinner and he found no trouble in drawing blood. The blood was rich, more fatty than other bloods he had tasted. Nevertheless, it had an oily fishy quality about it and Raphael found that he didn't like it. "What are you doing?!" a woman's voice accosted him, revealing him in the light of her strong flashlight. Raphael got up, his eyes shining red in the night. The woman retreated, her light wavering. "I saw she was hurt," Raphael told her. "I was trying to see if I could help," he lied. The woman calmed a bit. "You shouldn't approach beached marine mammals" she told him. "They can turn on you if they're frightened." A smirk, which Raphael was sure went unseen in the darkness, grew across his face. Scientists! Obviously she had seen something in him that frightened her, beyond the obvious of her being a woman and he a strange man, alone in the dark. But, she had to discount her first impression as being silly, or superstitious. "Oh, this one's as gentle as a lamb," he told her. "And who might I ask are you?" "I'm, uh, Maria," she told him, still eyeing him suspiciously. "I'm a Marine Biologist at Long Lab. "I'm Raphael," he offered her hand. "I'm camping up the beach. I was just swimming" "In your clothes?" she asked, looking him over and not taking his offered hand.. "Well, yes. I have an extra set back by my bike. I felt like swimming and didn't want to get undressed, so I just went for it." "Uh-huh," she nodded, as if she didn't really believe him. "Well, anyway, my dog here found the seal. He was acting frantic until I came up here. And that's when you found us." She ignored him, bending down to examine the seal. "Shark attack. Great White. With all the sea lions leaving for their breeding grounds, there's more pressure on the harbor seals this time of year." "That's too bad," Raphael commented. "She seems like a sweet animal." "Sharks have to eat," the biologist commented dryly. "You sympathize with the predator then?" Raphael asked, intrigued. "I'm just saying its their nature," Maria replied. "There's nothing wrong with being a predator. It's just a niche that nature created. All things in balance." She left the seal. "Well, she won't last long." Maria went searching off in the grass with her flashlight. Curious, Omen went tagging along with her. She laughed and petted him on the head. "What are you looking for?" Raphael called out to her. "Radio collar," she replied back. "That's how I knew the seal was on the beach. She was tagged last year. Must have lost it when she crawled ashore." Raphael bent down over the seal, as if examining her. Moving quickly, he licked her wounded flipper and haunch clean, keeping a wary eye on the biologist. After he was done, he scratched his wrist and let the flow of blood drop into the seal's mouth. He heard the biologist returning so he licked his own wound until the blood flow stopped. The biologist carried a ring that looked like it was made of plastic or thick rubber. Tape ran around it on one side where a bulky bulge could be seen under the tape and from which an antennae protruded. "I told you to keep back from that animal," the biologist told him. "That's the law unless you're a trained professional. You could get hurt." "Oh, she wouldn't hurt anybody," Raphael insisted, despite the biologist's attitude. "Well, you don't know animals like I do. She'll be dead by morning. You're just making it more stressed for her hanging around like that. Better to let her die in peace," Maria told him. "Hmm," Raphael pretended to examine the seal. "Looks to me like she's alright. I'd say she's going to get better soon." Maria laughed. "Well, maybe. But don't hold your breath." "You want to bet?" Raphael asked her. Maria shook her head. "No, I don't want to bet anything." She brushed past him. "Will you excuse me? I have work to do." Raphael whistled to Omen. "Alright," he told her, "I'll be here tomorrow to see if the seal died." "Well, you'd better come early," Maria told him. "She won't last long and then I'll be taking her body back to the lab for dissection." Raphael and Omen left. Raphael chuckled. That arrogant biologist was going to be in for a rude shock. Nevertheless, Raphael found that he liked her. And she might come in useful. Thursday, June 1st, 9:43 p.m. Maria had come back a various intervals during the day. Not only was the seal not cooperating by dying, but it actually looked to have improved slightly. She doubted her initial prognosis could have been so incorrect, but there was no doubting her eyes. She felt guilty but she even debated going back for her gun so she could shoot the animal and take it back for study. Then she saw that hippy camper and his dog had returned. The seal barked a welcome at his arrival and didn't even seem distressed about the dog. "Well, how's our patient?" Raphael asked. "Getting better," Maria had to admit. "I'm glad I didn't bet you." The biologist took out a thermos and poured herself come coffee. "Would you like some?" she offered it to Raphael, but he shook his head. "It's not my drink of preference." When she had turned her back, he cut his wrist again, a few drops of his blood spilling into the coffee. It was dark enough that she might not notice. Maria drank down her cup, not even noting the blood in it, though she did sniff at it once she had drained her cup. Two more times, Raphael thought. Two more times, and you will belong to me. Thursday, June 1st, 10:00 p.m. "So you are a marine biologist?" said Raphael, wanting to start a conversation. "Yes, and I'm working for Long Lab. Well, for the time being, anyway." "You're planning to leave?" "As soon as I finish my doctorate's thesis, somewhere this autumn. I'll go to the Sydney's marine institute, in Australia." "Australia? But, it's not a little far from your studies' subjects?" "My studies' subjects?" "Yeah, the seals..." "Ah! No, no, no. I'm not specialising in seals; it's only the work that gave me the Lab. No, my speciality are sharks." "Sharks?" said Raphael, raising a eyebrow. "Sharks. Great Whites in particulary." She sighted. "It's almost a pity that our small friend here didn't die. I may have done my job AND collected datas for my personnal research at the same time. But enough for my personnal biographie, it's now your turn. What are you doing, mister?" "Me? Enjoying myself, why?" "No, I mean, what do you do in your life?" "I'm a circus worker. I was with the Great Viggo's Troup until I decided to take a small vacation's trip. And here I am, like I said, enjoying myself." "A circus worker? How... how peculiar." said Maria, surprised. She was pretty sure that this sympathic guy was not of her social's class, but a circus worker??? This was weird, but exotic as hell... "And did you have a... eeh... speciality?" "Taking care of the animals. Amongst other things." "Aah... And your dog came from the circus too? Do he know tricks?" "Unfortunately, the Viggo's Troup never had the honor to present the Magificent Omen. Neverthless, you presently stare at the most intelligent dog of this side of the Great Lakes! Ask him any question, and he will answer you. One bark for yes, two for no, and a whine for maybe." "Really?" then, adressing to the dog, "Did your master told the truth?" "Bark!" "He's not trying to fooling me?" "Bark! Bark!" "You're really the most intelligent dog on Earth?" "Bark!" "More intelligent than your master?" "Bark!" "OMEN!!!" said Raphael, indigned. (Of course, there was a trick. The dog was in reality responding to subtle commands from Raphael. Touching the leg with the hand mean a yes, tapping the foot, no, scratching the chin, maybe.) Maria asked some more questions. Questions of geography, additions, general trivias. And Omen was always responding correctly. Maria, puzzled, was looking Omen, then Raphael, to return to Omen, trying to understand the trick. She thougth for a couple of second, then a malicious smile run on her lips. "Do you mind if I ask a personnal question to your dog?" she asked. "No, of course not." Maria approached from the dog and, putting her mouth to his ear, whispered him something that Raphael did not hear. Taking no chance, we signaled Omen to "say" maybe. To his surprise, he barked one time instead. Maria said nothing, but her smile widened. She get up, told that she must go, took her thermos and started walking toward her small jeep. In midway, she stopped and said: "Oh, by the way, I will be at the pier tomorrow night... If you come, I may show you something that may interrest you. Bye!" Ten second later, Raphael was alone, and a little surprised by how the eventments have turned. "What the hell did she ASKED you?" he told to Omen who, of course, didn't respond. It was impossible, but Raphael may have sweared that Omen was grinning at him.... Jeudi, premier juin, 10h00 p.m. "Donc, tu es biologiste?" dit Raphael, voulant demarrer la conversation. "Oui, et je travaille pour Long Lab. Enfin, pour l'instant, de toute facon." "Tu compte partir?" "Des que je finis ma these de doctorat, ce qui devrais etre quelque part vers cet automne. Je vais aller a l'institut marin de Sydney, en Australie. "En Australie? Mais, n'est-ce pas un peu loin de ton sujet de recherche?" "Mon sujet de recherche?" "Oui... Les phoques..." "AH! Non, non. Je ne suis pas specialisee dans les phoques; c'est seulement le travail que m'a donne le laboratoire. Non, moi, ma specialite, c'est les requins." "Les requins?" dit Raphael, levant un sourcil. "Les requins. Le grand requin blanc, pour etre precise." Elle soupira. "C'est presque regretable que notre petite amie ait survecue. J'aurais pu l'etudier et ainsi faire mon boulot ET collecter un peu d'information pour ma recherche. Mais cessons de parler de moi, c'est maintenant ton tour. Que faites vous, monsieur?" "Moi? Je m'amuses, pourquoi?" "Non, je veut dire, que fais-tu dans la vie?" "Je travaille au cirque. J'etais avec la troupe du Grand Viggo jusqu'a ce que je decide de prendre de petites vacances. Et me voici, comme je disais, m'amusant." "Un satilbanque? Euh... Inusite." dit Maria, surprise. Elle etait assuree que ce sympathique jeune homme n'etait pas exactement de son niveau social, mais un travailleur du cirque??? C'etait etrange, mais diablement exotique... "Et tu as une ... specialite?" "Soigner les animaux, entre autres choses." "Ah. Et ton chien aussi vient du cirque? Connait-il des trucs?" "Malheureusement, la Troupe de Viggo's n'a jamais eue l'honneur de presenter une prestation du magnifique Omen. Neanmoins, tu es en presence du chien le plus intelligent de ce cote-ci des Grands Lacs! Poses lui n'importe quelle question, et il te repondra. Un aboiment pour un oui, deux pour un non, un gemissement pour peut-etre." "Vraiment?" Puis, s'adressant au chien, "Est-ce que ton maitre a dit la verite?" "Wouaf!" "Il ne tente pas de me rouler?" "Wouaf! Wouaf!" "Tu es vraiment le chien le plus intelligent de cette planete?" "Wouaf!" "Plus intelligent que ton maitre?" "Wouaf!" "OMEN!!!" s'exclama Raphael, indigne. (Bien sur, il y avait un truc. Le chien, en realite, repondait a de subtiles indications de Raphael. Toucher la jambe voulait dire oui, taper du pied non et gratter le menton peut-etre.) Maria posa quelques autres questions. Des questions de geographie, d'addition, de connaissances generales. Et Omen de toujours repondre correctement. Maria, deroutee, regardait Omen, puis Raphael, et retournait a Omen, tentant de comprendre l'astuce. Elle pensa pendant quelques secondes, puis un sourire malicieux apparut sur ses levres. "Je peut lui poser une question personelle?" demanda-t-elle? "non, bien sure que non." Maria s'approcha du chien et, mettant sa bouche a son oreille, lui murmura quelque chose que Raphael ne comprit pas. Ne prenant aucune chance, Raphael fit au chien signe de repondre "peut-etre". A sa grande surprise, il aboiya plutot une fois. Maria ne dit rien, mais son sourire s'aggrandit. Elle se mit debout, annonca qu'elle devait partir, prit son thermos et se dirigea vers sa jeep. A mi-chemin, elle stoppa et dit: "Ah! En passant, je serais sur la jetee demain soir... Si tu viens, je te montrerais peut-etre quelque chose qui pourrait t'interresser. Salut!" Dix secondes plus tard, Raphael etait seul, et un peu surpris de la tournure qu'avait prit les evenements. "Que t'a-t-elle demande?" dit-il a Omen qui, bien sur, ne repondit pas. C'etait impossible, mais Raphael avait la nette impression que Omen affichait un sourire en coin... Friday, June 2nd, 1995 1:59 a.m. Maria's small cottage on the West Side was set in back of another cottage that faced John Street. There was a broad yard, mostly weed filled, a hammock next to a small wooden deck, and cacti and succulents housed in large red clay pots. Raphael noted that she didn't seem to have much of a green thumb. Approaching the sliding glass door in the back of the cottage, Raphael crept forward, stopping every time one of the redwood boards beneath his foot creaked. Things were mostly quiet, but there was a party going on somewhere near, the hangers on's voices carried by the same wind that brought sounds of the ocean some few blocks away. Coming up to the door, Raphael took out a glass cutter, but found that it wasn't necessary, as Maria had left the door open. Tsk, tsk, he thought. Very bad to leave doors open at night. You never knew just who might decide to come in. Walking into the kitchen, he smelled the remains of a T.V. dinner stuffed into the trash can. The white linoleum sagged slightly under his feet. Next to a couch next to the dining table, he could see an aquarium, its denizens sleeping. Sniffing it, he could smell salt water. Walking through a small square foyer, the bathroom to his right, he heard the snuffling sound of a slight snore coming from the far room. Walking into the bedroom, he had to walk past piles of unfolded laundry spread out on the floor. Maria lay, her head turned to one side. Prodding her gently, Raphael was able to get her to turn over. Raphael waited until she relaxed and started to snore again. Opening his vein, he let a few drops of blood fall once again into her mouth. Maria, startled from her sleep, bolted upright in bed. For a moment, she thought that someone was in the room with her, but looking around, she could see that she was alone. Deciding to make sure, she got up and checked the house, remembering finally to lock the back door. It was then she noticed that she had a strange taste in her mouth. Not liking it, she used the bathroom, and brushed her teeth before going back to bed. She found that she couldn't sleep. There was a terrible racket going on underneath the blinds on the far window. It sounded like some bird had gotten in and was beating its wings against the glass. Jumping up again, she eased back the blinds. It turned out to be only a moth, but for some reason, the noise it made was loud, terribly loud. Slapping the moth with her hand, she stuffed it in her mouth and started chewing on it before she knew what she was doing. Her eyes opened wider and she spit it out. The thing she remembered most about that night was liking the way the insect's death tasted, and this frightened her. After washing out her mouth once more, she went back to bed. And she had the strangest dreams. Saturday, June 3rd, 1995 12:01 a.m. Raphael jumped onto the carousel, nervously watching the Brujah thugs who eyed his very movement. They didn't seem to like him, he thought, or maybe they were just worried that he might harm the Prince. Whatever they were, they did seem dedicated to keeping the mad Prince Happy from being harmed, Raphael had to credit them that. Raphael smiled at the woman Brujah, but her return smile was hardly friendly, showing more teeth than friendship. Raphael shrugged and walked around the carousel, enjoying how it felt as it travelled nowhere. He hadn't espied the Prince on his first circuit and looked anxiously at his watch. He didn't want to be late meeting Maria. "Bon soir mon père," the Prince said, speaking from behind. Raphael turned around saw a vampire dressed in the casual dress of something pre-1920. "Votre père?" Raphael responded, "Mais, vous êtes le père des morts mon Prince Noir," said Raphael, seeming undisturbed by the Malkavian's sudden appearance. Back in Monterey, the Gangrel had kept aloof from most kindred affairs, gathering only now and then along with the Monterey Brujah and Nosferatu to defend the city against Salinas Anarchs. "Et moi," Raphael continued, " Je ne suis pas mais le plus morceau insignifiant dans votre ombre malfaisant." The Prince smiled warmly, revealing long yellowed fangs. "Quels que soient ses défauts, il n'est pas ennuyeux," he said, as if to himself. Looking up once more at Raphael, he captured the young Gangrel with his bloody eyes, saying, "Je suis plus riche avoir a côte du moi un tel. Partez! Faites les jeux de mort avec les autres enfants." Raphael departed, grateful and somewhat surprised that his interview was so quickly over. Nodding to a young vampire just ascending the carousel for his interview, Raphael looked at his watch and decided that he would stick around only as long as he needed to before departing for his planned "chance" meeting with Maria. Brandon stepped off of the carousel, still dizzy. He wasn't sure if it was more from motion finally having stopped, or the last impression of Prince Happy's enigmatic words. Looking around, he was startled to see the two Monterey Ventrue looking at him. He would have felt more warmth had he been stared at by two rattlesnakes instead. And they did seem to be looking at him as if he were some sort of rat. Two cool hands cupped his face and turned him away from the Ventrue. Looking down, he was surprised to see a familiar face, though not one he had known