Embrace Ch 06

Out in the garden is a neglected corner with an old pagoda and a little fish pond. None of the servants ever follow Amelia here. This feast of all souls the shroud is so threadbare in this secluded spot that the blurred outline of spirits can be seen passing by.

"I wonder if any of them really are to blame." Amelia says softly. "They hurt themselves just as badly as they hurt each other."

The freezing rain drizzles steadily onto the black pond water, the gentle hiss punctuated by the sharp drip of water from the climbing roses onto a little tin watering can. The frost is thick on the ground.

"Felix." she sighs. "I know you can hear me perfectly well."

Her body is as cold as the love seat it rests upon. Just like that awful night almost five years ago, she's drenched to the bone. Dawn is many hours away.

"Even Eleanor. How can I blame her? Her mind must be a tangled mess from all your scheming. And Paracida's. And this mysterious Tythos. She's as helpless as I am, isn't she?"

"You don't say?" Felix says at last.

"What happened that night? What did they get up to between Eleanor's room and the courtroom? It's a blank, I feel sick whenever I..."

"Look kid. Don't do this to yourself."

"Don't be silly Felix." She smiles and brushes away the vitae from her eye. "This is all I have left of her."

"It was her choice. She knew the price."

"Will you ever tell me what really happened?" Amelia asks. Her grief leaves her hollow tonight. Not even anger at his cruel words breaks the ice on her heart. "Beyond the shroud I mean?" Amelia presses her eyes shut tight and the image that will never leave her is there. Necromancy is about control, purity of mind. There is no hope that Meryem pulled off her ritual in that frenzied state.

"It's not the way she would have chosen to go, I'll grant you that." He sniggers. "But you're wrong, kid. Dead wrong. When you're allowed back to open court, swallow your pride. Make an apology to Anastasia, watch the warlock bitch's face as you kiss her hand. Trust Felix."

*

Trust Felix. As sires go, he's not the worst. Meryem was right about everything. Amelia finds solace in that. Eleanor's tutelage is thorough and the elder always treats her fairly. The only sticking point is Amelia's distaste for combat training. Though she attends monthly lessons as ordered, she makes no progress at all, and it doesn't escape Eleanor's notice.

"Regretfully, I'm not so enamored of this existence that I'd do anyone a mischief simply to defend myself." she explains to Eleanor.

The elder is amused

"You care so little for those that rely on you for protection?"

"Not so." Amelia insists. "Do I not excel at the disciplines of presence and dominate? I defend my interests well enough."

"No childe under my tutelage will leave it without a basic grounding in the martial arts. If you refuse my instruction, you will endure the consequences. Do we understand one another?"

"What good was strength to Meryem?" Amelia retorts. "There will always be someone stronger..."

"Enough." Eleanor says cooly. "There are limits to my patience. I do not expect you to rival those whose martial prowess defines them, but this is pathetic." The elder makes a two fingered jab at Amelia's shoulder with barely any force behind it and sends her sprawling onto her back. "Even that pampered fool Leopoldine could overpower you. Get up."

Amelia scrambles to her feet and dusts herself down. Nothing is bruised but her pride. She tries a different tack.

"Madame Eleanor, I will of course endure whatever pleases you, but my heart isn't in this at all."

"You think it pleases me to waste my time?" Eleanor scoffs. "You will learn to defend yourself. It is merely this tedious method that does not suit. You were never one for lessons and tutors."

*

The first time Amelia encounters Eleanor's new "method" she is on an errand to the library. On the long narrow passageway between the clan meeting room and the stairs to a deeper level, she can feel eyes on her. She turns and barely has time to register the club swinging at her face. In uncanny silence broken only by her own shriek of terror, four large figures converge on her.

A heavy knee falls onto her chest, pinning her shoulders down and knocking the air out of her. Cruel booted feet grind her hands into the dirt and only fortitude preserves the little bones. Blows rain down from all angles, cracking into her head and shins with punishing force. And then, as quickly as they descend on her, they flee. Their footsteps fade into distant laughter. She lies in the dark for a long moment before she dares rise up.

She is badly shaken on her return home, and Sylvie makes a fuss of her.

There's no doubt Eleanor arranged the assault. It happens again three days later, but this time Amelia is ready for it. She drops immediately to the ground and balls herself up against the rain of fists and nightsticks. They tear her clothes this time and spit on her as they leave.

