As Far As You Know
Teasers
Black Roses
Just after dawn, Junaid pulled the Cadillac up to the curb in front of the building and switched off the engine. He craned his neck around slowly, scanning the street for anything unusual. The college neighborhood seemed to be deserted. Then with one last quick sweep of his hand to ensure that the digital recorder that he wore was still in place, he opened the driver side door and stepped out into the cold drizzling rain.
As he jogged up the cement stairs to the shelter provided by the awning over the entrance, Junaid’s nose wrinkled. There was an odor here, something foul and rotten and maybe even toxic. Hesitating with indecision whether to proceed or just leave without knowing what was causing the stench, he saw the doorknob turn and the portal begin to swing inward. By reflex, Junaid stepped back into the rain and out of arm’s reach.
“You’re right on time. Come on in.” The pimpled-faced young man was frightenly gaunt but moved with solid motions. He wore a filth-streaked Wendy’s restaurant uniform, and his red hair was greasy. Junaid had to hold his breath to avoid the worst of the stench that surrounded him as he stepped inside. He closed the door behind him.
In what had once been a cozy living room, a static-filled screen from the old TV illuminated several bodies laying among an assortment of battered, stained furniture. The dead were all fairly young adult men, who had obviously been killed in a violent fashion. Beer bottles, cigarette packs, and an assortment of other trash littered the bloodstained carpet. By the smell, Junaid estimated that the corpses had lain there for several days. Two roaches were chasing each other on the bare chest of the one lying near the foot of the stairs.
Junaid lifted his gaze from this scene to glance warily around to see what he could of the first floor. A dingy bathroom was visible through one open door; it’s floor heavily stained with dried blood. In the other direction, two people who shouldn’t have been present were standing in the shadows of a dining room behind the remains of the dining table. The first, a muscular white man donned in a suit almost as well tailored as Junaid’s, brandished one of the table legs in his hand as a weapon. His breathing was rapid, and he was probably sweating slightly. Afraid. The other, a pretty young Asian girl in jeans and a black tee shirt with two dark roses in her hair, stood watching him casually, her head cocked to one side. It took three seconds for Junaid to realize that this girl was not breathing.
“We have come to deliver a message to your Prince,” said the filthy man who had let him in. Junaid glanced at him with suspicion. “The Prince already knows what has happened in South Bend, and what you came here to warn him of.” He was becoming increasingly concerned at the oddness of this meeting.
“You don’t get it, man.” The afraid man stepped forward, keeping the table leg pointed at Junaid. “We know about him. We know what you have been doing here. When the other Princes find out they will remove him from power and hunt down all you Detroit Anarchs.” Junaid wondered what the servant of the Cleveland ambassador was doing in this place, making threats in this context. It was certainly not the usual way one domain communicated with another.
“Unless you make a deal with us.” The filthy man walked past Junaid and sat down on the ruined couch. Broken springs creaked as the chair sagged inward. He reached back to brace his hand against the peeling wallpaper and prevent the whole couch from collapsing.
“So you want me to promise that the Prince will pay for your silence. That may indeed be possible, but I would have to discuss it with him first, of course.” Junaid eyed the man with the table leg, who continued to slowly step closer, and made note of his own distance to the front door.
The man spoke from the couch. “You don’t understand. The Tremere want what Detroit has. Maximo wants what Detroit has. And if he doesn’t get it the quiet way, he’ll get it by replacing your whole Primogen council and installing a puppet Prince like he’s doing in South Bend.” His arm slid behind the tottering couch, and re-emerged holding a shotgun. “Either way, you’re going to help us. Take us to where your master is sleeping, or you will just make it harder on both of you.”
Before the barrel of the gun was pointed at him, Junaid leaped forward. His foot connected with the hand of the ambassador’s ghoul who held the table leg, knocking it loose. Snatching it away with his left hand, Junaid turned and twisted his body to put himself between the ambassador’s ghoul and the shotgun. As it discharged with a deafening crack, Junaid threw himself against the floor and swept the ghoul’s feet out from under him. The shotgun blast took the other ghoul in the shoulder as he fell. Junaid glanced up to see the Asian girl aiming a kick at his head. By reaching his right arm out and rolling backward, Junaid caught the ambassador’s ghoul’s neck as he dodged the blow. Then he was up in a crouch behind them both. The shotgun’s recoil had caused the couch to tip over, sending the filthy man off balance, and he now struggled to right himself.
The ambassador’s ghoul punched Junaid in the stomach, and he felt a rib crack from the impact. The Asian girl, her face a mask of calm, stepped towards him. Junaid heaved the injured ghoul into her and threw the table leg after him. The improvised stake pierced her chest. She tried to look down at it for a brief moment, and went limp. Without waiting for her to fall, Junaid grabbed onto the remains of the table and sprang to his feet. The filthy man had managed to sit upright and was again bringing his shotgun up to aim. Junaid threw the tabletop with all his strength, and the wooden slab whistled threw the air to smash into the man’s nose in a splatter of blood and pieces of bone. The gun discharged into the moldy ceiling harmlessly as the man dropped it. He twitched as he groped ineffectively at what was left of his face, and lay still.
Junaid felt a crushing grip on his torso as the ambassador’s ghoul seized him in a bear hug, and his side spasmed in pain where he had been punched. Twisting around to face his opponent, Junaid grasped the sides of the man’s head in his hands and slammed his forehead into the other ghoul’s temple. Then he grasped his opponent around the throat and held him against the floor. The ambassador’s ghoul writhed and struggled desperately, but slowly the fight went out of him. Junaid continued choking him for several minutes after he had ceased moving, until his hands burned with fatigue. Finally, he let the ghoul’s body slump and pulled himself to his feet.
He surveyed the other members of the ambush party. The filthy man’s brains were leaking from his head, and his fresh blood was mingling with the dried blood that already stained the carpeting. The Asian girl lay on her back motionless, her eyes staring up at the table leg that protruded from her chest. Junaid reached over and pressed the stake in further, making sure it wouldn’t come out. After the noise of the shotgun, Junaid couldn’t be sure that no one had heard the struggle and had called the police. He would have to call the other members of the Prince’s brood to misdirect the police and help him clean up this scene of carnage. In the meantime, he had to do something about the Kindred he had staked. Leaving her as she was presented too great a risk in case someone found her and removed the stake. Without seeing any viable option, Junaid grasped the slender body under the shoulders and dragged her onto the threadbare rug near the front door. Opening the portal a crack, Junaid peered out to the street. It was just as deserted as before. Junaid then stepped to the side and threw the door open wide, letting the daylight in to shine on the girl.
It was several moments before Junaid realized that nothing happened. Either the sunlight wasn’t bright enough, or this girl was resistant to it. This wasn’t particularly strange to him; Junaid’s own regnant often rose before the end of twilight and could nearly walk in the first glimmer of dawn. He reached down to drag the body closer to the doorway.
The cold hand closed over his throat like a vise. Greenish eyes gazed up at him as her fanged mouth curled into a smile. “Gotcha,” she whispered. Junaid frantically grasped the stake and twisted it around in her ribs, trying to find her heart. As his vision slowly went dark, Junaid was dimly aware that the Asian girl was carrying him through the fraternity house. His final thoughts echoed in his mind. “Forgive me, Archimedes, my Prince. Forgive my failure, because I cannot forgive myself.”
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