Vampire the Requiem - New Wave Requiem.pdf - Vampire the Requiem - FatumTech

It’s cold out, that damnable cold that treats the thickest wool like tissue paper . My legs,

exposed to the chill night air, aren’t numb exactly, but they’re getting clumsy, unwieldy . I

wonder if they’re freezing solid . The neon glow from the window of Lucy’s seems like it should

provide some warmth, but that’s the thing about advertisement: it reels you in with that glow,

only to leave you stranded in the chill with watered - down beer . I will the stolen blood inside me

to move, to circulate, and am rewarded with a little comfort in my legs and a growing hunger

in my stomach .

I sigh (one of my favorite affectations), which makes me feel slightly better, and am considering

going back inside when Harold inally pulls up in his ancient truck . One of the headlights is out,

and I take a second to appreciate that as a metaphor for the man’s entire worldview . Even

though he’s half an hour late, he honks his obnoxious fucking horn, and it takes everything I’ve

learned from the Dragons not to lose it and kick out the other light with one of my snow boots .

The door opens as I reach for it, and Springsteen’s new single is on the radio . Harold’s already

picked up Darryl (probably why he’s late), and the latter’s sitting bitch . He smiles at me, that

irritatingly ingratiating smile full of promises — you know, that guy who always smiles like he

gets you, like he knows what it’s like, man. I get in beside him, hauling my backpack into my lap

before pulling the door closed .

“Nice place,” he says with a smirk as his bright white eyes appraise Lucy’s . Harold spins the

wheels on the parking lot slush when he slams it into reverse, just before the truck lurches

backwards . The truck’s a standard transmission, with one of those shifters that rises from the

loor . Darryl has to sit with his legs spread, one foot on either side of the axel well, and Harold’s

calloused hand rests lightly on the shaft that protrudes from between them . I smirk, glad for the

small blessing of being the last in .

“Thanks,” I answer dryly . He glances at me, and he knows what I’m thanking him for . He gets it .

...

We meet up with Robyn under the El station at Madison and Wabash, just south of that stretch of

Wabash called Jeweler’s Row . It’s late on a Sunday, so all that shit’s closed, but the bright white

neon remains, illuminating the street, promising diamonds, rings, necklaces, the usual . One of

the trains rumbles overhead, sending a cascade of icy water down from the rusty buttresses .

Robyn descends from the station like a goddess, frightened pigeons scurrying before her, an

avian honor - guard . Must be something she’s exuding, because I feel it, a tight knot in my useless

stomach . She’s wearing this white jacket with shoulder pads to make the Bears proud, over a top

as black as night . The whole thing serves to highlight every angle of her features . She’s a born

predator, an art deco snow leopard . Darryl takes a step back from her, so I know he feels it, too .

Only Harold seems unperturbed . Power of faith and all that shit, I guess .

“Knock it off,” Darryl grunts . Robyn smiles demurely, that false “Who? Me?” innocence, and

that riles me up again… the monster inside me, I mean . I take a moment, close my eyes and

chastise the unreasoning Beast until it calms . I realize I’m on edge tonight . There’s a tension

hanging in the air like snow, barely registering to my senses . My companions are blind to this,

of course . They’re blind to a great deal .

“Showing off ain’t getting it done,” Harold mutters in his hick drawl . He follows it up with something

he must have heard in church: “One can exult in the monster without exalting it . ” I wonder who told

him that . Those words seem ill - itted to his rustic tongue . Robyn catches it, too .

“Oh, Harold,” she purrs . “If you’d stop listening to the blather of old dead men and give an ear

to your soul for once, you might ind what you’re really looking for . ” Harold shrugs .

“He’s a jealous God, and there ain’t no gods before him,” he answers, pushing his aviator frame

glasses up his narrow nose before brushing snow slush from his moustache .

“We’re Damned, right?” she answers with a question . “Damned from birth? Why not enjoy it?”

“It’s too cold and too early for argument,” Darryl cuts in, always the mediator . He glances at

his watch . “Do you think it would kill him to be on time for once?” he says, expertly transforming

Harold and Robyn’s rivalry towards one another into annoyance with the errant member of our

little coterie . I watch one of the pigeons take light for an iron perch slung under the tracks .

“If Kenneth had an appointment with the dawn, he would still manage to be ten minutes late,”

Robyn intones, imbuing her words with the heavy weight of ritual or prophecy, like Kenneth’s

incessant tardiness should be the focus of a koan or something . I glance at her, meeting her

eyes just as they inish giving my wardrobe a quick once over . She smirks slightly in disapproval

of my heavy coat and Wednesday Addams dress . “We all have our place in this, right Molly?”