personally. Caitlyn Jackson, local celebrity nightclub performer back in Monterey, pulled Brandon's face closer to hers and pressed a sliding kiss full on his lips, allowing her tongue to explore his mouth. A feeling that he had thought well dead inside of him exploded and Brandon, unable to control himself, pulled her closer to him. Had they been mortal, there would have been no doubt that they would have started to disrobe on the spot. Caitlyn, not too quickly, pushed Brandon away, licking the taste of him slowly off her lips. "Thank you," Brandon whispered. "I thought you needed it. You were looking kind of lonely," she told him. Brandon nodded. "It's such a pleasure to meet you," he said, offering his hand. Then he realized how stupidly he was behaving. Still, it seemed to amuse her. Laughing, she ran her finger over her chest, "Stick around. Who knows what might happen." Deftly, Caitlyn leapt onto the moving carousel for her turn with the Prince. She didn't even break her stride. Another vampire strode up to Brandon and clapped him on the shoulder. "Mon Ami, that is the most awesome thing I have ever seen. I am green with envy as is every dead body here tonight," he said with a mild twangy French accent. "It's enough to make one wish he were kine again, no?" Brandon looked over at him. He was dressed in jeans and appeared to need a shave. This new vampire smiled and offered his hand. "Pleasure. My name is Raphael." Brandon took his hand and shook it. "Brandon Lawrence." Brandon then looked back at Caitlyn, shock registering on his face. Raphael, seeing him, asked, "Mon Ami, what is it? What is the matter?" "That's Caitlyn Jackson!" Brandon pointed. "Do you know how many times I've seen her perform? And she's a vampire! I'll bet she's been a vampire every time I've seen her!" "Well, that is the idea," Raphael told him. Seeing that Caitlyn had finished, Raphael tapped him on the shoulder. "I must be going, mon ami. I have an appointment for later up the coast and I must not be late out of here. I'll see you another time, yes?" Brandon nodded and clapped the Gangrel on the shoulder as he took Caitlyn's place on the carousel. Brandon smiled at Caitlyn as she got off. She smiled back but instead of rejoining him, she hopped over to the only Santa Cruz Gangrel present and tried to strike up a conversation with Mish. Feeling more than a little jealous, Brandon sighed and walked over to the Nosferatu, Loparlo, both drawn and repulsed by the Nosferatu's hideous features. After all of the interviews had been concluded, Prince Happy called everyone back onto the carousel. "Mes Enfants," he began. "We are in dangerous times these nights and the darkness, it will suck us dry if we cry not in a voice, but in the hoarse cry of the mob." Miryam looking around noted once again the dizzying effects of the lights as the twirling carousel zipped past them until they began to blur into a wash of burning colour. The carousel was speeding up. "The path to Golconda, if you wish it, is found in such a cry. Listen to the gulls when you first awaken. Their savage selfishness is our own. If you run the beach, they scatter before you. Such is our own flight and the gulls of Monterey, once our sister, yes such have come to roost. We are all here together now. Look around you! Look!" Everyone did, but all they could see was the whirling flash of lights. blinding their undead eyes. As the carousel continued to speed, many of them felt the pull of centrifical force and had to grip tighter. Happy paused as if he had forgotten what he was going to say. Purdy was seen bending his mouth to the Prince's ear. Happy nodded and then continued. "There are so many mouths now. You must not feed but one night in three. You must not kill your food, but leave it for others to feed from as they need. The dancer is here, but who will play the music? We must all learn to dance. Do you HEAR ME! TO DANCE!" All the vampires looked towards one another, trying impossibly to glean as much meaning as they could out of the Prince's nonsense. His rambling seemed to more frighten the assembly than to comfort them. It was as if the vampires of Santa Cruz had conveniently forgotten how mad he truly was. "The Sabbat, their music is the harshest. And it is so hard to dance to," the Prince told them sadly. Even Crown took note at the mention of the dreaded Sabbat. "Their voices are here, mes enfants. They are in the wind and they whisper around your crypts. They are simple voices and the tales they have to tell all have the same ending. In your daytime dreams, you must think to yourselves what tale you wish to tell, and how you wish it told." The whirling of the carousel was so fast now, that many of the vampires feared that it would break apart. It had built at the turn of the century and as it creaked and groaned, they imagined it disintegrating and hurling them to oblivion. All eyes looked to Happy, unaffected and standing in the whirlwind like the Captain on a ship of fools. Miryam was the first to loose her grip. But before she could be hurled away, Happy himself reached out to snag her arm and pull in back inward. So great was the centrifical force, that it must have taken great strength to do so. "So you see, mes enfants, we must ride together so that all of us can finish. In all things, we must dance, we must sing, we must weave our tales, but always - together. It is that or the ride is forever over." The carousel slowed to a stop and dizzy vampires spilled off of it everywhere. Jonathan looked up and noted how the Prince seemed drained, as if the words he had spoken had sucked him dry. Tenderly, the Brujah Purdy brought him a glass of blood to drink. Blood from a punchbowl was passed around by some of the Prince's ghouls. Though no one wanted to drink it at first, they were reassured when the Tremere Hammel, gazing into it, nodded to show that it was untainted of bonding kindred vitae and therefore safe to drink. The vampires, more than a little dazed themselves, broke up into various social circles, trying to put the best face they could on the Prince's words. Diane turned away from Spiral with a single sharp look and walked toward Raphael, largely because he was the first person to have caught her eye. He noticed that she had already managed to leave her glass somewhere untouched. She sounded cheerful enough though. "Evening, I don't think we've met? " she offers a hand to you to shake with an easy smile. "I'm Diane, of the Ventrue.. I'm new here myself." "Did you come down from Monterey? I'm a duffer with faces myself although she glanced at the Brujah, "in some cases the trail of destruction speaks for itself." She grins and nods towards one of them, "Give them a uniform and a job and they think they can get away with murder! They're probably quaking in their boots right now" She grined, "But hiding it bloody well! Do you know any of the others here.. I could manage some introductions... if you're interested that is." "I'm Raphael, delighted to make your acquaintance." responded Raphael, all smiles. He took Diane's hand and, while doing a caricatural bow, gave it a light kiss. "And yes, I'm too from Monterey, but I fear that I was a little... recluse at that time, so it's perfectly plausible (but extremely sad) that we never meet before." He also looked at the Brujahs. "Murder? I know that they are not exactly saints, but... Sister, you really said too much or not enough! You will have to tell me the whole story, but not tonight, for the Boardwalk is full of ears, and some of them are not friendly one's." To that, he smile and waved his hand at a Brujah who was staring a little too much at them. "Well... What was I saying? Oh, yes. I was about to tell you a most horrible confession: before tonight, I never encountered anybody here... Yeah, I know, I'm a social wreck... Can you save me? Please?" But before Diane could say anything, Raphael suddenly turned his head as the sound of a dog barking came from far away. "She's coming!" he said, his smile growing to a panicking size. "Oh! Please forgive me, but I must leave.... He quickly gave Diane a big hug, then ran to his bike. Two seconds later he was gone. Saturday, June 3rd 12:55 a.m. "Do you have a life?" Maria asked, gazing at Raphael. Raphael tossed a stick far towards the surf, watching Omen dance in the waves as the dog fought to retrieve it from the ocean. "I see the seal's recovered," he commented to Maria. Maria shook her head. It was the last thing she had figured. She didn't half wonder if Raphael had something to do with it, perhaps injecting the animal with antibiotics. But in that theory, she could find no answer as to how an ex-circus worker could know how to do those things and she realized how far fetched the idea was. Still, there was something odd about him, and not only why he seemed intent on hanging around this beach. For reassurance, Maria put her hands in her pocket, feeling the reassuring tube of pepper spray that she carried. "So, are you off to Australia soon?" Raphael asked her. "Soon", she nodded. Since the seal was gone, she had no reason to stay. Waving goodbye to the circus worker, she petted his dog one last time and trudged off in the sand, heading back up to her truck. She was hardly surprised when she caught him following her. Turning around, she confronted him. "Look, I appreciate the attention, but you're not my type." "I'm sure your right about that, but not for the reasons you suspect", he told her. Certainly, it wasn't the reply she expected. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked, but then decided, she wasn't interested in the answer. She just turned around and walked up the sandstone slope; walked quickly in fact. Coming to the top, her heart just about stopped when she saw that he was there waiting for her. She whipped her head behind her to confirm he wasn't there. But then she knew he couldn't have beaten her to the top, certainly not without her knowing about it. "What the?", but she didn't finish as Raphael reached out with long arms and grabbed her, pulling her to him. He was strong. "I need you," he told her, "And I'll have you." She reached for her pepper spray, but his hand was already there. Seductively, he ran his hands around her hips. Rape was the ugliest word she had ever heard, and she feared that now she was about to find out how ugly. But she was determined not to go out without a fight. She kneed him in the groin and then kicked his instep for good measure. He reacted by smiling. It was the smile that made her scream. Clapping a hand over her mouth, Raphael bit her neck and began to feed. Maria relaxed. Unable to fight, her will fell away. Abstractly, she began to think that she was a prey animal, and her will to resist was gone. It even felt enjoyable. Then, Raphael pulled away and, biting his tongue, slipped it back inside her mouth. She screamed, but he held her locked into the kiss. She bit his tongue, releasing even more blood. When Raphael didn't react to her bite, Maria bit down even harder and felt something cold and dead flopping around in her mouth. She spit it out, watching it writhe on the dirt, just captured by moonlight. "Oh my God!" she screamed, holding her mouth. It was dripping with blood. Raphael just looked at her smiling, while his dog, Omen, lapped up any blood which had fallen to the ground. "You are mine," he told her, his mouth numbing the words through his lack of half a tongue. Saturday, June 3rd, 1995 1:12 a.m. Raphael watched her run off. It wouldn't matter. He knew, by the way she had drunk of his vitae, having bitten off his tongue, that she had a genuine taste for blood, like the sharks she studied. She was just as frightened of that hunger as she was of him right now. But, remembering it, she would be back. Saturday, June 3rd 1:17 a.m. Maria ran, panicked, toward her truck. It was parked beyond a dune, where one couldn't see the beach. Scrambling through a cut in the dune, she was just about there when she ran into someone. At first, she thought it was Raphael, and she struck out blindly. The blow hit home and there was a grunt of pain. Wrinkling her nose, she knew that it wasn't Raphael. This person was someone else, she could smell it clearly, though she didn't know how this was possible. Sniffing again, she knew that someone else was behind her. "I don't think she likes you, man", she heard a drunken voice say behind her. "Maybe she doesn't like men", the one she had hit said. "I think we ought to teach her how." "You got any money, lady?" the longhaired man behind her asked. His beard stank like rotten vomit. Saturday, June 3rd 1:26 a.m. Omen was the one who alerted him. Toping the crest of the dune, Raphael saw the two men attacking Maria. One of them had pulled her down by her hair, while the other, holding her pepper spray, had just sprayed her in her face. She was shrieking so the other one holding her shoulders and hair began punching her face so she would keep quiet. After he had beaten her senseless, the thinner one who had done the beating nodded. Given the signal, the larger one yanked off her jeans, cutting them when they wouldn't give way. Then, dropping his pants, be got down to his knees, ready to go to work. Standing beside Raphael, Omen started to growl. Saturday, June 3rd 1:27 a.m. - LET HER ALONE! The scream boomed into the night like thunder. The two men turned in direction of the dune. At first they only saw two vague silhouettes, then they saw what was coming. "Shiiii..." hissed the fat one, trying to get to his feet, when Omen hit him like a bullet. His friend, the thin one, was all eyes for the red-eyes clawed creature that was coming for him. At the last second, he finally realised what was going on, turned his heels and started to run. Unfortunately for him, it was far too late. Raphael's claws got him at kidney's level, digging deep into his flesh. He fell to the ground with a startled cry of pain. Desperatly, he tried to crawl. A hand gripped his hairs, jerking his head backward. Fangs found his jugular. He died in least that five seconds. After what seemed a eternity of hurt, the fat one's brain registred that the dog had broke his attack. He slowly lowered his bloodied arms and opened his eyes. Omen was still there, mere inchs away, but Raphael was coming. The fat one raised again his arms in a vain gest of defense. Raphael's claws shined under the moon, ready to strike. But a split second before launch himself on his prey, a moan make him forget his bloodlust. Maria's moan. Turning his back to the now-forgotten man, he went where she was laying. He kneeled and run delicatly a finger on her face. Her nose was broken, her lips split and one eye was purple and swaying. Damages have been done to her, severe damages, but nothing hat a few drop of blood can't arrange. Raphael's hand raised to cut his wrist, but it stopped in mid-air. He suddenly find himself wanting to taste her blood, even if he was full from his fresh kill. Yes, he was wanting her blood, her body, her soul...he wanted her as a mate. So he reached to take, not to give. He hesitated again the instant before his fangs ponctuate her throat. A voice in his head asked him he wanted to Embrace her like that, beaten, terrorized, half naked, with her agressors as spectators. No, he don't want it that way. Yeah, he want it, that way or anyway. He stayed immobile, like a statue, battling again the urge to sink his fangs into her flesh. Finally, he moved. And it was his own blood that he tasted before he bringed his wrist to Maria's mouth. At first, she was without reaction, then her mouth locked on his wrist, sucking more and more avidly blood from it. Raphael let her drink a good portion of his vitea and retired his arm. Maria moved, opened her eyes, and screamed. Raphael reached for her, wanting to give her comfort, but her screams redoubled. Letting her loose in her shape was not an option, so he hugged her neverthless. She continued to scream for some time, then it broke suddenly, remplaced by a sound that startled Raphael. She was weeping. She was still weeping when he gently took her in his arms and put her in her truck. She didn't stop weeping all the way to her home, as Raphael was driving. She still wept when he put her in her bed and undressed her. She only stop half an hour later, falling into a troubled sleep. Raphael stayed at her bedside a little longer. Then went to the yard. He looked at the moon and whispered "What have I done?". "A pretty ugly mess, if you want my advice" a voice replied. It completly startled Raphael. Dropping into position of defense, he scanned the yard. In plain sight a man was near the hammock, Omen at his feet. He was tall, aristocratic, good-looking and seemingly young. But his smell, unnatural, told Raphael that he was meeting his first vampire, apart from himself and his Sire. - Who are you? asked Raphael, still on the defensive but puzzled by his dog's attitude. "For tonight, you can call me your conscience, buddy." was the answer. - Conscience? Why should I need a conscience? - Because you scared witless a woman you blood-bounded and killed one person and a half in the same night. If this isn't a call for a little conscience's back-up, I wonder what can be... "How do you know about _that_?" growl Raphael, suddenly very tense. 