"Please just do as she asks." Sylvie pleads as she patches Amelia's clothes together. "It will only get worse."

As much as she reassures Sylvie that Eleanor is merely teaching caution the best way she can, Amelia is fearful. The beast is difficult to control when it's surprised and Amelia has no wish to kill or maim servants that are simply following orders.

Felix has been away for weeks now. If he were here, Amelia would certainly ask him to put a stop to these dangerous lessons. He's out of reach again. Amelia's dreams become fitful with worry. At times it's like being buried under the cobwebs, cocooned in silk, with tiny little hands pulling at her, threatening to unravel the walls and leave her screaming in sunlight. When she wakes, a thin sheen of vitae stains the sheets.

Next time Amelia is ordered to attend the palace she is expecting to encounter the ruffians. She draws the cloak of obfuscate around herself and gets a good look at them while they're hiding. Four ghouls. Four strong young men in the prime of life. She passes them by and heads over to the corridor outside Eleanor's apartment where she uses presence to summon all four of them.

She doesn't hold back her screams as they lay into her, after all, their blood is up now, their beasts are close to the surface. Once they realise their target really won't fight back, they make a game of it, pinning her down and battering her naked backside with their nightsticks.

Amelia is sure they're about to do worse when Eleanor opens the door at last and all four of them scatter.

"What the devil are you playing at!"

Amelia is pulled into the apartment by a handful of hair where she stands, clutching her tattered gown across her breasts. Elizabeth is standing by the fireplace with a smirk on her face. She bows deeply to her sire and takes her leave without a word, closing the door gently behind her.

"What a performance." Eleanor fumes. "Do you think this is acceptable behaviour?"

"No madame." Amelia says contritely. She sinks to her knees and allows the gown to fall as it may.

"I expect you felt you had no choice but to test me this way?"

Amelia says nothing, and the silence lengthens to awkwardness, but it would be foolish to speak out of turn and antagonise Eleanor.

"Explain yourself!"

Amelia winces but the expected blow doesn't come. She forces herself to look Eleanor in the eye. The cupid's bow of the elder's perfect mouth is pressed away to nothing by anger, but that only makes her eyes more beautiful. There are flecks of gold in the hazel green.

"I will gladly endure whatever pleases you, my lady, but I cannot endure your indifference."

"Well now you have my undivided attention." Eleanor seethes.

"Every time I come back here they're waiting to jump me and it's such a waste of time. I know how to hide in the shadows." Amelia says. "Jerome taught me. I easily evaded the four of them, and then I suppose I felt a little sorry for them. I thought you might punish them if they didn't do as you ordered so... I thought it might amuse you. I am really sorry to have disturbed you, Madame Eleanor."

"Curious. Did you not take to heart our instruction to avoid communicating with other kindred? Especially outside the clan?"

"Meryem always insisted." Amelia says a little too firmly. "I was at her service. I'm sure you understand."

"You are shameless. In any case, I have no time for your games. We shall soon see if your self confidence is merely vanity or if your claims have substance."

As she speaks she hurriedly signs off a letter and seals it with her own mark rather than the prince's.

"You will carry this missive to the Librarian's own hand, and no other. France has fallen, as I am sure he is aware. The prince has decreed that any and all kindred fleeing the war must be accommodated out of sight in the catacombs, so as to protect the masquerade. The Librarian will be compensated by the city in due course."

"F... fallen?" Amelia stammers. "What war?"

"Go to the Pestäule and wait for one of his Nosferatu to contact you. Make sure you are not seen until you get there, the streets are not safe tonight."

*

There is an air of chaos in Vienna. The guards are spread too thin, sounds of drunkenness and violence come from all quarters. Amelia stands shivering in a doorway near the plague column, clutching Eleanor's letter in her fist. She really does feel naked without the protection of obfuscate, and the ragged clothes don't help.

The gangrel sheriff recognises her from court and nods as he passes. A moment later a misshapen shadow separates from the wall behind him. The Nosferatu moves closer to Amelia, draped from head to toe in plague doctor's armour. Mindful of her status, Amelia keeps her eyes respectfully on the stranger's face and curtseys smartly.

"What are you doing out here?" A male voice asks. The muffled words are difficult to make out, their tone impossible to read. She lets her attention shift to his aura as she replies.

"Please sir, I am a pupil of Madame Eleanor. I bear an urgent message from her for the Librarian."

