by James Moore
Before Ilse could attempt to read intentions from the couple, Ldescu strode forward an extra pace to meet them. “Ritter Kotlar! Ritter Geiger! Heil!”
“Heil, Magus Ldescu!” the man boomed, a Wagnerian bass worthy of one of the Giants from Das Rhinegold. “Is this the one?”
“It is indeed.” Ldescu gestured to Use as they came to a stop. “Use Decameron.”
The giant came down on one knee, genuflecting. “The Final Reich offers its services to the servants of the First Reich.” He looked up then, blue eyes blazing. “Are you certain that this man is Charles the Great?"
ilse drew herself up, hoping her Hochdeutsch was haughty enough to pull it off. “How can you even question such a thing?” She waited several beats, then let the affected indignation drain from her face. “Of course. I am forgetting, you have never met him. Once you have met Carl Magnuson
— Charles the Great — you will never question him again.”
Knight Kotlar seemed satisfied with this, and Use realized
she’d taken a page from Charnas and had deceived without telling a single untruth.
“Are the Knights assembled?" Ldescu inquired.
“Yes, Magus Ldescu," Kotlar responded. “Die Ritter are waiting outside the complex.”
“And Herr Anvil?"
Geiger responded, “He is there as well, along with Sosa and the Talon from the East."
“Excellent,” said Ldescu. “Well, then, let us proceed.”
They followed the two anachronistic Brujah and soon arrived at a square outside the Europa Center Complex, where a pavilion had been set up, blue and white, with the Berlin Bear blazoned across everything. People in tabards and armor
— mostly human from their auras — wandered about, polishing medieval plate and chainmail and patching bits of it up with duct tape. A few of them sharpened swords while two men sparred with mockups made from rattan and foam, bystanders taking pictures.
Ilse joined them, using Kotlar as a walking wall to keep herself out of sight, then went into one of the pavilions and put on the medieval leather armor and tabard she was given. Ldescu and Lydia did as well. Sabine looked like a Gothic Valkyrie by the time they were done, holding a war spear in one hand, a shield on the other, and with a homed helmet borrowed from the opera on her head.
They were then joined by the three Brujah from Etrius' Kaffeeklatsch. Anvil was wearing full chainmail, along with a pot helm, and carrying a wicked-looking cast-iron flanged mace. Yuri, who ilse supposed was the one referred to as the Talon from the East, had a Cossack's spiked helm and a scimitar at his belt, while Hector Sosa was dressed mostly in leather reinforced with duct tape, a bastard sword in one hand and a skateboard in the other.
The Knights, Ilse realized, were somewhere between the Society for Creative Anachronism and the Society for Creative Anarchism, at least when the Brujah got involved. Once Kotlar had reviewed his warband and given a brief rallying speech, concerning Jews, infidels and other demon-spawn (including vampires) opposed by Martin Luther and the Society of Leopold (making Ilse realize there was at least one muddled vampire hunter among the group surrounding them, not to mention Neo-Nazis) she and Ldescu suddenly had an honor guard of creatively and esoterically armed humans and Kindred.
Bold as brass and twice as noisy, they marched straight for the doors of the shopping complex, the guards holding the doors open for them, either not wanting to trouble the Knights or else, with that peculiar German sensibility, deciding that any large group of persons in uniform must have gotten official approval from someone, so they shouldn’t be bothered. Or, more likely, they were walking right into a trap, but the Tremere and their allies would not be the first to drop the Masquerade, especially if they had vampire hunters in their midst.
They marched right along the central walkway of the indoor shopping mall, past tourists, natives, fountains and vendors’ carts, the vault as huge and impressive above them as a cathedral, until at last someone chose to drop the Masquerade.
The person was a bag lady who appeared out of nowhere — fangs bared, flowered hat askew, and chainsaw buzzing —, and she swung it into a man in full chainmail, sparks and blood flying and horrible screams of flesh and metal filling
the air. Kotlar’s enormous greatsword came out at once, and before Ilse could even register, the bag lady’s head was separated at the neck and launched high in the air. The chainsaw landed on the walkway, still buzzing, the chain launching it forward till it caught on the short mall carpet, buzzing and chattering as it spun in circles. The head then landed on the rim of one of the planters, bursting like a ripe melon, followed a moment later by the flowered hat.