'Cause I saw the lady being attacked by the two bastards. And her aura scream your colors. By the way, you can relax yourself and quit looking like you are on the edge of cutting me to ribbons. Trust me, I'm not here to fight nobody. So why are you here? I already told you: to be your conscience. Say, do you know what you have done tonight? Really know? Well, I will tell you: you put yourself into a pretty perfect no-win situation. You see, blood-bound someone mean that you attach her destiny to yours. How hard you or her try to flee the other, fate will always reunite you. And this is nasty when we consider that the blood-bounded person now have the reflex to scream her head off when she see you. She was shocked!! Tomorrow, she will... She will what? Smile and say how happy she is to see you? Get real! You bring horror in her life, destroyed the foundations of her sanity. I fact, I will be very surprised if she can do better than drool tomorrow. It's not true!!!! But Raphael know that the man was right. He have heard the sound od Maria's weeping, the sound of something broken. Say, boy, answer this simple question: do you love her? "I... I... yes... I think I am". Raphael answer was no more than a whisper. And what's making you lover her? She... She's so full of life. She's defiant, proud, aggresive, intelligent and beautiful. She's a predator. That's what she are... And a magnificient one. I wanted to give her the power to be what she can be... I wanted her... to be my companion... The stranger shook his head. You liked her wilderness, so you tamed her by blood-bounding her to you. You liked her intelligence and braveness, so you lobotomized her with fear. You loved her... So you gave her all the reasons of the world to hate you... You wanted to give her power, but I will tell you: power without choice will never be power... I'm afraid you doomed your love, my friend, and your loved one as well. Raphael stood speachless. The stranger was right, he had acted like a fool. He have wanted to have her like we have an object, and he have crushed her in his precipitation. What have I done? As I already have said, a big mess, but I can maybe undone thing too quickly done... What do you mean? I can put a spell on her, change her memories, make her forget what have happened tonight. Not forever, thought, her true memories will resurface sooner or later. But if you do a decent job meanwhile, you can maybe spare her from absolute madness. Why might you do that? Surely there's a price to be paid... Of course, but it's so low compare again what you gain. Trust me, you can't loose with this b... Omen suddenly growl and the stranger frooze in mid-sentence, looking at something behind Raphael. Raphael turned unto himself. Maria was at her doorstep, nude. Her eyes was haggards and she was holding a small gun. And it was pointed right at Raphael chest. Saturday June 3rd, 1995 2:02 a.m. Maria fired and the bullet hit Raphel square on the chest. (Raphael soaks for one and takes 4 damage. He is wounded, at -3). As Raphael went down from the impact, his chest and back bleeding, the stranger with the long black que rushed forward with blinding speed and managed to snatch the gun from Maria before she could do more harm. Before she could scream, the stranger passed his hand in front of her eyes and she collapsed in his arms. Raphael, who was already starting to heal walked over and taking Maria from the other vampire's arms, carried her to his bike and covered her with his coat. No thanks was given to the stranger as Raphael roared off into the night. However, even as sirens sounded in the distance, the stranger saw that another motorcylce rider followed Raphael down John Street, heading for the sea. Saturday June 3rd 5:56 a.m. Waking up in a sea cave, Maria tried to scream but a firm cold hand clamped over her mouth. "Shh," the voice insisted. "I won't hurt you, so be quiet!" There was a sound of a match striking and Raphael's face could now be seen as he lit the candle. "Where are we?" Maria asked, looking around fearfully. "You crazy bastard?" She looked down at her own nakedness. "What do you think you're doing?!" Without even thinking about it, she bared her fangs and hissed at him, claws extending from her fingers. Then, shocked at what she had done, she clamped her hand in front of her face and stared at Raphael with sad frightened red eyes. Reluctantly, shielded from the morning sun in their cave, Raphael told her about what he was and what she had become. Just as light of morning could not enter the cave, neither could the sounds of her screams escape it. Saturday, June 3rd 8:55 p.m. "I'm going out for a while," Raphael told his chylde. "Look, you'll be alright. I'm just going to get us something to feed us." "Blood!" Maria spat. "You're going out to kill someone," she accused him. "No," he answered her firmly, "We feed off of animals, not humans. We're not like other licks and we don't kill when we can avoid it." "My god!" Maria sobbed. "You've turned me into some sort of parasite. I want to die! I want to die!" "You are dead!" His words affected her as if he had slapped her. It made her stop crying but she looked up at him with anger and hatred. The shadows on her face from the candlelight heightened the grim expression she wore. "I'm dead," she nodded. "And you're going to tell me to get used to it." Raphael nodded. "Get out of here!" she screamed at him. "Leave me alone!" Raphael dug his fingers into his own hands. Feeling there was nothing he could do, he left, giving her time by herself. "Don't leave this cave," he told her as he went out. Saturday, June 3rd 10:14 p.m. Raphael finished draining the blood from the horse's neck into the gallon jug he had brought with him. Before the horse could shy away, he fed it another carrot and then started to lick its wounds clean. He heard someone walk up and then whirled, ready for a fight. "That is the most disgusting thing I have ever seen," the vampire remarked. Raphael saw that it was Tony Darc, one of the Brujah Dead Devils he had seen at Elysium the night before. "What's it to you, how I feed?" Raphael asked, putting a cork into his bottle. "You're right," Darc hissed, "I don't care what you animal kissers do, as long as you don't get in my way." "Am I in your way now?" Raphael asked sarcastically. "Purdy wants to see you," Darc told him. "Follow me." Feeling he had no choice, Raphael got on his bike and followed the Brujah biker down Highway 9, back to Santa Cruz. Saturday, June 3rd 10:55 p.m. "Here he is," Darc announced as he led Raphael in through the concealed door in the "Haunted House" ride. They had bought tickets but gotten off midway in the ride. The ride operator would know that they didn't come out, but he was one of Purdy's ghouls so he wouldn't be a problem. "Have a seat," the Brujah Primogen Purdy offered, indicating a plain wooden chair. Behind Purdy, Rebecca stood regarding Raphael, her long black hair falling like a cascade of silk darkness down the front of Purdy's jacket. Her eyes were like murder. Raphael didn't care one way or another about Brujah, but these Dead Devils had certainly seemed to take an interest in him. Had they found out already that he had sired? If so, having done so without Happy's permission would be enough to let them kill him. But if they had planned that, Raphael doubted that they would have brought him to the Boardwalk, Elysium. "I have a job for you," Purdy told him, cutting to the matter at hand. Raphael thought about saying no, outright. But then, pissing off the Brujah he decided, wouldn't be a good idea. "What kind of job?" he asked, at least willing to hear what they had to say. "We want you to infiltrate the furbacks up in the mountains," Purdy told him. Raphael thought, furbacks? He means werewolves! "We want you to be our contact and sound them out about a truce, maybe an alliance." Infiltrate the werewolf packs?! The Brujah was insane. "No Way!" he said, shaking his head. "I'm not in the mood for suicide." "I told you," Rebecca hissed. "Not only does he drink chickens, he's become one too." This comment elicited a chuckle from Darc, who stood towering over Raphael from behind. "It's known that the Gangrel sometimes turn wolf and run with the furbacks," Purdy said. "Then ask Mish," Raphael told him, meaning the quiet enigmatic Santa Cruz Gangrel that he had briefly met at the carousel gathering. "Ask him to do this for you, cause I won't!" "I'm not asking anybody!" Purdy said, his face darkening with blood. The menace in the old vampire's eyes forced Raphael to look downward. "As I said, I don't ask. I'm telling - YOU!" To emphasize his point, he dug his finger straight into Raphael's chest, dangerously close to his heart. (Take 2 hits, -1, hurt). Raphael went insane from the pain. Looking down at the blood flowing out of his chest and Purdy's finger digging inside him, he felt claws distending from his hand. With one swipe, he tore huge gashes into the Primogen's bearded face. Purdy didn't even act as if he had been hurt but, as he drew his finger out of Raphael's chest, he smiled. His wound had disappeared. Merd! Raphael thought. "I thought you'd be reluctant," Purdy confided to Raphael. "So, I've taken out some insurance that you'll do what I told you." He snapped his fingers and the vampire Rebecca handed him a mass of hair. Purdy threw it in Raphael's face. "Recognize the smell?" he taunted. Raphael did indeed recognize the smell. It was of his chylde, Maria. The Brujah had taken Maria! "You took the human, Maria Azeglio, as your chylde, without the Prince's permission, directly violating the laws of the Camarilla," Purdy said, as if pronouncing sentence. "For this, you could face final death." There was a pause. "However" And Purdy went on to explain that if Raphael did as he was told successfully, that Purdy would see that Prince Happy would give his permission for what Rapahel had done. It would all depend on Raphael's ability to bring werewolf allies to the Prince. Raphael only half heard the Primogen's words. His face buried in Maria's shorn hair, he cried tears of blood. Sunday June 4th, 1995 3:04 a.m. After his "interview" with the Brujah, Raphael hurried back quickly from Elysium. Entering the sea cave on the coastline past Wilder Ranch, Raphael found his ghoul beast, Omen, badly hurt but still alive. Maria, of course, was gone. There were signs of a struggle and there was blood. He put his fingers in it and smelled. Though some of it was Omen's, much of it was Maria's. She hadn't gone without a fight. "Bâtards!" he swore. Opening up a vein, he fed blood to his beloved hell hound, giving him the vitae he would need to heal. "She did you credit," a familiar voice informed him, appearing out of nowhere. Raphael turned. The strange vampire, dressed in a clean white shirt and vest, covered with a leather jacket, looked down on him. Though he hadn't noticed it before, the stranger had European features and glaring blue eyes that contrasted sharply with his Asian que. "Who are you!" Raphael demanded. "I'm a friend," the vampire replied. "If you'll only let me be one to you." Raphael cast about in his mind. "I didn't see you at the gathering at Elysium last night," he said. "Weren't you there?" "I heard about it," the vampire confessed. "What clan are you?" Raphael asked. "And where are you from?" "Such questions. One would think you were the suspicious type. But then, around here, that's healthy." He smiled, showing his fangs. "My name is Peter. I'm a Toreador and I'm from Monterey, as are you." "I don't recall you from there," Raphael said. "Well I don't recall you either. But then, we hardly associated with Gangrel back then." Raphael nodded. He hadn't known the other Toreador at the gathering either. His own clan had seemed to have suffered badly in the upheaval in the south bay. None, as yet, had made it to Santa Cruz or they were lying low. "So?" Raphael said, as if uninterested. "So, how about if I tell you where they took your Maria and help you get her back?" Raphael turned, as if stunned. "You know?" "I followed them," Peter smiled. "I know exactly where they are and you and I can go get her back." "And, I assume there's a price?" Raphael asked. "Of course," Peter told him. "But I'm more interested in your friendship. What do you say? Shall we go and get your chylde back?" Sunday June 4th, 1995 3:56 a.m. "They have taken her HERE?" hissed Raphael. He and Peter were at the edge of the city's dump. Like a blasphemous homage to the near mountains, various wastes were piled up into monstrous heaps. The view was hellish, but the smell was far, far worse. For Raphael, the surrounding air was not only stinking of decay and death, it _was_ decay and death. It was intolerable, and Maria was there... They hide their bikes in a near trench, leaving Omen to guard them and walked toward the fence. Sunday June 4th, 1995 4:15 a.m. "Shhhh, they are just below us" whispered Peter. The comment was superfluous. Raphael was perfectly hearing the drunk laughers of a dozen young men. Raising his head over a small heap of garbage, he saw a campfire around which was the partying crowd. "Who are they?" whispered Raphael. "Small-time crooks. One of the many gangs orbiting the Dead Devils. The dump are their turf." "They are the ones that took Maria?" "Good God, no! These losers would not have lasted more than five seconds again her. No, the Dead Devils did the job. They, they are only watching dogs. Do you see the small mount there, with the car's body? She's buried under it. At two, digging her out will be child's play. The hard part will be to deal with the bastards down here." "At your place, I wouldn't be too worried about them" whispered Raphael. And, softly, he started making small squeaking sounds. When the first rat appeared, they laughed and kicked it. But when it was replaced by two others, then four, then twenty, they stopped. The panic only kicked in when one of them was bitten. Two or three understood immediately and fled, the others followed a few minutes later, leaving what have became a living ground of vermin. As soon they quitted, Raphael and Peter showed themselves. Raphael didn't hesitated and went directly to the heap pointed by Peter, passing through the rodents as if they didn't existed at all. Peter seemed a little more preoccupied by the rats, but managed anyway to cross the small furry sea. They didn't had no difficulty moving the car's body. Raphael, now oblivious of the Toreador's presence started digging. He quickly uncovered an old refrigerator. He shyly touched it, took a deep breath and opened its door. What came from his mouth was an inarticulate sound of pain and sorrow. Maria was lying in the fridge, but she was bearably recognizable. Still nude, her body was covered by horrible wounds. Deep gashes made by knifes was everywhere and a shotgun shoot had torn her belly apart. But the worst was the wooden stake transpercing her, that and the tormented look in her still-open eyes. With an inhuman shriek, Raphael tore the stake from Maria and throw it in the night. He took her in his arms and, sobbing, kissed her blood's covered forehead. He was walking in the direction of the near forest when Peter stopped him. "Hey! Where are you going?" The look Raphael gave him made him take a few steps back. The Gangrel was obviously at the edge of the mother of all frenzies. They remained frozen for what seemed an eternity, then Raphael regained control over himself. "I'm going in the forest, in the mountains." "Why?" "'cause from now on, I'm fair game for the Dead Devils, and that's mean that I will not be in security anywhere in town or in the sea-caves. The only place where they will not dare search me are the mountains." "You can always flee. There's nothing that hold you here." "You're wrong, there's something that hold me here. The Dead Devils... Their blood's mine." "But the mountains... They are filled with werewolves!" "Oh, but I hope so, my friend... I hope so..." said Raphael with a harsh laughter. "So this is farewell, friend. But please, take care of yourself... And of her." "I will... And, Peter, merci..." To this he disappeared with his burden. Sunday June 4th, 1995 4:52 a.m. Raphael had finally found a cavity under a tree where the sun's rays could go. He have gently deposed Maria on the ground and, under the inquisitive eye of Omen, have feed her with all the horse's blood. It was only after that he poured half of his own blood in her lifeless mouth that she started to move. He stopped to feed her only when he begun to fear for his own survival. She was still weak as a baby, and the healing process was far from ended. She tried to talk, but only wrecked sounds came out. Raphael took her in his arms, tried to conform her. She returned the embrace, clinging desesperatly to him. When the sun came, they fall asleep in each other's arms, tears blended together. Sunday June 4th, 1995 11:00 p.m. Raphael didn't loose his time. As soon as he wake up, after making sure Maria was okay, he had gone to her house, to take a few things before the news of his rescue reached the Dead Devils. With a backpack full of clothes, he had then gone to hunt. Being near starvation, he didn't play fine-bouche and attacked the easiest prey: man. His victim was a man who was watching stars with his telescope in his backyard. After leaving him near drained on his lawn, he returned to the forest. Monday June 5th, 1995 2:08 a.m. Maria had feed again. She was healing rapidly but was still unable to walk. No word have passed between then since the night before, and no word was needed for the time being. Raphael stood up. Maria gave him an anxious look. He broke the silence "I'm going hunting. I need blood, and you need it too. But I will be back before long, I..." He suddenly stopped. Four red eyes was looking at him. He didn't ear them approach, but they was there, two huge silhouettes a few meters away. They were wolves, but no wolf have lived in these woods from a long time ago...Raphael clenched his teeth, knowing that he was now on a razor's blade... But the werewolves didn't attack. Instead, they