IC: Dawn broke, and Vampires slept. The Fire chief paced around quizzically. "You said there was no one in the building you could find?" He asked the younger fireman standing by his side.
"No, sir. A complete arson investigation will turn up any bodies if there are any in the rubble, but I couldn't find anything more than a small kitten and the bodies of two dead cats."
"Then where is this Lanouette guy? If he owns this place, and lives here, you think he might come asking what happened when he saw this on the news."
The younger fireman shrugged. "I'm not sure, sir." He paused, looking sheepish. "Sir, what should I do with the...survivor?"
The fire chief looked down at the small cat trying to wriggle free of the blankets that encompassed it. "Take it to the humane society so they can check it out for smoke inhalation. They can keep it 'till the owner comes back. Send the other...bodies to autopsy. It might help up dtermine what caused this fire."
The younger fireman nodded and cradled the kitten to his chest. "Don't worry, sweetie, I'll take you somewhere safe and quiet..."
"mew."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Police were swarming around the remains of the carot and the stick as well. It didn't take any superhuman perception to notice the silver lighter so carefully dropped. It skillfully went into an evidence bag, and was sent off for further investigation. Of course it had no fingerprints, but the initials, they were a find. The investigating officer noted this, and shelved it into his memory for further reference, before passing it off to be catalogued. The cataloguer, however, noticed the age of the item. It prompted him to think of his beneficiary, and so during his lunch break he ferreted off to the bathroom to make a cell phone call to her. She wasn't awake, she never was during the day, which made him wonder what kind of job she held, but she was beautiful and powerful, and he was highly attracted to her, and that was all that mattered.

"Monny, this is Paul - you told me to call if I noticed something strange, well this is better than the cell phone last month - it's a lighter. A real old one - pure silver, with the initials JPR etched into it..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The coroner scratched his head. He was used to people coming into his offices, not animals. But since they were the only bodies found at an incredibly damaging suspected arson, the police had insisted it was necessary to have them autopsied. The first thing he had done was examine the lungs, and he found something interesting. This cat had not inhaled any smoke whatsoever. He scratched his head, and decided to do a fur and blood analysis. The fur analysis was interesting, coming up with a high concentration of natural gas. The blood was even more interesting because there was none.

Dry. Dry as a bone, and not even dead more than a day. The coroner scratched his head and pondered this for a minute, before continuing. He finally concluded that neither cat had died from the fire. Being upstars, in a somewhat sheltered part of the apartment, and being low to the ground, neither cat had been badly burned or suffered from smoke inhalation. In fact, it looked as if they had died before the fire was set - from blood loss.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"So what you're saying is that this was the work of some arsonist satanic cult who murders cats and drains thier blood?" The investigator in charge of the case insinuated at the coroner.
"Well, I would say that's likely, but there were no external injuries on either cat. Arsonist satanic cultists who have advanced degrees in nursing to extract blood from a syringe - maybe."
The investigator let out a loud laugh before turning sober. "SO, what you're really saying is that you don't know."
"Yeah." The coroner replied, wiping back a tear of mirth.
"Thanks for making my life easy. Turn that stuff over to records, why don'cha?" The coriner nodded, and worked his way out of the office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Monny, hey, I hate to bother you again, especially if you're sleeping, but I want you to know there was this coroner report about these two cats that had been drained of all blood with no external injuries..."

+**++**++**++**++**++**++**++**++**++**++**++**++**+

Night Falls

What Sydney really wanted to do was sit there and hold his hands in his head. But he knew what he should do was get his butt down to the police station, and give them some story that he had been out of town, and had just seen what happened and wanted more information. Yet, in the fading rays of the evening sun, all he could do was wrap his arms around his head and rock himself back and forth, losing his pain in the motions. All he could think was
~Fire. Fire. Too much fire. Too cramped in here. Too many bodies. Too many bodies, still bodies. Still bodies always smell like blood. They smell like blood. No one is moving. No one is moving but me. Fire. FIRE!~

