On a Darkling Plain (15 page)

Dan inferred that she’d been young and mortal in the ’60s. So had he, but the hippie movement hadn’t attracted him as it obviously had her. Instead, he’d wound up in the service, and shortly thereafter in Nam. Maybe he was a conformist by temperament. Maybe that was why, after his transformation at the hands of his unknown sire, he’d tried so hard to find a place for himself inside the Camarilla. It was only after repeated rejections that he’d attempted to join what amounted to the Kindred counterculture, only to discover that, at least hitherto, its adherents hadn’t wanted him either.

With an utter lack of self-consciousness, Laurie peeled off her filthy, perforated clothing, revealing the trim, smallbreasted ivory body underneath. Even those vampires who still behaved modestly in the presence of mortals often had no qualms about stripping in front of other Kindred; they knew their fellow undead were incapable of a sexual response.

Raking through a jumbled mass of shirts, underwear, socks and jeans, Dan asked, “How long have you been an anarch?”

“Fifteen years,” Laurie replied. She selected a long muslin

dress, then walked to the restroom across the hall and started

filling the sink. The pipes groaned and the water hissed. “I

joined after I ran away from my sire. I always knew she w’as

crazy and mean, but eventually I found out that she’d

tortured and fed on a bunch of her other childer, for no

reason at all. I was sure my name was on the menu, too.

Other elders knew what kind of monster she was, but nobody

had ever done anything about it because she was too well-

connected. That’s the so-called justice of the Camarilla for » .

you.

Dan found a large blue T-shirt that looked as if it would fit him. “But do you really think you can bring the old vamps down?” he asked.

“Sure!” she said, sounding surprised, as if it had been a silly question. She picked up a bar of soap and started to wash herself, slopping water over the edge of the basin onto the grubby linoleum floor. “Wyatt says that the old ones are powerful but stagnant. They can’t adapt to modern ways of doing things, and that will give us the advantage in the end.”

Remembering some of the Ventrue he’d seen clad in powdered wigs and tricorn hats like tourist guides at Williamsburg, Dan suspected that she might be right. As he pulled off his old shirt, he said, “Is Wyatt the leader?” He’d certainly gotten that impression last night.

“Anarchs don’t have leaders,” the female Kindred said, reaching for a Holiday Inn bath towel draped over the back of a chair, “anymore than we have princes, Justicars, or any of that. We’re all equal. But he is the cell coordinator.”

“I don’t know what that means,” said Dan.

“It means that I handle communications with our brothers and sisters around the world,” said a pleasant baritone voice. Wyatt appeared in the doorway. Startled, Dan was chagrined that, his heightened hearing notwithstanding, he hadn’t heard the vampire in white approaching.

“There are a lot of Kindred who believe in the anarch cause,” said Laurie, emerging from the bathroom still nude. She wasn’t completely dry, and water dripped from her body onto the floor. “More every day. But most of them aren’t ready to devote their lives to fighting for it. I only reached that point myself a few weeks back. The Camarilla is hunting us militants, so all information is on a need-to-know basis. That way, if a member of the underground gets captured, he can’t be forced to give away too much. Wyatt says it’s a classic resistance tactic.” She looked up at the vampire with the bleached mohawk as if for approval, and he gave her an indulgent smile.

“What were you guys doing in Sarasota last night?” Dan asked.

Wyatt lifted a milk-white eyebrow. “You do ask a lot of questions.”

Inwardly, Dan winced. Wyatt was right, he was coming on too strong. He didn’t have the instincts of a spy, didn’t know how to elicit information unobtrusively. “Sorry. 1 was just wondering.”

“No offense taken,” said Wyatt lightly. Dan noticed that the patterns of rivets in the other Kindred’s leather coat seemed to form some sort of indecipherable characters, like hieroglyphs in an extinct language. “You’ve wandered into a strange situation. Of course you have questions, and we’ll be glad to answer most of them — after which, I’m sure, you won’t mind answering a few of ours. We were checking out the lay of the land in Sarasota for future reference, and if we’d gotten a chance to pick off one of the prince’s stooges, that would have been fine, too. Right now, Roger Phillips’ domain is one of the Movement’s special projects. We’re going to bring him down and set up an Anarch Free State, just like they did in California.”