disappeared, their red eyes vanishing in the night. Transforming to a more lupine form himself, Raphael trod after them, smelling the ground. Strangely, they had gone - but where, and would they be back? "Come, let's go," he told Maria upon returning. "I don't want to be in the same space if those two we saw return with help." Pushing the bike, he and Maria raced ahead, being careful to cross running streams to throw off their scent, should they be followed. Monday June 5th, 1995 3:54 a.m. As dawn was only a couple of hours off, Raphael didn't want to travel far from his chylde. He would need to think about all that had happened, and decide on some course of action. Over the Hill in San Jose was Anarch country. He could join them, but was that what he wanted to do? Up north lay San Francisco, the realm of the Ventrue Prince, Vannevar Thomas. The county of San Mateo inbetween was a battle ground between Anarchs and Camarilla, hence a very dangerous place to be. Raphael began to wonder what it would take to make peace with Prince Happy. There was a rustling in the bushes. It was Peter. "How did you find us!" Raphael hissed, baring his fangs. Though Peter had helped him, still the Gangrel wasn't happy at having been found out so easily. "I have my ways," Peter said. Raphael noted that Peter was carrying a large sack. There was a dark stain on its side and Raphael could smell the rich scent of blood. Maria smelled it also, and sat twitching her nose like some demonic rabbit. "I thought you might be hungry," Peter told Raphael. Raphael uncovered the sack and gasped. It was one of the Santa Cruz Brujah, the one called Ricky Lopez. He'd been staked and though immobilized, his undead eyes stared up at Raphael with defiant vehemence. "The Prince has declared a Blood Hunt on you," Peter said, "for killing the Brujah ghouls. Every vampire in Santa Cruz is supposed to hunt you down and kill you on sight. Just thought you'd want to know." "And what about you?" Raphael asked. "They don't know about me - yet that is. So what about it?" Peter asked, kicking Lopez's helpless body. "He's ancillae, pretty low generation I think. If you drink him dry, you're bound to become stronger. You might need that in the days ahead." "Diablerie!" Raphael gasped, looking down at Lopez. "Why not?" Peter shrugged. "Hey, don't doubt that if the tables were turned, this lick would do you in a dead second. They always meant for you to die. Do you think they wanted you to survive that garou mission? The way I see it, you don't have much choice, not if you want to survive." Raphael looked down at Lopez, his thoughts reeling. What to do? Monday June 5th 1995 4:01 a.m. Raphael looked down at Lopez for a long time, then he closed his eyes. "One cannot adopt the way of the Beast without becoming a Beast himself", he murmured, shaking softly his head. "What did you say?", asked Peter. "I said that I cannot, that I will not take his blood." "And why? What do you fear? They already called a bloodhunt on you, you fool! Things can't go worse!" "Shut up!", snapped Raphael, "You don't know what you're talking of! Fear of being a fugitive? I'm a Gangrel! I could stay away of yours cities for the rest of eternity without feeling even the slightest trace of regret! It's the Diablerie itself that is the problem! You talk of it like it's only a way to gain powers quickly. But when one drain a kindred, one not only drain his blood, or his powers. No! One drain the very life essence of this kindred, his personality, his fears, his hate, his Beast! If I drink of this man, I will gain power, but my Beast will gain twice as much! And then, I will be truly lost." "Rubbish", spatted Peter, " Nothing but incoherent theology." "No, Peter, no. My Sire told me once that we are not inherently evil, but only walk nearer of the pit. For us, the margin between salvation and damnation are small, incredibly small, and what you propose me to do will push me into a vortex that will destroy me, sooner or later." "You talk of hypothetical damnation! Me, I talk of Dead Devils wanting your head on a spike! I you don't take his blood, you'll..." A shredding sound interrupted Peter. He and Raphael turned to see Maria, who had managed at last to get on her feet, bent over the staked vampire. "He was among those who attacked me", she said in a low, feral voice, "nobody will drink his filthy blood, now or ever." To this, she raised and walked slowly, very slowly toward Peter. She stopped at an arm distance of him and drop the Brujah's severed head at his feet. Then, without saying a word, she returned to the small niche under the tree. Peter's face was a mask of anger. "She doomed you", he say with a cold flat voice, "and herself. She spilled the blood that may have saved you both." "She did the right thing" responded Raphael, with pride in his eyes. "And what will you do now, may I ask? Flee?" "No, I already said I will not flee, Peter. I will stay here, and I will find the Garou." "You are mad, then." Without another word, Peter turned his back at Raphael and vanished in the forest. Raphael didn't move for a long time, then rejoined Maria under the tree. Monday, June 5th, 1995 11:02 p.m. Maria was drinking directly from Raphael wrist. He had feed himself from a deer sooner. Her body was still harboring ugly wounds, but she was now able to move freely from herself. With his free hand, Raphael touched Maria's lips. He wished to let her drink a little more, but he knew that he will be needing all his blood tonight. "I must go, Maria.", he paused, then continued, "If... If I'm not returned tomorrow morning, I want you to take my bike and go as far as you can with Omen. Understood?" Maria stared at him for a moment, then she said softly, "You will return". Raphael tried to talk, found that he was unable to do so. He kissed her on the forehead and raised on his feet. An mere instant later he was gone. Tuesday June 6th, 1:00 a.m. Finding traces of the shapeshifters had not been a hard task. Signs were everywhere to find for one knowing where to look. And soon Raphael instinct told him that he was in the heart of Garou territory. A few minutes later Raphael found their lair. They at the mouth of a cave, five or six to be seen. The most in wolf form, the rest a mix between human and werewolf form. Raphael had never saw a Garou before, and he was excited in spite of the danger. He took a deep breath, knowing that his destiny will be played in the coming minutes, then stepped in the clearing. A Garou in wolf form saw him emerging from the bushes. The shapeshifter thought at first that it was a simple human, then Raphael's odor reached him. He recognized it for what it was and produced a loud growl as he amorced his charge. Raphael didn't move as the first wolf started his charge, soon rejoined by two other. He waited for them to have halved the distance between them. Then, he gathered all his strength and shout, both in the language of men and of the wolves, "STOP!". Two of the running wolves stopped at once, bewilded. But the one who saw Raphael first didn't even slow down. He leaped at Raphael, who avoided his jaws by mere inches. Extending his claws, Raphael was conscient that he was now playing a game of chiurgical precision. If he really wounded the furred fury who was seeking his troat, then the clan will tear him apart, but if he let his guard down for the merest of instant, then he will be torn apart anyway. At least, by the way he had jumped at him, the Garou was most likely a young inexperienced pup. But young or not, he was huge. And he was back at attack. The world was forgotten to Raphael. Only his present foe was reality. Dodge, faint, jump, Raphael was dancing a deadly ballet. Attacking just enough to infuriate his attacker, he was waiting for his more and more aggressive foe do to a mistake. At last, he did it. He did a miscalculated jump, a easily dodged one, that exposed all his side to Raphael. At this time, Raphael may have easily slashed the wolf's belly, eviscerated him in a quick and messy blow, but he rather scratched his left back leg, rendering it all but useless. The wolf landed with a cry of pain and tumbled over. Raphael was over him in no time and his boot hit the wolf's head, hard. Raphael drop his guard a fraction of a second, well, at least, this one will be out for now! Another wolf choose this time to slam Raphael in the back. They went down together, a ball of claws and fangs. Raphael was lucky enough to take hold of the wolf troath. He throwed him with all his strength. But before he was able to get to his feet, a shadow was above him, a Garou in his werewolf's form, with a bleeding head and leg... Raphael twisted on the ground, dodged a first clawed hand, but not a second. The claws tore across his torso. Raphael was beaten, the Garou fanged mouth was seeking his troat. "Should have kicked him harder" thought Raphael. Raphael closed his eyes, waiting for his troat to the tore open. But the jaws didn't close on it. Tentatively, Raphael reopened his eyes. A huge, heavy scarred werewolf was holding his aggressor. He tossed him aside like a doll. With a commanding voice, he spoke: "Stop it, this leech intrigue me! He walk here like the forest is his, speak wolf language and fight well. I want to hear what he have to say." The young one was already on his paws, ready to attack anew, but the old one was between he and Raphael. "Let me kill this thing!", he growled, "he wounded me. I have the right to kill it!" "I said stop.", said the old one with a menacing voice, "He could have wounded you far worse that he did, and I want why he did that too. And, trust me, if you don't calm yourself right now I will do what he did not..." Like by magic he young one lost his aggressive posture. The old one, satisfied, turned toward Raphael. "Now, you better speak quick and speak well, leech". And Raphael spoke quickly and, hopefully, well. To a crowd of werewolves he told all his tale, how the Dead Devils kidnapped his Chylde to force him to come to them. The deal the Dead Devils was offering them. The way he have saved his Chylde. His vow of revenge. All. At the end, there was a silence. Then the old one asked: "So, why have you come here? You already have your woman." "I've come here because my only hope to stay in the region is to become the bridge between Garou and Kindred. This way, I'll maybe be valuable enough not to be destroy on sight." said Raphael, looking right in the eyes of the old warrior. There was another silence. Long, painful. Then the old one spoke again: "Are you telling me that you have risked your life to offer us a pact with the leeches? For the only reason to be able to stay in the region, to wait the right moment to kill the same leeches?" "Yes." The old one remained silent for a second, then, rising his head, laughed at the moon. "You're a pathetic young leech", he said between two bursts, "but you're the bravest and craziest leech that I ever meet!" Raphael tried a faint smile, not knowing if the crise was past or if he was going to die in the next seconds. Wednesday June 7th, 2:56 a.m. "Hello lick," Strongclaw tapped Raphael on the shoulder as he stomped through the bracken. "Hello furback," Raphael retorted. "What did you find out?" Strongclaw sat down next to Raphael and Maria. "Well, the gnawers I know don't exactly have strong connections with the city bloodsuckers, but I was able to find out a thing or two." Raphael had fallen in with a group of six garou, who themselves were survivors from something they called the Green Hills Sept. Apparently the Green Hills werewolves had been driven from their homes by the predation of humans, workers of arcane power who called themselves magi. These magi had raped the power centers of the Green Hills werewolves, and using that power, had been able to kill or scatter the werewolves of that group. "And what did you find?" Raphael pressed Strongclaw. "Apparently, all the licks are searching for you. They want to rip your head off and expose you and your girlfriend here to the sun." "I already knew that," Raphael muttered dryly. Strongclaw observed Raphael, watching him intently. "The lick source claims to have seen YOU in the city. You're being blamed for killing humans and leaving their dry husks at the doorsteps of other licks. The humans are up in arms, thinking that another serial killer is on the loose." "Me? But I've been hiding here in the woods. It wasn't me!" "Don't tell me. Tell it to your lick friends," Strongclaw told him. "That's hardly possible now," Raphael said. "Tell me, if I did want to get into the good graces of the Prince, perhaps if I caught this imposter, that would do the trick. Tall order, but if I had some help" Raphael eyed Strongclaw and the other werewolves, lounging around the glade. Strongclaw, sensing what Raphael was about, shook his head. "You can count us out lick. We've got problems of our own." "Help me and I'll help you,"Raphael told him. "How?" Raphael replied, "You tell me." Strongclaw stroked his beard. He had finished transforming into human form, complete with plaid shirt, jeans and boots. "Well, you'll have to prove you're worthy of our trust first." "Go on." "Kill us a mage," Strongclaw smiled. "Then we'll respect you." Raphael bowed his head. Everyone it seemed, wanted something of him. And for himself, he only wanted to be left alone. Wednesday, June 7th, 11:03 p.m. Raphael had to start somewhere, so he asked Strongclaw to show him the werewolves' ancient home. Grimly, he have agreed. Raphael left Maria and Omen behind, where he knew they was safe. So Raphael and Strongclaw begun their journey. Strongclaw kept his human form, but all in his movements were betraying the wolf in him. He moved quickly and as silent as a ghost in the woods, and Raphael followed him like his shadow. They didn't spoke to each other for a long time, then, at last, Strongclaw spoke. "Before the coming of these damnable mages, we where living where I now guide you. Our camp was in a clearing, and at the edge of this clearing was a cavern. That cavern was our Cairn, our... place of power." Raphael stood silent for a moment, then asked softly. "Strongclaw, how did they chased you of your home?" "At first, their attacks were straight-forward" said Strongclaw, not responding directly to the question, "They used magic and gun. Many of us died, but their blood flowed as well. We were ready to fight to the death for our territory, for our home. But these bastards weaved a spell around our Cairn... We loose all. Our sacred Cairn, our home so many of us have died for... our honor, for we were beaten by treachery and deviousness. We are now damned to contemplate what is rightful ours without being able to reach it." Raphael was moved by the apparent sadness in Strongclaw's tone. "A spell, Strongclaw? what kind of spell." "You will see, lick, you will see..." said Strongclaw before sinking into a grim silence. Thursday, June 8th, 12:01 a.m. At first, it was only a faint smell. A smell of decay and death, not uncommon in a forest. But as they walked on, the smell grow stronger. Even if it was night, big flies flying around, filling the night of their hypnotic buzzing. A tenth of a mile later, the smell was now an horrible stench, and flies were everywhere. By then, Raphael knew that this was not natural. A few more paces and Raphael was breathing what he may have breathed if he had rubbed his face on a rotten week-old carcass. Suddenly, Strongclaw fall down on his knees, gagging for breath. Quickly, Raphael took him by the shoulders and bring him back, were the air was breathable. "I can't go further." said Strongclaw, after he had regained his breath. "And any of us can't go, either. In fact, I'm impress that you went this far, lick. Only me and Two-Trees managed to go this far until now." Raphael let Strongclaw's words sink in, then he said "I can go further. The stench is as bad for me than for you, but it can't make me sick. I... no longer need to breath. I may be able to reach your Cairn." Strongclaw looked Raphael in the eyes, as if to judge him. "I will wait for you here." Was his only commentary. Raphael turned toward his goal. you don't longer need to breath have said his Sire, a long time ago, but he had dismissed this information at that time, judging it worthless. But now, he hold his breath, waiting to find if his Sire have told him the truth. The natural instinct to gasp was there, but it didn't change into an urgently as time went by. Five minutes later, Raphael was still holding his breath, feeling as usual, except for a disturbing feeling of alieness. Putting his hand over his mouth and nose, he pursued his walk toward his destiny. Thursday, June 8th, 12:34 a.m. Raphael didn't smell the horrible stench anymore, but it didn't spared him. The flies were still there. They were now forming a living cloud, an obscene rain. And the atmosphere was now warm. Not hot like a summer night may be, but warm as a decaying corpse may. The air itself seem viscous and repugnant. Then, slowly, an area of eerie whiteness showed before Raphael. From afar, it looked like a light shroud of snow. But as Raphael approached, he saw what it was really. Maggots. An ocean of them. Involuntary, Raphael gasped. The air that entered his lungs hit him like a mace. He dropped to the ground, making wrenched noises with his throat. The maggots immediately started to crawl on him. Raphael was dead. He was dead for years. He thought that he had cheated decay, but it was a lie. Putrefaction was around him, like a shroud. Putrefaction was in him. He was putrefaction. Raphael howled his pain as his sanity went away. But as his human part was collapsing unto itself, his Beast, the part of him that