Led Zepplin

Not for the first time, Dillon Connery is prowling through the seemingly endless shelves of books in a small store on Fair Oaks Boulevard, looking for anything that might catch his interest. That 'anything' doesn't necessarily have to be a book, but luckily the religion section of this store is well-stocked. Per modern standards, it is also carefully unbiased in its selection and presentation.

The Gangrel is actually searching for some insight into a few topics covered in the manuscript Sidor had translated for him. Topics that, for the most part, went sailing right over his Savage head. Before his Embrace, and even then, before the Catechisms of Longinus, he'd mostly been a New Testament man through and through. In those days, the King James Bible had been his single source of theological education. Since coming into his new path, his new Purpose, he realized that the world of spirituality was not as cut and dry for those who weren't bathed in the blood of Jesus Christ. However, he'd always believed that knowledge and faith were not mutually exclusive, but more so now that the wisdom of a century was behind him. Thirty more years and it would be two.

One section of the texts seemed to make more than a passing reference to a certain diagram, a sort of chart describing the ten emanations by which God reveals himself, called the Sefirot. Wikipedia had given him a very basic rundown on the concept, but that, as usual, wasn't good enough. He needed something physical; in print and comprehensive. Something he could pour over properly in order to draw comparisons and take notes. But unfortunately, the Sefirot was a concept normally attributed to Kabbalistic Judaism, which Dillon has very little experience with.

Whether or not he would be able to find anything pertinent, there is a wealth of information to be had here. A book on heretics made him smile humorlessly, as he thought the gargoyle on the cover looked nothing like Anton Flores. There was a book comparing Theology and Quantum Physics, a reproduction of a book published nearly a hundred years ago detailing the 'History of the Conflict Between Religion and Science', even a derogatory book bashing religion in general. Dillon passes over the Complete Idiot's Guide to the Kabbalah with a small frown, settling on Kabbalah for the Student. That seemed rather apt.

Kneeling down on one knee, Dillon is far too eager to examine what the pages have in store for him to buy the book immediately and take it to the seating area nearby. He flips through to the first illustration of the Sefirah that he finds, and begins skimming.

The Gangrel is brought out of his study when someone joins him in the aisle. It was a petite young woman with bright, intelligent eyes and several notebooks in her arms. Dressed simply in jeans and a hoodie, she had the look of one of the many college students of Sacramento, if quite a pretty one.

Dillon knew at once that he was meant to tempt her, and it disgusted him. Or rather, he disgusted himself. The thought passed, however. This is why he survived the Embrace, to tempt mortals, and show them the monstrosity of sin.

But when he looked at her long enough to catch her eyesight and smile his greeting, he suddenly didn't want to. His soul remembered feelings that his Damned heart could no longer feel, and he found the Man silently rooting for her.

Shun this monster before you, girl. Run away while you still can, before I prove your impurity and consume your life-blood.

Instead, she smiled shyly back, cheeks flushing pink in a blush that was truly alive, unlike Dillon's.

“Studying Hard?” The Gangrel asks with an indicative glance to her workload. His bare twitch of a smile was still there, to lower the girl's guard.

As usual, it did its job.

“Huh?” she asks, a bit bewildered, before following his glance and looking back up with a pearly grin. Her smile had loosened up, even if she stammered timidly. “Oh, these! No, I'm just... researching on my own.”

Dillon closes his book, holding his finger on the page he was reading, stands, and gives her a curious look. “Researching, but not for class. A writer, perhaps?”

Her cheeks turn pink again. “Something like that.” She seems to realize how lame that must sound, and adds a gesture toward Dillon and his choice of reading and section. “How about you? Theology Major?”

“Something like that.”

She laughs, and he with her. Sensing the appropriate time had come, Dillon switches his book to the other hand, and offers her his right. “Name's Dillon, be the way.”

“Gloria!” She takes his hand and gives it a little shake. “Nice to meet you.”

“Gloria, nice to meet you, too. That's a pretty name that I don't hear very often.” And from someone who had been a vampire for almost a hundred and forty-five years, that meant something. He looks back to the display shelves as though he just remembered they were there. “So what is it you're looking for, in this neck of the woods?”

Gloria looks as though she doesn't know what to say to the compliment, raking her lower lip through her teeth and averting her gaze. She latches onto the question and looks up, apparently eager to cover her embarrassment.

“Ah, well...” She also seems to be weighing how silly she was about to sound to the good-looking boy in front of her who had at least some interest or knowledge of religions. “Angel stuff, actually.” She gave the bookshelf a quick, cursory glance. “I just need some reference on the tiers and classifications and stuff like that; to get some ideas from.”

The book Dillon is holding likely has much of the information Gloria is looking for. That is, whatever else there was to know on the subject that he couldn't recall himself. At least one of the spheres of the Sefirot made mention of the Archangel Gabriel as its patron, or something of the sort, along with the Angelic order of Cherubim.

“I think we could be of some help,” the Gangrel says, waggling the book to indicate it as the other party. “I mean, this isn't the only copy or anything, but if you would like to grab a table over there and talk about it, I could fill in a lot of the gaps for you.”


Gloria smiles a smile of big, pretty teeth, that along with those bright eyes, gave her a look of perpetual youth. “Um, Okay! Cool!”

As it turns out, Gloria is an aspiring writer of modern fantasy fiction, with a unique twist. In this alternate world she has imagined, there is a government who titles its officers and executives alike with terms borrowed from the heavenly host. Dillon finds the idea intriguing and imaginative.

“With ideas like these,” he says eventually, “you'll be published in no time.”

Gloria looks down to her notebooks shyly, smiling again. “Thanks. I hope so. But if this doesn't catch on, I have plenty of other ideas.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yep,” she says with her first bit of real confidence and pride tonight. Then, a bit wistfully, “I think that if I could live a hundred years, I'd never get all of the ideas out of my head.”

Dillon blinks, then looks up, briefly. Lord, if that was a sign, I saw it.

“Aw damn,” Gloria says suddenly, eyeing her watch. “I missed the last bus through here. I guess I'm calling a cab; it's getting kind of late...”

As she began to stand and gather up her things, Dillon pitches in to help. But the young woman seems to be getting shy and awkward again, possibly not knowing where the two of them should go from here. “It was really nice meeting you though, Dillon... I really appreciate all of your help.”

“Hey, it was my pleasure.” Dillon flashes a winning grin as he handed over her final notebook. “But listen, let me buy your taxi. It's my fault that we lost track of time, and is the least I could do...”

Whether distracted by his cheesy, crooked grin, or surprised at the chivalrous offer, Gloria is slow in responding. “Oh! No, that's okay, really. I had fun. I couldn't possibly let you do that!”

Dillon looks 'nervously' away, then back, knowing how it might sound. “Then let me take you home? That way neither of us has to buy you a cab fare.”

Gloria smiles, gently chewing her bottom lip again. “O...Okay. Thank you.”