Whether this was merely strange irony, or some Toreador had actually decided it would all begin at the drop of a hat, it didn’t matter. Large numbers of heavily armed Kindred appeared, fangs bared and concealed weapons no longer concealed, many of them Nosferatu or obviously insane, and it was definite that at least one vampire had used his or her power of Obfuscate to cloak the gathering of vampires, for it was impossible that all of them had been Masquerading as shoppers, even the ones pulling large caliber weaponry out of their shopping bags. All told, a small army had turned up to make a show of their obedience to the wishes of both of Berlin's Ventrue princes.
The battle was then joined, and chaos ensued, Ilse flanked by Ldescu on one side and Anvil on the other, the Knights' careful phalanx falling apart into two separate lines of charging crusaders.
There was a scream, and a Nosferatu launched himself from one of the upper balconies, completely nude and monstrously deformed, but with patagia flaps under his arms like a flying squirrel. Geiger drew her bow and plugged him with three arrows in a careful grouping before he landed in one of the fountains.
Hector Sosa then raced forward on his skateboard, sword upraised, swinging at a man and beheading him in the same manner as would a knight on horseback. Bullets flew everywhere, and the sound of automatic gunfire mixed with the clash of steel, making it seem like several time periods
had collapsed into one, vampires with machine pistols versus knights in armor.
The Knights, humans though most of them were, were still doing quite well against their supernatural opponents, a severed head Final Death for almost any creature. Indeed, lopping heads off seemed to be their particular specialty, and, with a whoop and holler and a bit of acrobatics, Sosa bobbed and weaved, spun once on his skateboard, then leaped high in the air, taking the head of his opponent of the moment, a Malkavian woman on rollerblades, and sending her spurting headless corpse, still standing, down one of the wheelchair access ramps. He and a human Knight then both raised the heads of their vanquished opponents and howled in triumph, knocking them together like wine goblets.
Inspired by this, Ilse supposed, Sabine screamed like one of the Valkyrie from Wagner’s Ring cycle, and her spear began to glow. With the might worthy of Odin's daughters, she threw it to fly straight through the hearts of three men, one after the other, and pinning them to an information kiosk, the lights shorting out behind them.
They now had a distraction to end all distractions, and Ilse ran, Ldescu at her side, Anvil charging before them, using his mace to beat in the head of anyone so unfortunate as to get in their way, until they raced through the doors of the Europa Hotel. The doorman stood and stared, as did the clerks at the front desk.
Anvil began to make for the stairway, until Ldescu grabbed his sleeve. “No, they’re waiting for us there.” At the Magus’ behest, they went straight to the elevator, pressing the button just as Kotlar, Geiger and a portion of the Knights made it into the hotel lobby.
Ldescu looked to the blond giant and pointed to the staircase, just as the elevator arrived. Kotlar nodded, and Ldescu waited politely while an elderly matron got out of the elevator, a frightened-looking pug dog in her arms. Then he,
ilse and Anvil stepped in, the Brujah holding his bloody mace and snarling as the doors closed.
“The penthouse, if you please,"
the Magus said, and Ilse fit her picks into the lock at the top of the control panel, jimmying it quickly and pressing the button beside it, marked in aristocratic gold.
He placed a hand over the seam of the doors, fingers outlined in a blue glow as the elevator climbed. At last they got to the top, and he took his hand away, the doors still shut. “Open Sesame," said the Magus, and at that key phrase, the charm of locking broke and the doors slid open.
Anvil was the first to step out into the apartment and the white plush carpeting. “All right, Westphal!” the Brujah screamed. “It’s payback time!”
Kurt Westphal looked at the collection of Kindred who had just entered his haven and shook his head, stunned almost speechless by their sudden appearance. “Anvil? What in God’s name are you doing here?”