was wild and wanted to live took control. With clawed hands, the Beast crawled. He advanced, inch by inch, crushing a bed of maggots under him. It took forever. Then, it was over. No more stench, no more flies, no more maggots. The air was pure and crystalline, and the wind was cold. Raphael took long, deep breathes. Getting weakly up, he looked behind him. The maggot's blanket was still there, merely a meter from him. He was, he suddenly understood, in the eye of the storm. Knowing that his sanity may not survive a second crossing of the nightmare, he went on, looking for the Cairn. He found it quickly. A cavern, like have said Strongclaw, at the edge of a clearing. And beside it, the source of the demoniac spell. To a tree was nailed a long-dead Garou, his body putrefied beyond recognition. Raphael didn't have any aptitude for magic, but he knew instinctively that this corpse was the focus of the spell. He was thinking of what he was going to do when he heard noises, human noises. Like the predator he was, he melted with the shadows, hiding himself of the newcomers. They soon appeared. They were four, with pack-sack and, for three of them, shotguns. They walked directly toward the Cairn. They were a few paces from Raphael when he leaped on them. The first went down and died without knowing what hitted him. The second succeed to block the first blow with his gun, but the second tore his throat, nearing severing his head from his torso by its savagery. With an animalistic growl, Raphael turned toward the two survivors. He estimated that the one with a shotgun was the only one dangerous, he was mistaken. He unarmed one made a gesture with his hands and Raphael feel something broke in his head. He went down, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. The two mages gasped when he got up again, baring his fangs, hissing like a snake. The first one shouted that Raphael should be dead, that he shouldn't be alive. Apparently, the idea that he was facing an undead creature didn't cross his head. The second, more pragmatic, raised his gun. But Raphael moved faster. He grasped and hurled him with all his might. The magi hit the nailed corpse, hard. They impacted with a sickening moist sound. The spell, delicately weaved, broke with a sound like a thunderclap. All the aura of putrefaction that was surrounding the Cairn suddenly rushed toward its source. A heart beat after, only a blackened trunk and two skeletons was all that remained of the tree, the Garou and the mage. The last magi, foolishly, tried to flee. Thursday, June 8th, 1:13 a.m. When Strongclaw finally arrived, magi's blood was running in Raphael's veins. With bewilded eyes, Strongclaw looked around him. He saw the destruction brought by the spell, the remains of the four mages, and the wild flame dancing in Raphael's eyes. He looked Raphael square in the eyes, something in his posture changed. "You now need a wolf-name, Raphael." It was the first time Strongclaw called him by his name. And in his voice was respect. Saturday, June 10th, 1995 3:29 a.m. Nightblood? It was a strange name, but it sort of made sense. Raphael tried repeating the name to himself over and over to make it more familiar to himself. Strongclaw, who'd given him the name, stooped alongside him, now in human form. "You sure this a good idea?" Raphael asked him. "Why not? You said you wanted to get in good with the other licks, right?" Raphael nodded. "So, what's wrong if we stage a little rescue? We big bad wolf-types start thumping on some poor little leech, and here you come to the rescue and beat us off. It'll do wonders for your Rep and it'll win you a few allies in town. And that's what you'll need." "But if they find out that you were helping me all along" Strongclaw winked at him. "Hey, play your cards right and they won't." Though they'd been looking all night, vampires it turned out seemed to be a more elusive subject than they would have first thought. Of course, there were places, like Elysium and the Catalyst that were guaranteed to have a few licks on a Saturday night, but that was too risky. There would be too many and if Raphael ran into even one of the Brujah ancillae, he'd be in serious trouble. Instead, they were seeking a mark somewhere on the fringes of town, - a younger vampire who'd be away from the prime feeding grounds. What a surprise when she turned out to be a Brujah. "That's Caitlyn Jackson," Raphael said. "She's a nightclub singer - more respected for her voice than her fighting skill." "Is she a poor fighter then?" Eaglewind, the youngest of the small garou band, asked. "I don't know," Raphael admitted. "I only know that she doesn't fight much - not that she's a bad fighter." Strongclaw shrugged. "One way to find out." He motioned and Eaglewind and he moved up to ambush the Brujah while she was picking over some wino where he'd passed out near Z's Liquors on Laurent. Just in case, Janet Leaguebounder stood nearby, ready to aid them if Raphael's judgement of Caitlyn was in error. For her sake, Raphael hoped that she was a poor fighter. If she put up too much of a fight, the werewolves would destroy her. However, it went according to plan. Caitlyn looked like she'd been a bad tussle herself, judging from the shredded leather and drained look she was wearing. Whatever the reason, the two garou soon had her captive and Raphael entered "just in time" to prevent her from being gutted by Strongclaw while Eaglewind held her captive. Putting up a good show at fighting, Raphael "easily" bested the two garou and sent them packing. He would hook up with the Green Hills refugees later. "Raphael!" Caitlyn said, stunned when she recognized who it was that had just "saved" her unlife. "At your service, my dear," Raphael said, bowing graciously, yet watching her lest closely lest she try something underhanded. After all, she was a Brujah and gratitude wasn't a word that was necessarily in their vocabulary. Raphael waited to see if she would speak more. Dawn wasn't that far off and he would have to try and win her over before then. Saturday, June 10th, 1995 3:44 a.m. But Caitlyn didn't speak. She neither thanked Raphael nor cursed him. Simply, she straightened her clothing and then walked off, her head cocked as if listening for any pursuit. Raphael watched her until she disappeared, turning back down Laurel. "Well, that was a waste of effort," Strongclaw said, appearing suddenly alongside Raphael. "Why didn't you kill her?" "I can't fight the whole town," Raphael explained. "If I'm to live here, I'll have to find a peace somehow." Saturday, June 10th, 1995 10:03 p.m. "Where have you been?" The one who asked the question was Maria. Any mortal who may have seen her mere days ago would have gasped and renewed his or her faith in miracles. For she was no longer a nightmarish collection of wounds, but whole again. But, even if her skin was denuded of any mark, a subtle pallor, a faint stiffness in the movements and a hundred other signs was telling to someone with senses as keen as Raphael's that the healing was far from being complete. Nevertheless Raphael knew that a few more nights on a healthy and abundant diet was going to correct all that. At least, there was no feeding ratio in forest, thought Raphael, not without amusement. Since the exile, he was hunting like crazy to bring blood to Maria and to keep himself at the top of his shape. His prey was mostly deer and other big wild creatures, but, gift of the gods, he had found a poacher the night before. The poor devil was hunting mountain lions. Raphael may have paid given much to see the face of his victim when he woke at the morning, light-headed, stuffed in his jeep (whose four tires where slashed) without his wallet, hunting permit, car keys and rifle. Raphael had only kept the cash in the wallet and buried the rest somewhere where nobody (with maybe the exception of a few adventurous squirrels) would ever find it. He had thought of stealing the poacher's clothes too, but cruelty had its limits... "I went to see if my bike was still where I left it." said Raphael. "What for?" said Maria, tying her hair with the leather string Raphael had given her. In a quick town excursion, Raphael had bought clothes to Maria, since she had only shredded rags left since the Dead Devils' attack. Of course, getting clothes from her own house was out of question. Raphael was ready to bet his damned soul that the house was under very close surveillance. So he had bought her socks, panties, a pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, tennis and, on a after-thought, the leather string for the hair. Maria did not share Raphael's taste, but she accepted her new wardrobe anyway. "What for?" said Raphael with a machiavelous smile, "Because we are going to town tonight. You have an education to complete." Sunday, June 11th, 1995 12:07 a.m. The nights before, Raphael had given Maria a crash course on her new condition. The working of kindred society, the secret war that was raging on, the Who's Who, all pell-mell. Maria was reluctant at first, but she become more and more fascinated as time was passing. This was due in part because of the natural bafflement to discover that magic may have dwelling at your doorstep all your life and you never saw it, but also because she wanted to know everything about the Dead Devils, everything that may have helped her to punish the bastards that hurt her. So her head was full of new concepts. By taking her out, Raphael was planning to show her the real stuff, mostly the Elysium where he would be able to point to her a few kindred faces. Of course, Raphael knew that walking in the amusement park itself was suicide, but there were always different ways. He knew a building not far away, just tall enough to provide a good observation point. Climbing on the roof was child-play for Raphael, a little harder for Maria, still unaccustomed to the new capabilities of her body. As planned, the view was perfect. He showed to Maria the Haunted House that was the Brujah hideout. He pointed out the carousel too, wondering if Happy was there tonight. He remembered his last talk with him. "Quels que soient ses defauts, il n'est pas ennuyeux.". Indeed! In spite of himself, Raphael chuckled. His mood was strange. He was full of anger, desperate and afraid for Maria. But beneath all that, he was unable to help himself from feeling deeply thrilled. After all, he was a fighter, a predator and the air was thick with the blood to come. Shaking himself from this line of thought, Raphael scanned the park below to see if any kindred was visible. He rapidly spotted Chewy. Maria saw him also, bared her fangs and hissed lowly. Nobody else was visible for some time. After a while, Raphael saw Alex Hammel, the local Tremere, approaching the carousel, looking agitated. She said something to Chewy and entered it. A few minutes later, she exited the manege, looking even more agitated than when she entered and quickly paced away, without even looking at the ever-present Chewy. "Strange", whispered Raphael, wondering what may bother the Tremere so much. "Stranger yet, she's being followed..." added Maria. She was right. Someone was following Alex at distance. Raphael wasn't sure, but he thought he recognized the distant silhouette. "Stay here, I'll be back." he said to Maria. Without waiting for an answer, he jumped to the nearest roof. Sunday, June 11th, 1995 12:56 a.m. From roof to roof, he had followed Alex and her stalker. After having quitted the park, Alex had often looked over her shoulder, as if she sensed that someone was following her, without being sure. She slowly accelerated her pace, to finally break into a run as soon as she reached a deserted street. From his position, Raphael saw that the stalker was matching her speed and was holding on. Alex took an alley. The cry of despair told Raphael that it was a dead-end before he saw the fact himself. Still on the roofs, Raphael saw that Alex was fixing the mouth of the alley, her back on a wall. She was visibly anything but calm. "Okay, the cat and rat game is finished. Stop playing and show yourself, Raphael, you bastard." she said loudly. Raphael jerked. How did she...? But then, Raphael understood. The Tremere hadn't saw him, she was simply thinking that her stalker was him. It was kind of logic, since he was probably (probably? Heck, he was!) the enemy number one of all the vampires of Santa Cruz. A shadow appeared in the mouth of the alley. It was him, the stalker. Now Raphael was able to see him, and he was the one he thought he recognized, all right. Alex was able to see him too. The revelation that it wasn't Raphael didn't seem to relieve her. On the contrary, she let escape a terrorized hiccup. The shadow approached her slowly, confidently. Raphael was not doubting what was going to happen to Alex if he was not to intervene. Of a second, he was tempted to let her to her fate. But no, she was not a Dead Devil. She had no connection to his personal vendetta and was, to a certain degree, innocent. Without any other hesitation, he jumped to the ground, landing between Peter and his prey. The scene remained frozen for an instant. Raphael didn't speak. No need to. All that needed to be known was told by his posture. "What are you doing...? Get out of here." hissed Peter, carrying more menace in his low tone than if he had shouted the words. "I will not." responded Raphael, his voice perfectly in control. Himself slightly crouched, he prepared for violence. He was not asking himself who was really Peter. He did not think of the debt he own to him. His entire mind was on the present moment. A killer was in front of him, something to protect behind, that was all his universe. Peter made his mind. With a blinding rapidity, he rushed Raphael and seized him by the throat. Before Raphael could do anything, he was slammed against the alley wall. The impact was painful as hell but Raphael managed to slash Peter across the chest. For his reward, he was slammed again against the wall, and again, and again. Someone dropped from above. Maria, eyes red and claws gleaming. With a scream of frustration, Peter threw Raphael at the newcomer. An instant later, he was gone. Maria didn't succeeded avoiding Raphael. They crashed together. Raphael was the first to get up. His head, all bloody from the several encounters with the wall, was hurting, but not too much. Peter didn't had the time to do real damages. "Good timing" he said to Maria, offering an helping hand to Maria. "Yeah, whatever." She mumbled, taking the hand. The complete scene had taken less than two minutes. Raphael looked at Alex, still at the same place. From her appearance, she was half terrorized, half flabbergasted. Raphael was sincerely hoping that she would be more grateful than Caitlin... (Note: I'm working with the assumption that Peter is a powerful Sabbat agent mining the Camarilla society by the inside. Or maybe he's an Archon with a secret agenda... Who know?) (You get $22.46 from the Poacher's pocket.) Sunday, June 11th, 1995 1:05 a.m. "Get away from me!" Alexandra screamed. "So much for gratitude," Raphael muttered. He got up, holding up his hands to show Alexandra that he carried no weapons. Pulling Maria up by her arm, he backed off from the Tremere for a respectable distance and then held his ground. Alexandra eyed him, readying herself for what he might do next. When he did nothing, she finally tired of waiting and spoke. "You'd better get out of here," she warned him. "I'm expecting to meet a friend here. That's why I chose this spot. Unless you think you can take on Purdy, I strongly suggest you leave." Raphael smiled. "I watched you for quite a while," he confessed. "I know you weren't followed, Alex. I only intervened when that other lick tried to hurt you. How are you?" Given that he was the one who'd been mashed continuously, it seemed to stupid question on the surface to ask the unharmed Tremere. But what Raphael was trying to do was to show her that he didn't intend to hurt her. Alex glared at him, scanning around for another exit. There wasn't one apparent, though one door leading into the building behind her might be a way out if it was unlocked. Alexandra inched her way toward it. "Please stay," Raphael softly asked her. The Tremere froze and looked back at him with fear. "Look! Don't do it! I can help you," she told him. She obviously still thought he still meant her harm. "Thanks," Raphael said. "I can use help - all that I can get." He said this last with all the sincerity he could muster. Alex thought a moment and then looked up, her eyes locking with Raphaels'. "I can tell you where the Prince's crypt is. If you let me go, I'll give him to you." Raphael was shocked. "I'm no diablerist!" he swore. "You've got me all wrong." Alexandra, despite her fear, snorted in derision. "You don't believe me!" Raphael accused her. "Excuse me, but why should I?" she asked him. "You've been leaving corpses all over town, right in front of all our crypts. How you found them all, I don't know. But you've almost destroyed the Masquerade! Don't suppose once word of this gets out that one of the Justicars won't be sending their Archons here to finish us all off. Between the Archons and Anarchs, you've made sure we won't last long here." "It wasn't me?" Raphael growled. "Then it was someone who looked and acted just like you. Do you deny that you diablerized the Brujah, Lopez?" "I gave him final death - yes," Raphael agreed. But when Alexandra started to speak again, he held up his hand to cut her off. "But! I did NOT diablerize him. It was revenge for what they did to my chylde. And I swear by Cain himself that I have not been leaving dead vessels outside of anyone's crypt. My