His aura is difficult to make out.

"The Librarian is a busy man. Maggot might take a message for him."

He stands aside with a small bow to reveal a smaller figure and Amelia is startled by his appearance. Maggot was an obvious choice for a name. Shifting her attention stoically to his ruined and infested face, she dips her knee once again, this time a little lower, and Maggot gives a wet chuckle.

"Pretty princess." he says. Again, his voice and expression give no clue to his intentions. His aura is mainly the pale blue of calm, with little threads of pink compassion. "I will take it. The labyrinth is no place for the likes of you."

"Please forgive me gentlemen," Amelia swallows nervously, "but I'm not permitted to deliver my message to anyone but the Librarian."

The pink shade of his aura deepens to a darker rose colour.

"So you shall." the doctor says. "Follow Maggot, little princess. Don't you worry, we will keep you safe."

The doctor disappears back into the shadows but Maggot and Amelia take a different path, down into a storm drain ankle deep in water. The Nosferatu heaves aside a cast iron grate and bids Amelia go ahead. He pulls the metal back into place and does the same to a similar barrier a little further in. Amelia reaches blindly ahead, keeping one hand on the wall beside her, as the water rises above her knees. Then the wall gives way to an opening on her left, and a drier set of steps leads up in a short spiral. A light above them is set high in the wall above a circular grate.

Maggot pauses and Amelia waits expectantly. She has lost sight of his aura concentrating on her footing, but still doesn't feel threatened by him. He has a calming presence. He seems more at peace with his deformity than Meryem ever was.

Suddenly without warning a single block of the stonework shifts, popping out at their feet.

"Maggot first, then you. Safer."

Amelia follows the Nosferatu into the crawl space. It is dry, and the stonework seems sound. The passage spirals gently downward. Amelia is suddenly a lot more aware of her beast, and the mindless urge to run and hide.

She is conscious of the figure moving in the darkness ahead, and in these close quarters there is definitely an odour of decay. Worse is the growing dread of not knowing where the tunnel will end, imagining how many thousands of tonnes of earth would bury them together if the ceiling failed and the walls closed in.

"Please sir, is it much further now?" she asks, hoping her obvious terror does not offend her only guide.

"This way to keep you safe." He answers. "Feels longer than I remember." He chuckles. "Here we are."

Again there's a grinding of stone on stone and as Maggot leaves the tunnel light floods in. Amelia winces as she crawls out into a larger tunnel lit by torches.

It's soon obvious that this Nosferatu warren dwarfs the Ventrue domain beneath Shönbrun. Dozens of kindred are simply sitting along the tunnels, alone or in small groups, wounded Nosferatu, some with horrific burns, some with missing limbs. Between them one or two unharmed kindred distribute animals for the wounded to feed on. Amelia can't help but stare in disbelief as an enormous tame bear is led from one injured kindred to another.

"Come on princess."

Amelia tries to keep her attention firmly on Maggot as he leads her into the more populated area within. They skirt the edge of a massive space with a shallow pool in the centre where a handful of man sized crocodiles are floating beneath the surface.

And then the itch starts. The little tickle in the back of her head, drawing her closer to someone nearby. She ignores it, but it's not a gentle tug, not a gentle request. Every step they're growing closer. The sound of argument is growing closer.

"I won't stand for it, this is outrageous!" A man's voice, a prussian accent raised in anger.

"Don't be absurd, man, it's for everyone's safety." A woman's voice, close to losing her patience.

"I've always had the word of acceptance in Vienna!"

"This ain't Vienna." A rougher male voice.

"Unhand me this instant!"

The protagonists come into view at the next junction.

"You're making this much harder on yourself." The woman shouts. "Hold still."

The sickening sound of a stake breaking through ribs ends the argument. Jeering ensues from a few bystanders but the woman's voice cuts them off.

"Quiet! Or you'll be next."

The nosferatu woman turns to greet Maggot and embraces him heartily. Her skin is dry as a snake's, the livid red meat beneath covered with blackened flakes of charcoal.

"You're a sight for sore eyes. What have you dragged in with you?"

"She needs to speak to the old man, Angelique." Maggot says gently. "She's with the archon."

Angelique seems to size Amelia up.

"I don't recognise her. Do you?"

"Aw, you do know her, Angelique. She spoke up for Sophia, remember? She backed up Cyrano about the gargoyles."