“One man in his time plays many parts,” I answer in Shakespeare without much enthusiasm,

then nod towards Kenneth’s approaching limo . “We have our exits . And our entrances . ” The car

stops beside the three of us, allowing us a moment to commune with our blurred relections in

the polished paint before the doors unlock with a resounding click .

...

Kenneth’s a bit of an asshole, and he reminds me of that fact as we make the three - block drive

to the front entrance of the Art Institute, the Matriarch’s favored Elysium, in his stretch Lincoln .

The car is immaculate, the wood accents polished to a shine, the leather seats cushioned

precisely enough . He’s somehow even managed to make it smell like a brand new vehicle . Or

maybe it is brand new . Maybe he goes out and buys one of these every month . I don’t think he’s

that rich, but with those Invictus you never know . Of course, the whole illusion of wealth and

power is broken every time he opens his mouth .

“We wouldn’t have to trot out this dog and pony show every month if you kids would grow up

and get real jobs . It’s all about money, guys, and money’s about thinking outside the box . ” I’m not

sure what this means . Kenneth has a tendency to speak in buzzwords and high - priced corporate

jargon . He looks at Harold . “It’s about showing up in a real car, not a rusted - out P . O . S . ”

“This your real car? ” Harold almost growls the question . “Good luck hauling a damn canoe

in this . ” I rub the bridge of my nose, surprised for a moment when my ingers bump into my

glasses . I don’t need them, not since the change; I only wear them for gatherings . Arthur, my

sire, says they make me look smart . Even among the dead, appearances matter .

“It’s not meaningless ritual,” Darryl interjects before the talk can devolve into a ight about

whose car is bigger than whose . “It’s about solidarity . It’s about appearances . ”

“Solidarity? What the fuck is solidarity, anyway?” Kenneth asks . “We’re dead, D . I’m not running

the fucking vampire Salvation Army out of my fucking limo . Or is this more Commie shit?” He

smirks, lashing a little fang . “Hey, tell me . Your blood as red as your politics?”

Darryl rolls his eyes . “Consider it enlightened self - interest, Ken,” he replies . “That’s a concept

you can respect, right?”

“How precisely is it in my best interests to give you four a ride to the big party?”

“We arrive together and we’re sending a message . We’re saying that we’re a coterie . That you

fuck with one of us, you fuck with all of us . ” Darryl spreads his hands to indicate all four of our

little group and gets this earnest tone in his voice .

“No, I get that, man . And I get how you hanging out in my shadow makes you look all cool . I get

that . What I’m trying to igure out, and maybe you can help me here, is what’s in it for me . ”

“Not everyone respects the all - mighty dollar, Kenneth darling,” Robyn answers, “or even that

you’re the prim’s kid . ” Kenneth’s expression sours, which brings the slightest smile to my own

lips . His sire is a bit of a sensitive spot for him . “But even they’ll think twice about harming you

to get back at your sire when they remember that you’ve got Harold backing you up, or that you

know a blood witch like me . Or like Molly, of course . ”

I shoot her a strained smile . Blood witch indeed . Robyn thinks that the Dragons stole some

deiled version of the magic that her own religion practices . She doesn’t get that there’s nothing

magical about what we do . But vampires take even more time to adopt the new than does the

mortal herd . When you live for centuries, it can take a little time to adapt .

I’ve tuned out Kenneth’s response . Just as well… we’re at Elysium .

...

I’m fond of the Art Institute . Especially tonight, with the light snow dancing about the still,

silent lions that stand sentinel at the entrance . One of Shark Bostow’s boys is at the door,

checking us for Beasts and reminding us of the rules of Elysium: no weapons, no blood tricks .

We pass the inspection easily; none of us have learned to mask our inner predators yet . The

rules, though — I shake my head as Kenneth hands over a set of knives, Robyn surrenders a

curved ritual blade and Darryl produces a . 38 special from his waistband . The hound tags each

and hands them over to a breather to be taken to the coat check .

“Better safe than sorry’s all I’m saying, toots,” Kenneth whispers in my ear as we move deeper

into the museum, past the marble stairs that lead up into the second - loor galleries . I shy away

from Ken . He either fed on his way or is wasting blood, because his breath is warm on my ear .

Fucking creep .

Lillian, Mistress of Elysium, greets us in Gunsaulus Hall, which connects the two halves of

the museum and spans the rail tracks that run between Michigan and Columbus . The hall also

houses the museum’s collection of European arms and armor . She’s like those weapons, really:

beautiful, deadly and incredibly old . She smiles, her fangs slightly extended, and I briely consider

leeing for my life . Instead, I offer my own stiff smile as Robyn bows to her .

Vampire the Requiem - New Wave Requiem.pdf

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