Sydney opened his eyes to Sarah shaking him gently. "Hey, you OK?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm fine." he managed to say after a long pause. His voice was raspy.
"What were you thinking?" she prodded.
"I was thinking about my cats...and Will. I shouldn't have shut him in the Volkswagon - and I should never have left him behind." Sydney sounded tired.
"Well, we had thought it was safer for him there." Sarah pointed out. Sydney gave her a half-hearted smile and then stood.
"Hey, where are you going?" Maestro asked, shooting a glare at Sydney.
"To the police station." he replied, with a beaten tone.
"You shouldn't go there - don't mess with the kine at a time like this."
"I have to go there - I need to give them an excuse for not contacting them sooner - it *is* my bookstore and home, you know."
Maestro considered this for a few moments before nodding. "That's fine, son. But we're following you."
"Why?" The indignation seethed through Sydney's voice, as if he already knew the answer.
"I don't think you're stable enough to go anywhere without some friends behind you, son."
"No mattter what you beileve, the fact remains that I am not crazy, nor unstable. I can take care of this perfectly well by myself." Sydney spat back, and headed out the door.
"Snippy tonight, isn't he?" Maestro remarked. Anique and Talbot stretched and nodded in agreement, before Maestro herded them out into the bitter night air to follow the bedraggled bookseller.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fenix stirred uncomfortably, emerging from his makeshift haven under a construction shelter abandoned for winter. It felt as if the left side of his body was flattened due to the odd position he had rested in, and his ribs, while they no longer hurt, felt oddly numb. But it was a small price to pay when one considered that the improvised shelter had served well. He wished he would have had more time to follow the strange man he had conversed with the night before, but he decided that the first priority was to find the vampires he had been with the night before. He stood and dusted himself off, wondering just how he was going to find out where they had gone to.

A casual pass at the bookstore revealed tons of Police tape, and more than a comfortable number of investigators and guards. It wasn't very hard to see that even if they were to come here, they wouldn't hang around to lone. Fenix decided to leave before he was noticed. He also had the itching desire to seek out the man he had spoken with, but, of course, first things first. He decided that instead of activily searching, he would listen for awhile. He ambled up the block, and into a coffehouse. He remembered the Malk in the funny hat telling him at one time that it was a good place to catch up on the gossip of both the Kindred and the Kine - but only if you knew how to listen for it. He wasn't quite sure how that was, but it sure couldn't hurt.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You were out of town - on what business?" The man had a porcine face, and Sydney really wanted to smack it with a frying pan.
"I deal in rare and out of print books. I had a potential original print Dumas, but I don't trust advertisements alone. I need to appraise the book in person. I came back tonight, and I...I found my house and shop in ruins!" To his credit, Sydney choked his last few words with convincing emotion.
The inspector eyed him. "I'm sorry about you shop, sir. We're doing everything possible to find out the cause." He paused a bit and added, "Do you keep cats, Sir?"
"Yes!" Sydney searched the man's face for good news.
"Well, we found one survivor, it's waiting for you at the Toronto humane association. We found several more that looked like thay suffered from severe blood loss. Do you know what might have caused this?"
Try as he might, Sydney could not keep his eyes from widening. the word "Vampires!" escaped from his lips.
"Excuse me, Sir?" the inspector furrowed his brow with irritation.
"Well, I have many occult books, and it reminds me of a story I just read about vampires...I'm sure it was just a coincidence, though." He rationalized. The inspector eyed him, but nodded slowly. He walked slowly around his desk and drew out a plastic bag with a small silver object in it.
"We also found this at the scene of the crime. Do you have any idea what it is?"
Sydney gingerly took the bag as if it might bite him. "It looks like a lighter." He said with horror edging his voice.
"Do you recognize it?" Sydney turned it over in his hands, watching the light as it glinted off an etching. JPR. How odd.
"No. Those aren't my initials...and it's far to old to be mine. I do old books, not old lighters. When can I pick up my cat?" he sounded plainitive.
"Right away sir. I have no further questions." the inspector ended, giving Sydney a gruff glare that seemed to say add 'yet' to his sentence. Sydeny brightened at the thought of being re-united with at least one feline companion, and bustled off.

"What do you think?" the inspector turned and faced his colleague who was sitting in the recesses of the room.
"I don't think he's all there, but I also don't think he had anything to do with this. He seemed pretty shaken up." the older man said with an air of boredom.
"I don't know - I think there's something he's not telling us." The younger insisted.
"And I think you're paranoid." came the dry reply.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"What did you find out?" Sarah asked, like a child asking a parent what they brought them.
"Not much - I have to go get my cat." Sydney balked. He seemed very offended that everyone had followed him.
"Did they show you or tell you anything?" Anique prodded.
"Only some old lighter. It looked like it was from the 20's or something. They said it was found at the scene of the crime. They wanted to know if it was mine - which if you ask me was a pretty dumb question since it had initials engraved on it, and they weren't mine." Sydney said, already taking long steps towards the Toronto Humane Association.
"It had initials engraved upon it?!" Talbot chimed in. Even though Sydney seemed unimpressed by this detail, he had captured everyone else's attention.
"Yeah. JPR or something like that. I want my cat back."

