The following takes place immediately following Meeting at Uni




*The lights of the Ordo Dracul Chapter House were all off for the evening. That in itself was unusual; normally at the least the ground floor was lit up behind the heavy curtains that were habitually closed to conceal the inner workings of the Dragon's world. But tonight the Chapter House was closed to all visitors, no exceptions. The only activity that could be found near the Victorian building was around back.

On the edge of the boat dock, Max was busy setting up an old barbecue grill. The paint was faded, the bottom beginning to rust out, and no sane man would eat food cooked on the weather beaten grill top. But, it would serve Max's purpose for the evening quite nicely.

The thin Mekhet lifts the removable metal grillwork from the top, then picks up a bag of Kingsford briquettes that was setting at his feet. Max replayed the events of the meeting with the Regent earlier that night, even as he began to fill the bottom of the grill with charcoal chunks.

He argues silently with himself as he works, trying to make sense of the strange gift and even stranger attitude of the Regent...*

Do you think she seriously believes what's written on that piece of skin?

I don't know. If she does, why tell us about it? Why expose herself as a possible Diablarist?

Maybe she was trying to recruit us? Entice us into helping her get more victims?

There are more subtle ways of doing that than randomly giving out a piece of skin and a helmet. And why turn over a tangible link to what she was trying to accomplish?

Perhaps it was another way of enticing us? She knows how fanatical the Order can be in chasing down information...

Perhaps. But I can't believe she would simply expose herself so easily, throw away everything she'd worked so hard at here in Sacramento...


*Once there was a nice pile of charcoal; Max takes up the large bottle of lighter fluid from the docks and begins emptying it onto the briquettes. He didn't care about the lingering taste it could add to food; Max wanted to make sure this fire burned long and hot.

Once the bottle was almost empty, he walks away from the grill and back towards dry land and the large suitcase he had left there...*

So, what does this all mean?

It means we have to be very careful. It's not like we can walk up to the Reeve and accuse one of the city's Regents of being a Diablarist.

So we do nothing?

No. We wait. We watch. If Brady really is going down the road this writing suggests, it won't be long before the signs begin to show on her...

*He opens the case, taking out the piece of flesh samwiched between the thick pieces of plastic. He holds it carefully, studying the disgusting relic under the soft moonlight.

Max forces stolen blood through his dead veins, the Vitae fueling a surge of strength in the thin Mekhet. He lifts the plastic over his head, driving down onto one of the wood pilings that marked the start of the wooden deck.

It takes a few blows, but the plastic eventually pops, allowing Max to withdraw the aged strip of flesh from it's protective casing. He carefully holds it between thumb and forefinger; a mixture of revulsion and curisoity mixing within his long-dead heart.

He wanted to study the writing, to know if what was written on it was true. His thirst for knowledge makes Max hesitate for a moment.*

Once you do this, there will be no way of recovering the information....

I know. But that is the way it has to be. The information written here is too dangerous to be allowed to exist any longer. It may have already claimed Brady's soul. We don't need any more of Sacramento's Kindred taken in by it's lies...

*For a moment, the two parts of Max's mind think in unison. They first turn to Tracy, who was coming to mean much to Max, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. After a few moments, his thoughts turn to Martha. Like Tracy, she held a special place within Max's cold heart; though for very different reasons. The tiny Mekhet did not seem the kind to walk the path of the Locusts, but....*

I still say she's Brood...

SHUT UP

*Max's analytical and emotional selves speak at the same time, trying to drown out his Sire's voice. The last thing the thin Mekhet needed now was more self-doubt. Some knowledge came at too high a price, and this short missive certainly fell into that category.

Max makes his way back to the grill, placing the ancient piece of flesh on top of the lighter fluid soaked charcoals. He reaches down, using the last bit of fluid to soak the retched writing, then pulls out a Zippo lighter. It was a cheap Chinese knock-off, barely ten dollars at Wal-Mart. But, the windproof chimney would work well enough for what Max had in mind.

He steps back, flicking the top open with a satisfyingly metallic “Clink”. A quick downward spin of the striker wheel and a spray of sparks ignites the wick of the lighter. Max's Beast rages for a moment at the small flame, but he easily controls the panic. Besides, a much larger inferno was about to be ignited.

Max gets ready to toss the lighter into the grill, but hesitates. No matter how vile, he could not ignore the fact he was about to destroy information. Knowledge one man had killed and consumed the soul of another fore....*

I hope you know what you're doing, Max...

So do I...

*The thin Mekhet finally sums up enough courage to toss the lit Zippo forward. Max watches as it lands in one corner, the small flame flickering for a moment as heat, fuel, and oxygen take a millisecond to combust.

When the fire finally catches, the dark night sky is lit up by a column of flame that makes even the controlled Mekhet back away in fear. His Beast screams in the dark reaches of his mind; but the former Reeve locks it back into place with a moment's exertion of pure will.

He watches intently as the edges of the aged flesh ignite, curl, and quickly burn away into ash. Max doesn't move an inch until his Auspex-enhanced sight provides proof that last bit of flesh has burned away. He remains at the edge of the dock, shifting impatiently as he waits for the flames to die.*

So what do we do now?

Like I said: We watch and wait. We can't go to the Reeve, not yet. If Brady really is a Diablarist, the body count will start to pick up very soon.

We just have to watch our own necks...

Exactly...

*Once the flames were out and coals were cooled, Max gathered up the ashes in a brown paper garbage bag.

If anyone looked out onto Lake Clarke that night in the early hours just before sunrise, they might see a lone figure in a canoe. It pauses for a few moments at the center of the lake; just long enough to allow the bio-degradable bag become waterlogged and sink to the bottom of the lake...*