“Why pick on old Roger?” Dan asked. “I mean,
I’ve
got reason to hate his guts, but I also know that he and his primogen have a pretty benevolent reputation as elders go.” True, the prince had rebuffed
him,
but then, until last night, so had the rest of the vampire world. “Wouldn’t it be better PR to knock off some Marquis de Sade type that everybody hates?”

Laurie peered at Dan quizzically. “The princes are
all
corrupt,” she said. “They
all
have to go.”

“She’s right,” Wyatt said. “Besides, we have to start someplace, and Roger Phillips and his brood are
soft
— Toreador who haven’t fought a real fight in decades. The strategy is to knock over the easy targets first, increasing our strength with the plunder and new recruits we win in the process, then tackle the tough ones.”

“That makes sense,” Dan conceded. “When’s the big push?”

“I don’t know that myself,” Wyatt said. “I’m waiting for my contacts to let me know. But I’m sure it’s coming soon.” “Are you the guys committing those ‘Dracula’ murders?” Dan asked.

Wyatt shook his head. “No, but maybe some other cell is responsible. I wouldn’t be surprised. It’s an effective tactic; it ought to confuse, distract and demoralize the prince’s people.”

Effective but dangerous,
Dan thought. If it worked
too
well, if it actually did blow the Masquerade to hell, then
all
Kindred, Camarilla and anarchs alike, might suffer.

“We’re the guys trashing the Toreador’s precious art,” Wyatt continued. “Some of it, anyway. Have you heard about that?”

Dan decided to play dumb. It might seem suspicious if he was too conversant with Toreador affairs. “I heard on the news that some art had been destroyed, but I didn’t know that it had anything to do with Roger and his brood.”

“Well, it does,” said the white-clad vampire, grinning. “It’s their treasure, their heritage and obsession. Once it’s lost, I bet they won’t even care about defending their turf. And when they try to retrieve the art for safekeeping, it gives us a chance to ambush them.”

Dan nodded. “Smart.”

“Anything else you’d like to know?” Wyatt asked.

Dan shrugged. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Then it’s my turn,” said Wyatt. “I take it that you lived in Sarasota?” It was a sensible assumption since, except for members of the Gangrel and Ravnos clans, Kindred were generally loath to travel away from their well-defended havens.

“Yeah,” Dan replied.

“What was your relationship with the prince and his

vassals?”

“Hostile,” said Dan. “When I first hit town, I presented myself to Prince Rog like the Fifth Tradition says you’re supposed to. Since I was a low-life Caitiff, he made it clear that I wasn’t welcome to hang around. I did anyway, for spite, and because I had nowhere else to go. Afterward, his people tried periodically to run me out of the prime hunting areas. Sometimes the confrontations got pretty nasty.

“When I saw Judy Morgan — the black woman in the cap — and her Brujah hassling you, the way they’ve hassled me only more so, I just felt an urge to help you. So I did.”

“It must have been a
strong
urge,” said Wyatt, “if it made you lay your life on the line for perfect strangers. How did you happen to be in that particular area?”

“I like to walk in the Gardens,” Dan said. “It’s peaceful.” He wondered if Wyatt interrogated every newcomer like this. He was glad that, being undead, he couldn’t sweat.

“I believe Dan’s what he seems to be,” Laurie said diffidently. She clearly didn’t want Wyatt, her guru, to think that she was questioning his judgment. “He
did
rescue us, and I saw him kill at least one of the bikers in the process.” “You have to admit, his presence at the battle was quite a coincidence,” Wyatt said reasonably. “And his aura is a confusing, constantly changing blend of colors. That suggests that he may have something to hide.” Then the anarch leader smiled. “But you know what? I believe him, too. Heck,
all
Kindred have something to hide, and like you said, he did kill for us. What’s more, I just made a call to find out something about him.” Dan wondered
who
Wyatt had called. “Danny boy told us the truth about his life in Sarasota, except that he didn’t mention how ‘nasty’ things really got. A few nights ago he beat one of the Brujah unconscious and diabolized her.”

Dan tensed.
Now,
he thought,
now they’ll send me away if they don’t try to kill me outright.
Trying to move unobtrusively, he shifted his feet into a fighting stance.