There was a pause. Talbot beat everyone to the punch. "JPR - like Jack P. Remington...?!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fenix sat, idily watching the customers, and trying to listen with all his might. He had already given up on faking drinking coffee, and now he decided he would go for the brooding poet look. That brought more female attention that he would have thought possible, and he catalogued this into his memory as a good way to feed later on. But for the time being, his mind was preoccupied with listening.
He shifted, ready to leave, finding this entire effort quite fruitless, when he caught a word that caused every fibre of his mind to become focused on one particular corner of the room. The word he had caught was 'Masquerade.'

The conversation came to him slowly, as if filtered through cotton. He caught a glimpse of the speakers. An extremely well dressed man in a retro fitting black pantsuit, and a woman in a wraparound blue glittery dress that looked like it was straight out of Frederick's of Hollywood. Somehow it fit her perfectly. It was something about someone breaking the masquerade in the explosion last night. That caught any shreds of attention that had failed to be piqued by the last comment.
"They investigated, and well, duh, wouldn't you. It was so obviously arson." the woman was saying. "And they found two cats...*drained* of blood. Newspapers even got that."
"My, my. We will have a cleanup job on our hands, won't we?" the man replied, steepling his fingers in front of him.
"Yes, but Monica doesn't know who's responsible - and she's irate. She says that if no one will rat on who did it, she'll pick some low lifes and simply run them over the coals (and here she winked) to strike fear in the heart of whoever did this."
"A good excuse to rid herself of her troubling kooks."
"Oh, does she really need an excuse?"

Fenix didn't wait to hear the answer to that. he simply ran out the door, and into the night.

IC: Judas walked through the night streets quickly and quietly. He was dressed in his typical smart looking suit with his hair styled neatly. He walked with purpose but he didn't knwo where to go next. Plans had been made for the next attack but it was days until that and he had heard that there were karen members that were concerned about him and his recent associations with the wrym.

~They don't understand me. They think i'm succuming to the wrym but I'm not, they will succum to me and destroy themselves.~
He stopped and laughed aloud and then listened to it echo in the valley of skyscraper structures. He liked hearing his own voice, it was so strong and rich and it echoed well in the city. He then continued down the street to a small cafe and ordered a latte. The waitress was a petite thing with soft features and dishwater blonde hair. She seemed so vunrable to the world as he looked upon her when she brought his latte to him.

"So, Meredith when do you get off tonight?" he asked in a soft rich tone with a slight smile. She smiled back sweetly as if this is not the first time a man spoke to her in this fashion.
"You are my last customer tonight," she replied. She then returned to the back. He sat there lusting in his mind about her drinking his latte slowly. When she returns with the check he grins. He grabs a twenty and a business card form his pocket, writes a note on it and the time of about 1:30am and leaves.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

1:45 a.m. Maple Leaf Inn
He looked at her naked body and thought about all the carnal things he could do to it. She was so easliey manipulated, few men would leave a $20 for a $5 latte. She was there even earlier than he wrote down on the card and was more than willing to perform for him. He had her dance and strip of course- simple things first. Now was to be the fun part the- terror. As he moved upon her she seemed more than willing to participate. He was a very strong man with well chisled features- hard for most women to resist let alone weak willed ones.
As the act progressed he could smell her lust for him as well and when the right moment appeared he changed himself.
~Through her half open eyes she saw the man before her turn into a huge beast. Not only did he look frightening but it became painful. She cried out in pain and horror but this seemed to make him go faster and harder.~ He grined with huge shrape teeth and breath that reaked of death. She was screaming in terror now.
~OH YES! scream my little one, scream to the gods above, scream your last breaths~ He would pound harder with each scream form her lips his large form ripping her causign it her to bleed. Her face was a twisted version of its former self writhing in pain after such intense pleasure. After about ten minutes she passes out form pain and blood loss. Judas returns to his homid form and showers, cleaning the blood from his body.