issue is with the Brujah, not with anyone else - including Prince Happy," Raphael said, throwing Alexandra's offer back at her for what it was. Alexandra pursed her lips and looked down. "I'd like to leave," she finally said. "Go ahead," Raphael told her. "You were always free to go. I only wanted to talk." "You'll let me leave?" she asked. Her voice told him she still didn't believe him. He only nodded, then adding, "If you see Purdy, tell him that I'm ready to call a truce. Tell him I've done what he wanted. I have the contacts that he wants." "What do mean by that?" Alexandra asked, her eyes squinting. "What contacts?" Raphael smiled. "Just tell him. Do that for me, and I'll forget to mention to anyone that offer you made me about the Prince." "Who'd believe you," she said defiantly. "No one, probably," Raphael agreed. "But if they did believe me" The way her eyes widened told him that she'd understood his meaning. He didn't finish, but watched her edge cautiously past him. Before she left, she turned around at the alleyway's edge and called out to him. "You'd better watch yourself, Raphael. Prince Happy has sent Mish out for you." Then she disappeared. "Who's Mish?" Maria asked him. "He's the other Gangrel. If anyone can find us, it'll be him." Maria looked up at him. "Raphael, I'm scared. I don't want to finally die." Raphael thought about telling her that it was nothing, but that would be lying. Alex Hammel's last words were the ringing of Death's bell in his mind. Tuesday, June 13th, 1995 9:32 p.m. "Come now, Nightblood," Strongclaw told him. "You have nothing to fear. If this brother vampire of your clan comes for you, we will protect you. You are both one of us," he said to Raphael and Maria. "Thank you," Raphael said. "I suppose if he hasn't found us now, he never will. I have to admit, I was worried." "Good," Strongclaw said smiling. "Then, tonight you must come running with us. The hunting is good. We have them cornered in their dens." "Who?" Raphael asked. "The Magi!" Strongclaw said. "Who else? However, I must add that the vampires are terrified to go out and have all been in hiding these past couple of nights. That vampire you fear probably won't even show his head now that we're about." "Oh, so that's where you've been," Raphael realized. He knew the werewolves, garou they called themselves, had been raiding Santa Cruz, searching for Magi to kill. This had not come without cost, but thus far the werewolves had been winning their war. Strongclaw had hinted that a very strong Night Totem Spirit had been helping them. "And the beauty of it is," Strongclaw slapped Raphael on the back, "that as long as you're with us, you're probably the only vampire in Santa Cruz who dares to show his head at night with us about. Once we're done with these Magi, we'll rebuild Green Hills Sept and then you can be Prince of the city." Raphael shook his head. "Are you going to leave any vampires to be Prince of?" he asked. "Not if we can help it - except you," Strongclaw laughed. "Come run with us," he urged. "Yes, let's get out of this claustrophobic forest," Maria begged, drawing a cross glance from the nearby garou. "I wouldn't mind going into town for a bit." Raphael shrugged. "Why not," he agreed. "Good." The werewolf chieftain scanned his meagre group of followers. "I have work this night, but I will find you a good protector who will help you when you tour the city." He smiled and then waved for one dark wolf to come forward. The wolf was jet black with yellow eyes and a red maw filled with razor sharp teeth that showed as it panted in the warm night. "Ravensheart here is a Lupus. That means he comes from the wolf and that is his true form and the one he's most comfortable in. However, he can change to man form or crinos, just like we can." Strongclaw patted Raphael on the shoulder. "He's an ahroun. That means warriour to my people. Don't worry, Raphael. Ravensheart is my best ahroun and I wouldn't let you go to town without him. But with him at your side, I know that nothing can harm you." Raphael smiled. "Thank-you, Strongclaw." He turned to the other werewolf. "Thank-you, Ravensheart." Maria petted the garou as if it were a dog. The werewolf didn't object, content merely to wait and follow. Wednesday, June 14th, 1995 1:44 a.m. Raphael and Maria wandered down 41st Avenue, leaving the broad avenue to look in the windows of shops long closed. Strongclaw had been right. In their entire night, they saw no hint of either magi or vampire, though they did twice meet groups of garou from clans other than Strongclaw's while travelling through Santa Cruz. Had it not been for Ravensheart, Raphael did not know how these meetings would have gone; but when the other garou approached, obviously seeking a fight, their accompanying ahroun had gone out to meet them, touching noses. After talking wolf talk with Ravensheart, the other garou had left, a few casting glances back at Raphael and Maria. For his own part, Ravensheart did not speak to them, preferring to remain in wolf form, trotting alongside them as he were their dog. Raphael didn't know if Ravensheart did this from preference, as Strongclaw had hinted or if because, like some others of Strongclaw's band, he objected to the presence of a vampire in their midst. Raphael understood that to some werewolves, creatures like himself were aspects of their worst enemy - the Wyrm. "Thank you," Raphael said to the garou trotting at his side. Ravensheart looked up, a questioning expression around his yellow eyes. "I just wanted to say it," Raphael told the garou. Ravensheart didn't reply, but continued to prance alongside the two of them. Maria had darted on ahead, spying in a used clothing store something she wanted. "What is it?" Raphael asked. "Oh nothing," she said, looking down at her soiled clothing. "It's just a dress something like one I wanted to buy beforeyou know." Raphael nodded. "Well, why don't we get it for you. Which one is it?" "That one," she pointed. "The brown one with the gold pattern." "It would look good on you," he agreed. Maria looked at the store hours. "They close early," she said, sadly. "I guess being around only at night has its disadvantages." Raphael scanned the store. "Wait here," he told her. Disappearing around in back, Ravensheart trailing at his heals, he searched until he found the lock for the back door. Using several bits of rebar from a nearby construction site, he was able to pry the lock of the door, damaging it severely. Quickly, before any alarm had a chance to trigger, Raphael ran in and snatched the dress. He had only come out front when the purr of a Harley told him that Maria was not alone. Purdy, the Brujah primogen, was holding Maria in a choke hold. She was trying to scratch him but he had her at his advantage and it was obviously no contest. "PURDY! NO!" Raphael screamed. Purdy, his white teeth shining through his black beard, smiled as he twisted Maria's head off, much as Raphael had done to Lopez. Even as Raphael issued some inhuman gurgle from his throat, Purdy kissed Maria's severed head on the lips and tossed it back at Raphael. Though he wanted desperately to catch Purdy, Raphael couldn't help pause a moment to see Maria's torn head rolling past him. That was when Maria's body, thrown with terrific force, smashed into Raphael throwing him down the sidewalk and through the front window of the shop he'd just robbed. (Take 5 hits, now mauled {-2}) By the time Raphael rushed back out, Purdy was gone, the roar of his Harley a distant rumble. He tried to run after, tears of blood streaming down his face, his own Beast crying to be released in revenge, but no sooner had he taken a step or two than he was yanked back, landing on his back. Mish, who hadn't quite transformed from his wolf-form, stood over Raphael, naked except for patches of black fur which were slowly disappearing. His eyes were still the same yellow wolf eyes that he'd seen before. In rage, Raphael jumped up and rushed at Mish, only be deflected and thrown against a wall. He repeated this process three times only to have Mish just toss him away, like an angry chylde. "Why don't you just destroy me," Raphael suggested. "That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?" In truth, Raphael, already in pain from the loss of his chylde, sought nothing more than oblivion. "If you're done trying to fight," Mish told him calmly, "we need to talk." Wednesday, June 14th, 1995 2:33 a.m. Raphael was in an abandoned appartment. The room was dusty and without any furniture; a small broken window was letting a small ray of moon's light enter. But Raphael was not aware of his environment. He was sitting on the floor, his knees under his chin and arms locked together. He was slowly rocking himself and twin rivulets of blood were running from his eyes. After Raphael had found out that Mish wasn't going to give him what he was craving for, something had broken in him. In a flash, the howling Beast that was inside him had disappeared, leaving an empty void behind. He had walked to the corpse of Maria and had knelt at its side, oblivious to the world. Like in a dream, he had heard as Mish told him that they should go. He only reacted when Mish took him by the arm, raised and pushed him in the good direction. Raphael started to walk, but with a odd sleepwalker's pace. The truth was that he was totally numb, inside and out. All that he was hearing was tenuous, as if he was far, far away. He was seeing all throught a crimson curtain for silent tears were still falling from his eyes. Even if the night was hot, he was feeling cold as if he was immersed in a a tank of arctic water. Mish had lead Raphael to the appartment where he was now. He had told him that it was safe and that nobody would ever visit it. He said that he should go for a few minutes and would be back. And he had left Raphael to himself, who had sat in his fetal position and hadn't moved since. Wednesday, June 14th, 1995 2:36 a.m. The noise of a door opening. Mish was back. Half to himself, half to Raphael, he said "I took care of the body... She was so young, she had taken all the night to turn to ashes. We just couldn't leave her for everybody to see." Raphael didn't respond. Mish sighed. "Look," he said, "I know it's hard and all, but you can't afford the luxury to weep for her. Not if you want to survive long enough to avenge her death." Raphael didn't react at first, but after a few instant, he asked, "Strongclaw knew it was you all along?". The words were vastly spaced and spoken hesitantly. Mish nodded. "Yeah. And it was me that asked him to assign me to your protection." After the answer had sunk in, Raphael asked simply "why?" That was the cue that Mish was waiting for. Patiently, he told Raphael that he had befriended the Garous as Raphael had done, only a century before. So it hadn't be hard to learn that another bloodsucker was now running with the refugees from the Green Hills Sept. A meeting with Strongclaw had done the rest, for Ravensheart, as Mish's wolf-name was known across all the Septs and respected in most of them. Furthermore, he had already met Strongclaw before. But, as he added with a small grin, the chieftain hadn't given any information before Mish had exposed his position in the actual situation. "Look like the old wolf hold you high in his esteem. Not to be gutted on sight by the garous is an exploit, to befriend one of their chieftains in such a short time is tour-de-force. I'm impressed." he said. In fact, until Raphael had come, Mish was the only link between the Garou and the Kindred. But Mish was taking orders from Prince Happy and no-one else, Purdy included. This situation was of course driving Purdy crazy, for he was not stupid and knew that the Garous were holding the true power in the region. Any Kindred that had an alliance with these Gaia'a warriors was sure to prosper, and any that was a nuisance for them was sure to taste the final death in record time. This was one of reasons why Happy was still in control, for it was only because of him and Mish that a truce existed between Kindred and Garou. Had he to disappear, Mish would be happy to tell his furry friends that any Kindred at Santa Cruz was now fair game. So as long as Happy had this card in his sleeve, Purdy was stalemated. When Mish heard that Raphael had killed a couple of Purdy's croonies, he had been intrigued. He had seen him at the reunion, and had judged Raphael more like a "happy-go-lucky" kind of guy than a mindless anarch. But Raphael was a Gangrel and Gangrels were his business. He had been surprised when he saw the bodies. To quote him: "if that was the work of a Gangrel, then I'm a two-headed calf". To him, all was wrong: the scent, the wounds, the whole scene. Same thing when the news that dead vessels had been found near the havens of a couple of Kindred. Some witnesses were saying that they had seen Raphael leaving the dead bodies, but Mish was less sure of that. And as soon that he had approached Raphael in his wolf-form, later, he had been sure that it wasn't his scent on the bodies. The mystery got even more complex when Mish learned that Purdy had forced Raphael to try to establish a contact with the Garous by blackmailing him over his newly-embraced chylde. It was not surprising in itself; after all Purdy was lusting for a contact of his own with the Garou and Raphael was nothing but another expendable neonate. But how could that fit with the sudden murders spread? Logic was indicating that Raphael was avenging himself, but Mish was persuaded that it wasn't him that was perpetrating the murders. Was it Purdy who was plotting to get him eliminated? By exposing all the kindred havens? A little on the overkill side... Anyway, Purdy was more a follower of the "if you must do it, do it yourself" school of thought. Then who? It was about that time that Happy asked to see Mish, who had happily come to the summons, for he had information to share and advice to get. Happy had called him because Purdy himself had asked a bloodhunt for Raphael. Happy heard Mish in private. He had not looked surprised by any bit of information revealed to him. After Mish had finished, Happy went to the amusement park and delivered a heart-taking speech about how Raphael was a menace for the kindred society and how he shouldn't be allowed to live a minute longer. He said that since a Gangrel was needed to hunt another Gangrel, Mish was going to be the official executor of his order. But the real mission that he had given to Mish was slightly different: he was to find Raphael, but rather to kill him, he was to watch him closely, be his "guardian-angel". To quote the mad Prince: "When one finds a lamb tied to a stake, he doesn't shoot it but rather inspects the near bushes for the hunter and the tiger". Mish hadn't understood what the Prince had meant, if he had meant anything at all, but he now had simple orders to follow. And he had followed them until yesterday. When he had met Happy to give him the usual report, Happy had received him with a sad expression painted on his face. He told Mish that he was hearing the sea weeping and the gulls laughing. When Mish asked him what that meant, Happy told him that it was omens of chaos and destruction, that it was announcing the end of a cycle and the birth of a new one. Before leaving Mish, he asked him to overlook even more closely over Raphael in the following days. Mish knew that Happy was as mad as a hatter, but that he also had also an eery capacity to predict things. So he had complied and asked Strongclaw to present him to Raphael in his wolf form. The rest was history. Mish finished his story and waited for Raphael to react. Raphael stood silent for a couple of seconds, wiped the tears from his face and stood up. When he was on his feet, he looked Mish in the eyes and said, "Tell Happy I want to see him tomorrow. I don't care where. If he accepts, you know where to find me.". Without any other word, he exited the room. Wednesday, June 14th, 1995 4:57 a.m. Strongclaw saw Raphael as he emerged from a near bush. He smiled and opened his mouth to tease the Kindred, but the expression he saw on Raphael's face stopped him square. "What happened?" he rather asked. Raphael, who had reached the center of the camp, looked at Strongclaw with eyes filled with pain. As an answer, he raised his head and howled to the moon, his howl carrying all his grief. Soon a wolf joined him, maybe in sympathy, maybe by instinct. Another joined the howl, then another. Before long a good portion of the pack was howling with Raphael, the rest silently watching the event. As Raphael howled, his Beast awoke. He always had accepted it with its blessing and its curse, but now he was positively embracing it. His howl changed from a cry of pain to a shriek of rage, a promise that Maria would be avenged. Wednesday, June 14th, 1995 10:07 p.m. "A taxi?" Raphael asked. "Why not?" came Mish's response. "How better to get a blood hunted neonite past roving bands of werewolves and through packs of Brujah ghouls to Elysium. You're the one who wanted to see the Prince." Raphael shrugged. In fact he didn't care how he got to the Prince, as long as he got there. But after hanging out with the werewolf refugees, it seemed such a blase and human contrivance. Raphael and Mish got into the vehicle. "To the Boardwalk," Mish told the driver. Wednesday, June 14th, 1995 10:46 p.m. Mish led the way, pushing his rather small body through the large hulking leather clad men and women that represented the still human members of Los Diablos Muertos. The Prince's own ghouls, represented as Security Guards, were there as well making for an appearance more like an army camp than a amusement park. To