“You owe me, Westphal, and I’m gonna take the payment from your hide.” Anvil stepped further into the room, waving his blood-spattered mace about for emphasis. Behind him, Ldescu walked into the room with his usual confidence, and Ilse Decameron trailed just behind the Tremere elder, looking greatly relieved when she spotted Carl Magnuson on the couch.
Kurt ignored Anvil for the moment — hardly the easiest task he’d ever managed — and looked directly at the Tremere primogen of Berlin. “Ldescu. You at least I had expected to be smarter than this.” Kurt grinned and shook his head. “You had best pray with all of your soul that whatever the Tremere are attempting succeeds. If not, you will surely find yourselves the subject of a massive Blood Hunt.”
“I can’t imagine why. I’ve done absolutely nothing, save be seen in the presence of a large group of men in armor." Ldescu flashed a counter-smile, cold and calculating. “How was I to know they were anarchs set on sacking the city?"
“Please, don’t insult my intelligence. If only for old times’ sake, let’s not be offensive.” Kurt moved before the Tremere, smiling even broader than before. “Who the hell do you think you’re fooling? It was not all that long ago that the Tremere were not permitted in this city, Max. I suspect you may have brought that malediction back upon your clan." Kurt dropped the smile. “And none too soon as far as I am concerned! You disgust me, Ldescu. To think I have ever considered you an ally... I am appalled by your actions!”
Ldescu stared deeply at Kurt, searching for something that he apparently wasn’t finding. “Dear God, you’re serious.” He actually sounded surprised. “You actually feel betrayed by me.” “Of course I do! You’ve set back relations between our clans by a hundred years with this preposterous action. In all the times of battle between the princes of Berlin, who listened to you when you begged for leniency on the part of the Camarilla? Certainly you know how many favors I called in to keep this town safe? You cannot be stupid enough to think my task was easy. And now you orchestrate a gross violation of the Masquerade. Regardless that they are mostly humans and a few anarchs, the Inquisition would surely come in force if the Ventrue did not stand ready to drive the memories from every citizen in the city, and you expect me to think this was simply an accident?” Kurt grabbed the Tremere by his lapels, staring in the man’s face. “Get out of my sight, you pathetic fool! Leave this town immediately! The Blood Hunt will be called!”
Ldescu staggered back, as Kurt released his grip and pushed. The pleasant smile he normally sported when around Kurt was gone, and a murderous rage suffused his face. “You arrogant little dog! I’ll see your ashes scattered to the four winds.”
Anvil decided to remind Kurt of his presence with a swing of his mace. Despite doing his best to keep an eye on the Brujah, the mace connected. The man moved in a blur. Jing Wei cried out, “Kurt! Behind you!" at the same time the mace impacted with Kurt’s left shoulder. He spun a half-circle, staggering back against the bar. Anvil stepped forward, grinning as if certain that he could not fail.
The Brujah moved in for the kill. “You’ve had this coming a long time, you bastard.” Anvil snarled with vicious delight.
Kurt locked eyes with him, reached out with his mind and demanded the ex-primogen of Miami’s obedience. Stop where you are! Anvil froze in place, eyes going wide with dawning terror. Drop your weapon. Anvil’s hands opened, and the mace fell to the ground with a thud. Kurt grabbed the bottle of Louis XIII off the top of the bar and smashed the leaded crystal bottle against Anvil’s face. The amber liquor mingled with blood from Anvil’s wounds and ran down the Brujah’s body as well as flowing into his eyes. The man clutched at his face and screamed as the alcohol spilled into his lacerations.
Kurt cocked his fist back and struck with all of his undead strength, sending the man reeling backwards to crash into the coffee table a few paces away. Magnuson leaped back, crying out as the man thrashed on the ground. Zho stared down at the fallen Kindred, his expression unreadable.
The Brujah roared as he finally got to his feet, his face broken and bloodied. “I'll kill you, Westphal! I'll tear your heart out!”
Kurt reached into his jacket and pulled out his lighter, striking the flint even as he displayed his prize. “Will you, Anvil? By all means, come for me. I am ready." The silence that followed was complete, save for the sound of Zho’s subdued laughter.