Upon returning to the room she is dead from the blood loss he shakes his head in discust and wraps her body up in the bed linens and throws it in a black garbage bag. He walked out of the room and down the street to his car and placed the body in the trunk and then returned to the room. He cleans the room like a lunatic and makes sure not one hair is left and then leaves. He drives to the hospital, dons a lab coat and name tag and walks down to the lower levels where the incinerator is located. He throws the bag in and leaves with a smile across his face.

Towards morning he drives past the remains of Malkavain bookstore curious as to what has happened there and then heads to Monica's.

The Frantic Search.....

IC: Fenix stopped a little ways down from the cafe to think of where the rest of the group my be at. Thoughts of hoping that somehow they weren't there when the place went up starting going through his head, which revived his motivation to search for them. "Maybe they went back to the bookstore for some reason..." he said to himself.
He started running, bumping into someone. Fenix shrugged it off in his mind and kept running, he had more pressing matter at hand right now.
"HEY!" came a yell from behind him. "What the hell do ya think yer doin punk?" Fenix stopped and looked behind him, seeing 4 or 5 people, each looking like they found their wardrobe in a nearby dumpster.
"I don't got time for this.." Fenix said, as he bolted down the street, turning the corner leading towards the book store.
"What the hell's his problem, not even sayin sorry for bumping into you....come on guys let's go beat an apology outta him" The group started following the direction where Fenix went, each ready to do some damage to him, or so they think.

"Still roped off....they're not here" said Fenix, as he halted from his run. There were some cop cars around, but the owners of them were to busy stopping by the other establishments around the place to question the people there. "Dammit...." He turned around and started running back towards the way he came, only to come face to face with the same 5 people from earlier. "What the hell do ya guys want?" Fenix said, as he halted and stared down the slightly bigger guy in front.
"We're here to get an apology out of ya, for bumping into one of my people" as he said that he looked back to the frail looking girl in the back, who had an ice cold stare fixed on Fenix.
"Look, like I said before, I ain't got time for this." Fenix stood his ground, staring the big guy right into his eyes. No more than 3 seconds passed before the big guy backhanded Fenix across the face.
"How much do you value your life punk? You get yer ass up and apologize right now!" He picked up Fenix and stood him up, grabbing him by his collar on the back of his jacket. Fenix, already tired of fighting, elbowed the guy right in the stomach. The guy let go of him, a stunned look on his face, he fell straight to the ground and clutched his stomach. "Oubviously not....." he said to himself. He ran off down into an alley and fast as he could.
"What the hell happened boss?" He layed on the ground, still moaning.
"We'll find that bastard and get him for ya!" They ran off in the same direction as Fenix. They tried following him through the alley, but they could not find where he went off too. As for Fenix, as soon as he got out of the alley, he had finally found what he has been searching for......

Remington learns the truth

IC: Jack Remington woke in the musty air of the theatre's basement. He opened his eyes and looked about his beloved little haven under the props room. The walls were covered with posters advertising plays and concerts he had sponsored, and they always brought a slight smile to his face, thinking about the enjoyment he had brought the people of the city. If he couldn't be an actor or a musician, at least he could put his money behind them and enjoy watching people create. He stretched and walked over to a small wardrobe against the far wall. He opened it and pulled out a nice black pinstripe suit, neatly pressed and ready for wear. As he dressed in the same fashion he had for the last 70 years, his hands methodically smoothing the fine fabric and tying his tie, he thought about the events of the previous evening. The bookshop had burnt down. It was obviously arson, and kindred related at that. Ellison or Freewater had to be behind it, he thought. Given the amount of trouble they had already been giving the city's group of Malkavians, it made total sense. He hoped the motley group of Malks hadn't been inside the shop. Somehow he doubted it, though. They were too...smart. He smiled a little at that thought. Monica thought they were a nuisance. But she underestimated them. Just as she underestimated HIM. His smile grew a bit wider. Suddenly, there was a knock at his door. Jack jumped, startled because NObody knew exactly HOW to get to his haven...well, they SHOULDN"T anyway....