make up for the loss of two Brujah, Purdy had mobilized the Brujah ghouls, taking over the ghouls that had once belonged to Darc and Lopez and who now looked to Purdy for their ration of vitae until new masters could be found for them. But through it all, the kine still wandered, oblivious to the terror that walked amongst them. Still, this was Elysium and nothing could touch them as long as they were at the Boardwalk. Getting their had been a chore. The Brujah were jumpy ever since werewolves had made a go for the Prince recently. Seven ghouls and three werewolves had died in that fight and things were tense all over the city. Mish told Raphael that the other clans were blaming the Brujah for stirring things up in the mountains, and thus inviting retaliation. "What's he doing here!" Chewy interposed his gigantic body in front of the diminutive but formidable Gangrel elder. "Get out of my way," Mish told him, seeming undaunted in the least. "This is still Elysium and we're here to see the Prince." Chewy pointed a finger at Raphael. "THAT is the subject of a bloodhunt. You can't" "MOVE!" Raphael bellowed so loud, that the crowd of ghouls shrank back and innocent kine attending the park all looked around. Still, Chewy didn't look like he was going to back down but someone behind the Brujah had a different mind. "Let them come through," Purdy told Chewy. "Purrdddeee!" Raphael hissed, advancing on the Brujah elder. It was Mish who pulled him back. "Elysium! You violate that now, and nothing will save you," Mish reminded Raphael. Raphael ignored him. "You bastard! You killed my chylde!" Purdy walked up to Raphael, who was being held in check my Mish and Chewy. "Chylde, I don't know what you're talking about. Don't think I wouldn't have, but frankly, I've been so busy of late that I haven't had the time." "LIAR!" Raphael spat blood on Purdy's face. There was a gasp from the attending Brujah and their ghouls. All looked at Purdy, as if expecting him to rip Raphael to shreds. "Remember Purdy," Mish hissed, "Elysium." Purdy nodded, wiping the bloody spittle from his beard with a towel offered him by Rebecca. "Your final death is only a matter of time," Purdy said, actually smiling at Raphael. "But Mish is right. This is Elysium." "Anytime!" Raphael promised. "I'll rip you to bloody shreds of stinking dead meat for what you did to her." "You keep coming back to this," Purdy mused. "That has my curiosity. When exactly did this happen?" "You know, bâtard!" Raphael swore. "Don't play games with me for the benefit of your Brujah whores here. At least stand out for the coward you are!" Raphael turned to the assembled Dead Devils. "I want you to all know that after he killed my chylde, he turned tail and RAN rather than face ME!" "Raphael!" Mish hissed. "SHUT UP! You don't know what you're talking about!" "WHAT!" Raphael screamed. "Now, you too! You SAW him! Tell Them!" Raphael gestured to the crowd. Instead, Mish turned to Purdy. "Tell him," he said, nodding to Raphael, "where you were last night? - all last night?" Purdy smiled. "Where we all were - except you!" Purdy said to Mish, in an accusatory manner. "Fighting the fuckin furbacks who were trying to cap the Prince." Raphael squinted. "Liar!" Purdy shook his head. "Forget it. I don't have to convince you. You're done already. Final death for you is just a formality." Mish butted in. "That's why I brought you here, Raphael. I found out that Purdy was here, protecting the Prince. Most of the Toreador, Ventrue and Nosferatu were here too, along with the Tremere. Now they would not lie; certainly not to protect the likes of him," Mish nodded to Purdy. "Now do you see?" Raphael thought a moment. He remembered Alexandra Hammel and Strongclaw telling him that vampires were accusing him, Raphael, of leaving bodies outside crypts. And now this. "But I SAW him," Raphael insisted to Mish. Looking at Purdy once more, he said "I saw him plain as day." "You saw someone," Mish agreed. "But it couldn't have been Purdy." Raphael was silent. Mish turned to Purdy. "I want to take him back with me." Purdy shook his head. "He's toast. He's mine to piss on - especially after what happened here tonight." Purdy turned to Raphael. "The second you step off Boardwalk asphalt, you're history!" "Purdy?" Rebecca butted in. She whispered in his hear. Purdy just nodded. Turning the assembled bikers and security guards. "Alright, listen up. We have a mover in the crowd. I want whoever it is found, staked and brought to the Haunted Castle - but discreetly childer. Remember your Traditions - like the First one." "O.K. Until I settle this, dickwipe here can exist. Savor your last few hours of unlife you pathetic excuse for a vampire." It was Purdy's turn to spit in Raphael's face. Turning back to Mish, Purdy said. "You can save him for the windig. Happy wants to address the crowd and everyone's supposed to be here at midnight, tomorrow night." Purdy turned to Chewy. "You guard the Prince personally. Ice anyone but me who gets near him." The Brujah and the ghouls broke up Later, Mish came to Raphael, who was leaning over the railing, looking down on the beach and distant surf. "One of the Brujah ghouls was found murdered. It looks like there might be an assassin in the crowd. Purdy tried to talk the Prince out of making a public appearance but he refuses. Try talking sense into a Malkavian, eh?" "What happens now?" Raphael asked. "I don't know. You'd better hope the Prince cares enough for you to save your skin from Purdy. You've made one big fucking hard-on of an enemy." "Who cares," Raphael said, thinking of Maria who would not be at the assembly. Thursday, June 15th, 1995 9:56 p.m. Raphael woke in the niche under the tree he had so briefly shared with Maria. Not far away, Strongclaw's pack could be heard. Getting out of Elysium last night had not caused any real problem, Purdy's troops occupied as they were to find the interloper that had again killed one of their own. So Raphael had managed to return to the forest, the last place that could give him an illusion of security. He had used the rest of the night to think. So Purdy was not the one that had murdered Maria. But if it was not him, who...? At first, the question was without answer. But the more Raphael thought of it, the more a figure emerged in his mind. Peter. Could it be him? It could, certainly, but why? Had he not helped him in more than occasion? It was him that told him where Maria was and helped him to rescue her. But he had also attacked Alexandra, and if Raphael had not been there... Raphael didn't know Alexandra personally, but he couldn't fathom why someone would want to ambush and kill her. Except if this person's target was not Alexandra herself, but Alexandra as a member of the Santa Cruz's kindred community. Later, as Raphael went to sleep, he was still without answers. At least he was trusting Mish about Purdy not being Maria's killer. Not that it did anything to change Raphael's dispositions against the Brujah and his minions, though. They still had kidnapped his chylde, and there would be a retribution for that. But another target was presently higher on his list, Maria's murderer. And as Raphael knew perfectly well that his time was counted, he was firmly decided to find him as quickly as possible. All was indicating that this man was Peter, but Raphael had no proof to change this theory into a fact. His heart was screaming for blood, but he was reluctant to hunt down a man that was perhaps innocent, a man to who he had a debt. As the sun appeared at the horizon, Raphael finally made his mind. He was going to find Peter, and he was to find where exactly this kindred fitted in the picture. Raphael looked toward the way where the Garous camp was. He was tempted to join them, maybe to forget his present problems and vendetta by hunting at their side. But no, he couldn't afford himself this luxury. Tonight, Happy was supposed to speak to all Santa Cruz's kindred. It was probably suicide, but Raphael had the feeling that he should assist to this reunion. After all, he wanted to speak to Happy, and maybe that a couple of uninvited guests could be in the crowd. Guests that had the hobby of dropping dead bodies before havens disguised as him. Yes, Raphael decided, I'm going to town tonight. Thursday, June 15th, 1995 11:44 p.m. Raphael parked his bike at the edge of the amusement park. The night was still too young and there were too many people on the street for one of Purdy's minions to try something. To exit the place after the meeting was going to be a trifle harder, though. Raphael had the idea that Purdy wasn't going to be lenient on him this night. As he entered the park, he saw that the word that Happy was to speak tonight had been passed. Quickly, he was able to spot a couple of kindred, Alexandra among them. Alexandra saw him too, and immediately turned her glance in another direction. Raphael made no move toward her, for he knew that he was now marked, and that any kindred seen with him, even in Elysium, was going to get hell from Purdy, literally. Silently, Raphael moved in the crowd, trying to melt in it. If it was possible, there were even more bikers and security guards than the night before. The kindred were busy talking amongst themselves, while their ghoul bodyguards hovered nearby amongst the kine. Los Diablos Muertos had had to round everyone up, making sure that they showed up at the meeting and in some cases, providing an escort. With the werewolves running amuck, most kindred were afraid to venture out. News of the Toreador, Claudia Bertini's final death had gotten out. She'd been destroyed two nights before - torn apart by werewolves while out hunting, while the Toreador primogen, Mudita, had been savagely mauled. Once, when a wolf howled in the distance, all conversation stopped and everyone paused, as if expecting another lupine attack, obviously fearing that what had happened to Claudia and Mudita would happen to them. And, with the recent attack on Elysium, speculation and rumours were floating that the attack had only been beaten off with much loss being taken by the Brujah. Normally, a Brujah setback would have been a cause célèbre for most Santa Cruz vampires, but recently, with wolves at the door, most vampires seemed more afraid of change than anything else. The Brujah were cruel and overbearing - but at least they were seen as protection - or at least they had once been. Other talking speculated on who had been leaving corpses around crypts. Evil glances were shot at the one vampire no one expected to find at Elysium - Raphael, the very culprit who'd been accused of leaving the dead vessels. Word was circulating that Raphael had diablerized his own chylde to try and get out from under the bloodhunt and that he was present trying to beg the Prince to let him back into favor. Raphael ignored this speculation, damning all kindred in his heart's bitterness. Other topics discussed floated around speculation as to why a Giovanni had come to the city - especially in such a troubled time when it would have been safer to stay away. The rich Ventrue, Spiral, it was said had already left, being flown out in a private helicopter and was said to be now in London. The Brujah doctor, Brandon Lawerence, it was said found a way to cut out. Many other kindred would have also sought a way to leave Santa Cruz had they the means. The Giovanni, Mira was her name, cut an elegant figure in her Gianfranco Ferre dress, hanging out mostly with the remaining Ventrue, Thomas Crown and Diane Forester. She seemed lively and animate, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the storm brewing around them all. And last, the topic everyone was wondering about but no one was voicing was why Happy had summoned them all. Was it something to do with Raphael, or the werewolves? Did the Giovanni have something to do with it? It was apparent that Purdy wasn't taking any chance about Happy's security. As Raphael walked among them, he heard whispers and saw ghouls drawing others ghouls attention on him. Yup, it was going to be very hard indeed to exit this hornet nest. "You came, chylde? Niiiiiiice. Real nice." Said someone behind Raphael. It was Purdy, flanked to one side by Rebecca, by Chewy to the other. Raphael bared his fangs and hissed softly. "Cute dentition. I bet it will do a perfect necklace for my babe, eh Rebecca?" Said Purdy as he walked past Raphael. Rebecca laughed and blew a kiss to Raphael. Raphael watched them until they disappeared, half because you don't turn your back to your enemies, half because someone was nagging him. Something had been wrong with the trio. He couldn't put his finger on what, but he was sure that something had been _wrong_. Thinking about this strange feeling, Raphael walked toward the little uplifted carousel from where Happy was going to make his speech. It was near the carousel, and already a dozens of guards where moving around. Raphael positioned himself in a corner, his mind turning feverishly. The ambient sound increase a little. From the carousel emerged Prince Happy, escorted by Purdy, Rebecca and Chewy. Raphael watched them absentmindedly as they got on the carousel. What was nagging him about Purdy and friends? Was it something visual? No, they were the same as their usual selves. Hell, they were even wearing the same clothes they must had been embraced in. No, the difference had been as subtle and evanescent as a flavor. Or a scent. Suddenly all fall in place for Raphael. With a growl he charged toward the carousel, claws fully extended and fangs bared. From somewhere, someone shouted "HEY! The stray dog's up to something!". But hardly anyone put themselves in Raphael's path, in part because he had crossed most of the distance between him and the carousel before anyone had registered what he was doing, in part because getting in the way of a frenzying Gangrel is not the instinctive thing to do for any sensed ghoul. On the carousel, Happy was not paying the slightest attention to what was happening below and was raising his arms, preparing to speak to his audience. Purdy, him, was looking straight at Raphael. He was wearing a death-head grin, obviously satisfied that Raphael was now literally running in his lap. He positioned himself before Happy and waited, ready to tear Raphael to ribbons. But as Raphael jumped on the carousel and leaped on his prey, Purdy actually screamed, for it was not him or Happy that Raphael attacked, but Rebecca. The impact knocked Raphael and Rebecca down the carousel. Even before they landed, Raphael's claws begun to draw red arabesques in the air. They met the ground with a loud "thud". Raphael's attack didn't falter for a second. He knew that if he was to give a breathing room to his victim, then he was finished. All that he was wishing for was that he could give the death blow before anything else happened. But, of course, something else happened. As Raphael was raising his arm to slash another time, a black hand closed on it. The hand twisted and Raphael's arm broke with a sharp noise. Raphael screamed and tried to release his arm from Chewy grip, but the Brujah was quicker. In seconds, he was holding Raphael in a bear hug and was pulling his head by his hairs, giving himself a free access to Raphael's neck. Raphael tried to move but the Brujah was too powerful. It was the end. Chewy was to dig his fangs in his throat and rip his flesh open, giving him a one-way ticket toward oblivion. But the death blow didn't come. Raphael looked at Chewy face and read surprise in it as he was looking where Raphael and Rebecca had fallen. Raphael twisted his head and looked at the same spot, understanding Chewy's surprise but not sharing it. Rebecca and Raphael had fallen from the carousel. Rebecca, now healed, was still laying down, eagerly about to watch the spectacle of Raphael's slaughter. However, there was a murmur from the crowd which parted to reveal - Rebecca! "What the FUCK!" this Rebecca spat, gazing at her unholy twin lying on the ground beside Chewy and Raphael. "IMPOSTER!" the first Rebecca screamed. "GET HER!" The first Rebecca jumped on and tackled the second Rebecca, tossing her back onto the carousel. There was screaming, and mounds of torn hair, all of it black; but one Rebecca, and no one could be sure which she was, seemed to have the upper hand when a gunshot rang out. One of the Rebeccas staggered back, holding her stomach. As the two Rebeccas were busy tearing each others brains out, Chewy, still holding Raphael in his bear hug, turned his glance toward Purdy, asking for instructions. Purdy saw him and nodded in direction of the two Rebeccas, drawing his gun. Chewy nodded back, throwing Raphael roughly to the ground and advanced toward one of the Rebeccas. Chewy tackled her, pinning her down. "Get off me you STUPID FUCK!" this Rebecca screamed, but Chewy held her down. With this opportunity, the other Rebecca fled into the workings of the carousel. "HAPPY!" Purdy screamed his warning. Chewy tossed his Rebecca away and he and a number of ghouls ran towards the carousel. There were sounds of more shooting. The Brujah backed off as two screaming, howling Malkavian Princes came tumbling out into the open. Shedding even more blood onto the area, the two identical Prince Happys finally parted and stood glaring at one another. Raphael immediately tried to take advantage of this momentary freedom, but the Dead Devils were faster. Before he could get up, three bikers were on his back and were trying to pin him down. Raphael struggled widly and almost managed to shrug the men off his back, but in the end his still-healing arm and the raw strength of the three ghouls defeated him. Immobilized, he saw the two Happys