"Can't she speak for herself?"

Maggot gives Amelia his best imitation of an encouraging smile and a couple of his wriggly passengers escape from the corners of his mouth.

"Madame." Amelia curtseys and pauses before rising. At this rate she'll have to prostrate herself before the mysterious Librarian entirely. "I am but a humble childe. I come to deliver a message to the Librarian from my patron, the Lady Eleanor."

"Guess not then." Angelique says. "He's asked not to be disturbed. You'll have to wait."

Amelia stands awkwardly as the two of them move away to talk in private. There are more non nosferatu around here. One lifts his glass of rat's blood in a macabre toast and the cobweb thread snaps tight.

The malkavian winks and draws his finger across his throat.

Amelia gives the barest nod to acknowledge the fellow and calmly walks over to Maggot and Angelique.

"Please sir, madame, but I cannot contain myself any longer. Do either of you know what's happening?"

Angelique rests a hand on Amelia's arm.

"There. Doesn't that feel better?" she teases gently. "No point being so uptight, is there?"

"Who are all these people?" Amelia asks, as ever tears threaten as her feelings overwhelm her.

"Mostly toreador refugees from the cities of France. They've come seeking the Librarian's protection against the hordes of anarchs. And I mean hordes. Last night there was a coordinated coup across all the cities of France. Princes have fallen, heads have rolled. Witnesses say every malkavian went into synchronised frenzy from Paris to Marseille, from the Loire to the Alps."

"If you're protecting them what... why did you assault that poor prussian gentleman?"

"The ventrue? He turned his nose up at our herd and demanded to hunt for himself. As you can imagine, that would be unbelievably foolish right now."

Creeping dread grips Amelia as she feels the light touch of cobwebs connecting her to other faceless figures in the dark.

"Do you think the Librarian will be long?"

"I hope not. Maggot doesn't have time to sit around and babysit."

Angelique leaves them and resumes policing the waifs and strays scattered throughout the warren.

The plague doctor appears beneath the torch opposite and when Amelia turns back to Maggot, her guide is gone. She feels the odd sensation of being pulled into obfuscate without trying. The plague doctor offers her an arm, and Amelia takes it, allows him to lead her away from the crowded tunnels and through a pair of wrought iron gates into a well lit sanctuary beyond. The stone work of the pillars is as fine as any cathedral, and beautifully ordered but simple furniture lines the walls. Of course there is a library.

Amelia makes a belated attempt at observing protocol as she takes a knee and offers Eleanor's crumpled letter with a trembling hand.

"A thousand pardons, sir. Forgive my ignorance."

He takes the letter in his gloved hand and sets it aside before removing the cumbersome hood and mask. His skin is white and puffy as a day old corpse, his hairless scalp like a polished skull. His ears are pointed and tufted with reddish fur like a bat's. A rodent-like slant to his face makes his fangs more obvious although they are not extended at all, and his black eyes meet Amelia's with a dignified intelligence entirely at odds with his appearance.

"Take a seat, childe."

Amelia sits at the table, the Librarian takes the seat opposite. He removes the thick leather gloves and takes up Eleanor's note in his clawed hand.

"You may inform your mistress that I demand no payment for doing the duty expected of any camarilla kindred. But if she's interested, several of Prince Gustav's ambassadors are currently in my custody, and I would be grateful to be relieved of such a burden. She will understand."

"Thank you, sir." Amelia considers the implications of her next words very carefully. "I should like to think most viennese kindred will be keen to take care of their own. Certainly Jerome is most well endowed with the resources to shelter any malkavian vagrants."

"Is that so?" The Librarian replies. "Thankfully, we have not received any petitioners of that clan."

"I beg your pardon, sir, but that is not the case at all."

The Librarian's brow furrows and Amelia struggles to maintain respectful eye contact.

"Then they have not had the courtesy to present themselves honestly to the sheriff or his agents."

"I expect they're afraid to." Amelia says.

"I would be grateful if you might take the time to point out these guests, so that they might take full advantage of our hospitality."

*

The Librarian walks Amelia through the entire warren. He cloaks them both as she follows the threads to the hidden malkavians, and Angelique neutralises them one by one with a stake through the heart. As the threat travels along the cobwebs it becomes more difficult. Amelia's clanmates become agitated and try to flee before Angelique reaches them, but they have no hope of escaping the labyrinth.