Natasha, eager to keep Spidee's existence discreet, wrote a letter to Archbishop Kroeber in an attempt to deceive him. Kroeber received an unmarked envelope with a letter that read as follows:
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Dear Viktor Kroeber, I regret to inform you that your pawn, Tashaun Jackson is no more. His carcass sleeps in the Inner Harbor. One of my retainers found him, recently reawakened from torpor, and mad from hunger (and whatever else Sabbat members are commonly afflicted with), and restrained him and brought him to me. As he was starving and mad, I sought to temper his beast by feeding him my vitae. It took three feedings to ultimately calm him down. He served as a very useful retainer and provided me with valuable information, and I must admit that it was very clever of you to keep bloodstones planted on your neonates. Since I sincerely thought to have had the upper hand on you, and you have decidedly proven me wrong, I must defer to you my utmost respect. But then, you should know that your pack is as doomed as Mr. Jackson. It would appear that the Garou care for your ilk less than I do, and they have bared the closed house no ill will of late. Being a gentleman of respect, I thought it necessary that you be advised that you may be fighting a two-sided war. Sincerely, Natasha LeFebure |
The very next night, Natasha received a package from Kroeber. Her ghoul said it was hand-delivered, which was odd. No one in the nine hells should know about her haven in Annapolis. The letter read as follows:
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Dearest Natasha, I thank you sincerely for the compliment as well as the information that you have provided me. Tashaun will be missed by no one, and his sire is more useful to me in any event. Perhaps one night the two of you will...meet. Speaking of sires, the pack that the illustrious Garou eliminated were but fledglings; they have already been replaced. I have gathered the information that I need, with your help of course. Besides, nothing ventured, nothing gained. Also, my lady, my informants notify me that your precious Aldred is no more. I would also like to point out that I know where you live, and tracking you is of little difficulty to me. Please keep this in mind, for one night you may actually be of use to me, and I'd be more than happy to have you escorted to my domain. To be frank, Aldred is no longer available to protect you, so pushing my buttons would not be advised. Besides, you were never his type. Respectfully Yours, Archbishop Kroeber |