Dieter Kotlar and Erika Geiger chose that moment to make their appearance along with two others dressed as preposterously as they were. All four had bloodless wounds and abrasions on their bare skin. Kurt recognized the others are Brujah, but could not immediately place their names.
Ilse apparently decided that enough was enough, because she stepped over to Ldescu just then, shaking her head. “Max, this has gone far enough. We’ve got what we came for — let’s leave.”
“No. Kurt has offended me, and he must pay the price.” The Magus' voice was cold, a razor running across a tombstone. “I’ve still got ashes to scatter.” His eyes never left Kurt, and the stare was a presence he could not ignore.
Anvil turned his head sharply at the mention of ashes.
Magnuson was the one who stopped Ldescu from carrying out his threat. Kurt was bracing himself for whatever the man would do, when Magnuson stepped forward and grabbed the Tremere by his arm. Ldescu looked away from Kurt, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief. “Listen, Mr. Ldescu, isn’t it? Don’t you think it would be better if we just left? I’d rather not be around if things get messy. I’ll go with you, and everything will be just fine. Right, Kurt?"
Kurt looked at the mage, at the polite desperation on his face — a look he was certain that only the British could manage properly — and nodded. “Yes. I imagine that will be sufficient for the present time."
“Right then, wot say we be off then?”
Ldescu stared at Magnuson, then turned his face towards Kurt again. For just a second, Kurt thought the man's face softened. “Yes. Let’s leave.” He looked past Kurt, to where Kurt knew Jing Wei was standing. “You. Come with us. You have much to explain."
Zho spoke up, moving from his position against the arm of the couch and shaking his head. “No. Jing Wei stays here. She has my protection.”
“And who are you to presume so much?” Ldescu's voice dropped dangerously, and Kurt resisted the urge to seek shelter behind the bar.
“I am Thadius Zho. You know my name, and you know what I am capable of. Don’t cross me."
Ldescu sneered, but his voice was far less threatening when he spoke again. “You may keep her. For now."
Kurt looked to where Ilse stood her hand reaching for and finding Magnuson’s. “Ilse."
“Yes, Kurt?"
“I could have killed him, just as surely as you could have let me kill the one I love. We are even. My life boon to you is paid.”
Ilse looked at him, her green eyes pale and unreadable. “Sparing a life is not the same as saving one." She paused. “Yet I will consider the debt paid. Carl’s life for Jackie’s.”
She left the rest of the thought unsaid, but didn't need to. If Kurt were ever responsible for Carl’s death, Ilse could kill Jackie, and in the cruel world of Kindred society games, this would be considered nothing
more than right and proper.
Their eyes stayed locked for several more heartbeats as the Brujah and Tremere gathered together and left Kurt’s haven. Use nodded once before she and her mortal mage left, softly closing the door behind them.
Kurt stepped over to the couch and sat down, his body finally giving in to the need to tremble. “I hate interruptions. I truly do."
-»«-
Following the Tremere was easy. Having finally met Carl Magnuson in person, Zho could now locate him virtually anywhere. At least that was what the mage told Kurt, and he had no choice but to trust the man. There was simply no way around the fact that the Tremere had caught him off-guard. One minute talking with Jing Wei about the possibility of Use Decameron showing up at his apartment, the next having not only Decameron, but Maxwell Ldescu and that buffoon Anvil showing up. Looking around one last time as they prepared to leave, Kurt wondered just what in God’s name he was supposed to do now that his haven had been uncovered.
“Are you certain you can find the Tremere, Thadius?” The mage smiled, and beside him Jing Wei smiled as well. “Oh, yes. Between Jing Wei, Carl and myself, we’ve narrowed it down to one of two locations, anyway. And there’s only one of the two spots that would work for what they want to do. They needed a place where life is celebrated; the other is better suited for death.”
“Which did they choose?"
“A spot in the Harz Mountains, the Brocken, a place of great power from long ago.”
“Well, where else were they considering, especially that would be in the opposite direction?” The Brocken, where devils and demons were said to dwell....