Wyatt laughed, his white teeth gleaming.
“Now
1 can read your aura,” he said. “Scared you, didn’t I? But there’s no need to be afraid. To the Movement, diabolism is no crime as long as you pick the right target. In fact, it’s a weapon and an objective of the revolution. We aren’t just going to kill the elders, we’re going to drink them. Take their power for ourselves.”

Dan smiled grimly. “Now that idea, I like.”

“Sorry if the third degree bugged you,” Wyatt said, “but we have to maintain security. Now that we’re sure you’re clean, how do you feel about the idea of joining us? I understand that you didn’t know we were anarchs when you helped us, but now you do, and I believe you know what the Movement stands for, too. The destruction of the Camarilla and the princes. The liberation of the young from the tyranny of the old, and the Caitiff from the domination of the clans. The right to live where and how you like, and sire as many progeny as you like, without asking anyone’s permission.”

Dan wondered what would happen if he declined the proposition. Would the anarchs let him walk away, now that he’d heard something of their plans and seen their lair? Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to find out. Narrowing his eyes thoughtfully, he pretended to consider the invitation for a moment and then said, “Count me in.”

Wyatt grinned. “All right!” he crowed, “I knew you had the right stuff!” Laurie threw her arms around Dan and hugged him, pressing her cool, bare body against his. Even though the anarchs were the enemy, even though he’d come here to betray them, for a moment the spy felt a surge of joy. No one who understood his true nature, no one of his own kind, had treated him like this since his sire had transformed and abandoned him.

“What do you like to do for fun?” Wyatt asked.

“1 don’t know,” said Dan, surprised by the question. “Work out, swim, go to the movies, listen to music, dance—” “Great!” Wyatt said, all boyish enthusiasm. The calculating guerrilla leader had given way to the exuberant teenager whose unaging shape he wore. “You guys finish cleaning up and then the five of us will go out, feed and celebrate having a new recruit. The revolution can spare us for one night.”

TEN:
QUESTIONS. SORROWS AND DOUBTS

We have suffered the inevitable consequences of a combination of unpreparedness and feeble counsel.

— Julian Amery, speech before the House of Commons

Elliott parked his Jaguar among the other cars and motorcycles clustered in front of Roger’s beach house. As he climbed out, he caught the sound of two of his fellow Toreador, Glenn and Karen, murmuring in the gazebo to his right. Glenn was smoking, the red tip of his cigarette shining in the darkness that filled the enclosure.

“I can’t believe it,” said Karen sadly. “So many killed in one night. And the beautiful, beautiful art, shattered, burned and shredded, gone forever!”

“And we don’t even have any real intelligence to show for it,” said Glenn. “We still have no idea who’s behind all this. The team that went to Buenos Aires was ambushed by Malkavians. The one we sent to Seattle ran afoul of what seemed to be a bunch of Caitiff. The one that visited St. Louis fought two Ravnos and their ghouls. Where’s the
link?”
“I don’t know,” said Karen.

“Neither do I,” said her companion. The cigarette flared brighter as he inhaled. “All I know is that everything’s falling apart. I nearly got shot just trying to hunt this evening. It’s
hard
when the humans are on their guard.” He hesitated. “You know that I think the world of Roger.” “Yes,” Karen said.

“And I’m not a coward. But if he’s never going to get well, if no one else can fix everything that’s wrong, maybe we’d be better off in another domain. Other cities have Toreador princes. Some of them have told me they like my sculpture! I’m sure one of them would make a place for me.” Wincing, Elliott trudged up the steps to the mansion’s front door. He paused reflexively to check his attire, pointless though the effort seemed to be. Instead of his usual elegantly tailored suit, he was wearing the seedy, beige polyester thrift-shop offering that had been the first fresh, unripped, unbloodied outfit that he could lay his hands on in Ohio. As he’d driven away from Sarasota-Bradenton Municipal Airport, he’d been tempted to go home and change. But he’d felt honor-bound to come directly to Roger’s mansion, even though it was the last place in the world he wanted to be.

He was still fidgeting with his lapels when Lazio threw open the door. “I saw you drive up,” the mortal said. “Are you all right?”

“I suppose,” Elliott said.

“Have you fed?” Lazio asked.

“Yes,” said Elliott, experiencing a pang of guilt. The sensation was becoming horribly familiar. “A young woman in Dayton. I was too brutal, but I was rushed. I had to catch my plane. How many Toreador died last night?”