tumble down the carousel and all that ensued. "You are a pathetic excuse for an imposter," one of the Happys said while straightening his suit. "No, obviously you are," the other Happy said, preening himself in a compact mirrour while retwirling his moustache. "Anyone with eyes can see that you lack the panache of a real Prince." "Which one IS the real, Prince?" Mudita, the Toreador primogen asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind. "I can't tell them apart. They both have a similar aura. They're both psychotic." She pressed her fingers to her temples. "I can't read their thoughts well. I see terrible dark things from both of them - but I can't tell you which is the real Prince." "There is a way," one of the Happys said, looking toward Thomas Crown, who was standing toward the back of the crowd. The other Happy looked at the Happy who'd just spoken and nodded his head. "Yes, I agree. That is the way. Thomas?" Crown's jaw dropped. "NO! I refuse!" "What's going on?" Alexandra Hammel asked. "What's he - they - talking about?" The Happy who'd spoken last volunteered, "Our brother, Thomas, knows someone - a mutual confidant - that knows our person well and who could easily identify the real Prince." "Never!" Crown vowed. "I would rather see her dead than humiliated in this way!" "Aren't you worried that it is you who will be humiliated?" the other Happy pointed out. "Good point!" the other Happy agreed. "Merci," Happy replied, smiling. Thomas Crown pushed his way toward the front of the crowd. "End this charade!" he demanded of Purdy. "We can't tell which one is the real, Happy. We can't take the chance of killing the wrong one. I say kill them both!" Purdy looked over at Crown. "Get your hand off my jacket," he growled. "Come off it, man! We can be rid of this excuse of a Prince once and for all! YOU can take his place! I'll support YOU! Anything is better than that laughing stock of a lick sitting up there in stereo! It's more than I can bear! Kill them both! Then, the Camarilla would finally respect us. Even that Anarch rabble over in San Jose and Salinas - THEY would respect YOU. You can finally bring peace to the city." "Cmon!" Chewy urged. "Cmon Purdy, let's dump Happyass and we'll make you our Prince! What about it?" The Brujah ghouls took up the chorus, cheering for Purdy. Rebecca could be seen whispering something in Purdy's ear that looked like, "Do it." Obviously, the moment was ripe for Purdy to take the reigns. Purdy pushed Crown roughly back into the crowd, nearly knocking over the Gangrel, Mish, who stood in the way. "Crown, who're you trying to fool? Everyone know's that you won't be satisfied until you're Prince. And you'd get the Toreador or Gangrel to try and ice me once you figured you could get away with it - and the Tremere would help." "Me?" Alexandra shook her head. "No, not me, Purdy. I just want to serve, trust me." Obviously Alexandra thought that Purdy might make actually make a go of becoming Prince. "And Crown, if I ever did become Prince, my first official act would be to have you staked for sunrise. So give it a rest. Face it, Happy's Prince because he's the lesser of many evils. If you became Prince, the anarchs would waltz here in a quick minute. You don't have the briefest of notions of how to deal with them. And no one, besides the Brujah - and maybe the Nosferatu - really want me as Prince." Purdy scanned the crowd. No one disputed him thus far. "All of you would scheme and connive to bring me down. But with Happy, everyone's willing to let it slide. No one's really jolly, but we all exist - together!" Purdy scanned the crowd. There were grumbles but when he looked that way, voices grew silent. "Otherwise, the whole candle melts. Point taken?" There was silence, but no one offered disagreement. "So, what do we do now?" the Nosferatu, Loparlo asked. "Do we just wait?" Purdy looked at the two Happys. "I don't think we have much of a choice right now - until someone here can come up with a way to tell who's who?" Purdy turned to Crown. "What about this confidant that the Happys were mentioning?" "Forget it," Crown hissed. "You had your chance, Purdy. By throwing away my help, you've shown yourself to be a greater idiot than those two on the carousel. Don't expect my aid in anything further. Frankly, I don't care who rules here!" "Alright. If anyone has any ideas, chuck it up. Otherwise, we all hang until this thing is resolved - and childer - from the way it looks it's goin ta be a real long night." Caitlyn Jackson stormed forward, obviously upset. "Come on, Crown, bring this woman forward! We need to get this crap out of the way and concentrate on getting some normality restored here. If you can solve this problem, then fucking solve it!", Caitlyn shouted over the mumbling voices around her. As Crown turned to face her, she tucked her hand inside her leather jacket. Crown just sneered at her, turning to Purdy and commenting, "Perdicas, put a leash on your bitch. She's barking and it's starting to annoy me." "FUCK YOU!" Caitlyn pulled a gun out, pointing it at Crown's head. "You BASTARD! I'm not forgetting what you tried to do to me. Don't push it!" "I don't know what you're talking about," Crown yawned, ignoring the gun. Caitlyn addressed the others in the crowd. "I got the imposter posing as Raphael trying to dump the body of one of our ghouls in front of Crown's crypt. I save his ass and he tries to ice me for it." Crown's sneer crept back across his face. "Oh that." He smiled, looking something like a nicely dressed lizard with a grin. "Sorry my dear. I could hardly tell you apart. Street trash - it all looks the same." Something in Caitlyn snapped and she pulled the trigger. However Purdy, moving so fast that no one could even remember having seen him move, suddenly had the gun in his hand, even as it went off, firing harmlessly onto the beach. Everyone watched a bunch of sand fly up and then it was totally silent. Crown looked unperturbed. Casually, he pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his face. "I won't insist on a Bloodhunt for violating Elysium," he told Caitlyn. "But learn to watch your temper. Next time" He finished without continuing. "Yeah," Caitlyn nodded. "Next time," she promised. Purdy, observing this, handed the gun back to Caitlyn. Speaking like nothing had happened, he asked Crown, "So who IS this babe the Happys were mentioning?" Crown just glared at him and walked away without answering. A number of his own well armed prepy ghouls appeared carrying automatic weapons, covering his tracks. He started up a conversation with Mira Giovanni and soon the two of them had pulled away from the others while his ghouls formed a screen around them. Friday, June 16th, 1995 12:17 a.m. Purdy had just finished his speech. He motionned to Chewy and other Dead Devils to guard the two Happys and walked in the direction of Raphael. Raphael, still pined down, only saw his boots approaching and stopping a few inches of his face. Purdy kneel beside Raphael and pulled his head up by his hair. "Tell me, you little shithead, how did you know it wasn't Rebecca on the stage?" Raphael growled, then squinted from pain as the biker who was holding his broken arm to the ground twisted it sharply. He looked Purdy in the eyes and said slowly, as if each syllable was difficult to pronounce, "The scent... Her scent wasn't right..." Purdy nodded. "It makes sense. Could you do the same trick with these two suckers?" he said pointing at the two Happys. Raphael looked at the two Happys and asked himself the question, could he? Of course, he was not thinking of finding the impostor for Purdy, but because this impostor was most surely Maria's killer and he was his. But the impostor and the true Happy had tumbled together. They had both blood of the other on them, which was blending the odors. Raphael was dubious that in these conditions he could smell any difference, but... He was drawn out of his thoughts by another twist of his arm. He passed his tongue on his lips and said "I maybe can". Purdy released his grip on Raphael's hair. "What we have to loose anyway? Well, stray dog, what're you waiting for? Get up and take a good sniff." The weight on Raphael's limbs disappeared. With the maximum of decorum he could muster, Raphael got up. Slowly he walked toward the two Happys, who were looking at him with an amused glance. Inside of him, the Beast was rattling its cage. Raphael got up and sniffed. As he feared. The mingling of blood had perhaps thrown off the scent - or had it? He sniffed again. Merd! He could have sworn that both had the same scent now. There had been a difference, but? There was no way a vampire could change his scent as well as appearance, was there? Not wanting to admit his inability to do anything, Raphael glared at both Happys. Which was the murderer of his chylde? Raphael turned to Mish and the others and shook his head. He couldn't tell them apart. Friday, June 16th, 1995 12:25 a.m. The vampires, even Raphael who was made safe for the moment by virtue of Elysium, broke up to talk. They wouldn't leave until dismissed by Purdy. After all, with all of the lupine activity, most of them would need the Dead Devils to escort them to the vicinity of their crypts anyway. Raphael saw the Brujah, Caitlyn talking to Miryam. They talked for a while and then Raphael saw Caitlyn approaching him. "Hi Raphael", said Caitlyn as she approached the now less than dapper looking kindred, "I think we should talk?" Raphael momentarely stopped and turned his head toward Caitlyn. Now near him, Caitlyn was in measure to have a good look at Raphael, and to find that her previous evaluation of "less than dapper" was a gross euphemism. His clothes were tore and caked with blood. The man below was not looking better. The slowness that his arm was taking to heal was speaking of how far his healing powers have been stretched lately. But the worse was the man eyes. The last time Caitlyn had saw Raphael, the night were he had saved her from the furbacks, he had looked and sounded like a bon vivant. But now his eyes were two pools of undiluated rage and despair. When Caitlyn looked at them, she distinctively felt danger. Caitlyn said to Raphael, "First of all, I own you a debt of thanks for helping me out against those two furbacks the other night. If you hadn't stepped in I might well have been dusted. I repay my debts, and if you need any help working you way through any of this shit that we are now all in, just ask." With a grin Caitlyn added, "In truth, I've been backing your side of this all the way through, even when the bloodhunt had been called. I reckoned something was wrong somewhere and even when the imposter turned up at Crown's place looking like you, and threatened to ice me, I knew it couldn't be you. Just didn't make sense, man. I mean, why risk your own neck against two lupines to keep me alive, just so you could shoot me a couple of days later?" "I might be a bit busy over the next few days, as the Brujah have been somewhat depleted and Purdy's gonna need every one of us left to stand up and be counted. A word of warning for you though - watch out for Crown! He's a might too ambitious for my liking, and if he thought that offing a few more of us would leave him in a good position to take control here, he'd do it. Even those in his own clan aren't safe if you ask me. Just keep on your toes and watch out for anyone moving to take advantage for themselves. And remember, if you need me, I'm yours!" Raphael listened to all of Caitlyn speech. As she finished, he grinned wearily, then chuckled softly, looking for the briefest moment his old self, and said, "Thanks for the support. I think you will not have to be endebted for long." He pointed the two Happys, deep in conversation with themselves. "As soon as I or someone else find which one of these two are the impersonating bastard, he's mine. And after that... I guess there will be a reckoning with Purdy. But who know? Aaah, mademoiselle, it have been a pleasure to meet you, even such... extreme circonstances." To that, Raphael returned his attention to the Happys. He hesitated for a fraction of second, then changed into a wolf and broke into a run in direction of the two Princes. He was just about to leap onto the carousel when a heavy blow landed into his side, cracking his ribs and tearing his flesh. Turning he saw another wolf, Mish, having transformed back into Ravensheart had interecepted him. Brujah, moving quickly through Celerity, screened the two Happys. Just as Mish started to transform, screaming at them to stop, a hail of gunfire shredded Raphael's body. It reached a point past pain and he felt the bullets passing through his body, tearing bone and dead sinew until the world grew hollow around him and he was no more. (Raphael has entered into torpor since he doesn't have blood enough to heal his wounds.) July 4, 9:40pm Boardwalk Everybody on the Boardwalk was oooh and aaaahing over the firework. There was a kind of magic in the air. The people weren't kinder than usual, or life less cruel, it's just that it seemed less important tonight. This night was a night of festivities, a time where it was possible, at least for a few hours, to forget all one's problems, to merge with the crowd and simply 'live.' Raphael and Omen were on the fringue of the crowd. The pair was not downright weird, but they attracted a few glances. Of course, the fact that Omen was a dog (a mongrel that looked like a cross between a german sheperd, a terrier - or something not quite identifiable) wasn't helping, as the third of the human adults and every child couldn't help themselves when around an even remotely cute animal. On a strictly scientific basis, Omen wasn't really cute; he was too big and wild-looking to be. But his eyes were full of intelligence, his energetic tail wagging, and his endless provision of tricks were compensating largely for it. Raphael was far more calmer. Sitting on the ground, his back against the trunk of a tree, he was looking at the firework display, a brooding expression on his face. At first glance, he looked in his mid-twenties. His clothes (jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket) were well used as was the man himself, hair long and loose, chin badly in need of a shave; he was conveying the image of the usual biker, with maybe a slight hippyish touch. From time to time, Omen returned to him, licking his hands and giving a single joyfull bark. Raphael would then smile lightly and scratches the god between his ears before letting Omen return to his crowd exploration. If someone had looked at Raphael when the fireworks reached their climax, they would have seen that his eyes were locked at the brightest displays, and that streaks too dark to be tears was slowly rolling down his cheeks. Then the show was over. As the majority of the spectators were leaving the Boardwalk, Raphael slowly got to his feet, more like as if he was a ninety-years old cripple. He whistled to his dog, looked a long time at the end of the Boardwalk, where the silhouette of attractions like the carousel could be seen. He then began to walk, seemingly aimlessly. July 4, 10:10pm Boardwalk Raphael was finishing what was his last walk on the Boardwalk. It was a grim pilgrimage as the place was heavy with painful memories; but it was one that Raphael had absolutly to make. He took great care to look at everything, trying to fix every color, every scent in his memory. He had seen a couple of kindred and was sure that some of them had also seen him, but nobody tried to bother him. That was good. Raphael stopped his slow walk, his subconscious knowing before him where his wandering feet had brought him. He was looking at a dress in the window of a cheap tourist shop. It reminded him where he had gone upon first awakening that evening. With a haunted feeling, he had come to the very spot where Maria had been killed. His head, had turned toward the small boutique's vitrin. The dress Maria had wanted was still there. It hadn't hit him then, but now, seeing this copy at the Boardwalk, the world suddenly spinned around Raphael. He closed his eyes and reached blindly for the wall, trying to remain on his feet. "Are you alright, sir?" asked a woman with concerned tone, near him. "Yes. I am. Thank you." he lied. He opened his eyes and looked at the woman, a policewoman. "I have been... very ill, lately, that's all. I'm just taking my breath and I will be okay." "Are you sure, you don't seem quite well. If you want, I could..." "No, thank you. It's kind but I'm getting better, honest to God." cut in Raphael, but not unkindly. There was a short pause. "You know, you really look like someone I knew." he said in a soft, sad whisper. There was an akward pause. Finaly, the policewoman kneeled before Omen, his dog and petted the dog's head. "It's a nice dog you have, mister." she said quite lamely. Raphael smiled, and for the merest of instant the aura of sadness receeded around him. "Did you heard the dame, Omen? What a dog of the world do when given such a compliment?" Omen looked quickly at Raphael, then at her. With all the grace of a born aristocrat, Omen bowed to the cop, who laughed and clapped her hands at the trick. "I must go," she said, looking at another police officer coming in their direction. "You're sure you will be okay?" "Yes. I'm all right. Thank you..." "Suzana," said the woman unexpectly. "Raphael," said Raphael, still smiling. "And Omen." Suzana smiled back, waved and walked away. Raphael watched her go. His farewell to the city was done. A last rite to perform and he was ready to go. He whistled Omen and resumed his own walk.
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