Remington grabbed a gun from his bedside stand and inched up against the door, with his back to the wood. His left had crept towards the brass knob, and he turned it fast, swinging the door open and leaping into the doorway, gun pointed at the visitor, his eyes bright and alert. Curly Will stood trembling outside Remingtons door, and let out a whimper of fear when he saw the barrell of a gun pointed at his face.
He fell to his knees shaking, and Jack looked down at him, pure shock on his face. Remington's expression changed from shock to compassion when he noticed Will's charred hair.
"Will! What are you doing here?" Remington excalimed, putting the handgun in his pocket and extending a hand to help the quivering malk to his feet.
Will looked up at Remington's hand and stuttered "yyy..you aren't...g..g..gonna shoot me?" Remington smiled and laughed slightly.
"No, Will...I just wasn't expecting visitors...come on in." Will took his hand and righted himself, and ran a hand through his singed hair.
"Don't mind if I do..." he entered Remington's haven and took a seat on the office chair in front of Jack's desk. Remington shut and locked the door behind him and took a seat as well.
"Now Will" he began in a calm tone "What brings you to my haven? And, for Goodness sakes, how did you know how to FIND it?" Remington eyed Will curiously for his reply.
"Well, mm...my sire, Murray, he told me where ya lived. But that's not important...there...there's been a fire" Will blurted out nervously.
" I know" replied REmington. "I presume you escaped the fire, from the looks of your singed locks there" Remington tipped his head in a slight gesture indicating Will's charred jacket and hair.
"I..I was in the fire, yes..." replied Will. "But I escaped. Ssee...Sydney, he had locked me in the VW bug. He tends to do that when I..uh...gggg get excited. Well, a few years ago, I had a nnnice little escape hatch put in the fllloor of the bug, leading to the basement. Ssssometimes, Sydney, he forgets to l-let me out" Will smiled sadly. Remington eyed Will curiously.
"So, Will...did anyone else escape?"
"OH! I was the only one there...the rest were on some important quest! well, besides the cats. Sydney's going to be so sad about the cats. I would have saved them if I could, but the fire...it made me run" Will looked shamefully at his hands which were folded in his lap.
Jack smiled "nothing to be ashamed of Will. I would have run too...continue your story, though, please. Why did you come to me?"
"Well" Will began anxiously "Murray told me that if there was ever trouble, that you were a friend to us malks, and that I should come find you. I'm a messenger, after all...and there is trouble" Will grinned and puffed his chest out proudly. "I saw who set the fire".
REmington blinked at the news. He took a deep unnecessary breath and closed his hand around the small metal locket he kept on a chain inside his pocket. An old habit. He concentrated on the face in that old black and white photo, and found his strength, then continued.
"What sort of trouble, Will?" He asked.
"W..Well...Jason Ellison started the fire. And he broke the masquerade, too" Will looked up at Jack, unsure how he would take the news.
"Tell me exactly how it happened" Jack said, his eyes narrowing to slits at the mention of Ellison....Will rambled on...

*********************************************************

Jack sat down heavily on his bed and sighed. Will had just left, gone to clean himself up and feed, probably. Jack went over what Will had told him in his head. Will had been locked in the bug, when he saw Ellison pouring gasoline all over the premises...then pause to EAT a couple cats, before lighting the place on fire. Remington shook his head in bewilderment and disgust. Ellison was a waste of Vitae. His sire should have been punnished for creating such a childer. How completely worthless, to impart the gift of blood upon one so unworthy. At least Ellison wasn't a Ventrue, thought Jack. Ellison was so far from noble. But this move wasn't LIKE Ellison. Ellison usually took people down more subltely. Not abruptly and outright SLOPPILY like this. There must be some ulterior motive to Ellison's crime.

Jack was bewildered. He reached into his pocket and took out the small metal locket. He flipped it open on its worn hinges and peered down at the picture of her face. Her eyes danced with the vitality she had in life, and he smiled at the thought of her, and the remembrance of the way her skin smelt and how her lips tasted. He let every detail filter through his mind. Poor Hannah. She had never known what became of him. She had married, eventually, had children which should have been his, and died in her sleep 30 years ago. He should visit her grave again sometime, he thought. After this mess was over, he'd bring her yellow roses, like he had brought her the first day they met. He had never revealed himself to her...she had thought him dead. He couldn't have told her, because it would have hurt her more to know what he had become than to think him a corpse somewhere in the cold ground. He closed his eyes and let a welcome tear of blood drip down his face. "Hannah..." he thought "Even in death you make me feel human"....Jack snapped the locket closed and placed it in his pocket. No more reminicing. It was time for action. He had to go find Ellison. ....He stood, and placed his pistol in his pocket, patting it down so it's presence wasn't obvious. He stood and staighted his back, smoothed his suit, and left his haven, proudly ready for confrontation....