Heathcliff arrives early for his appointment with the ancient Beast that had cornered him at the Nosferatu meeting. She had said little while there, except to talk to him. He was suspicious of her motives; she must know of his own Sire. What did she want? To deliver a message? To exact retribution? Perhaps mistakenly, he had agreed to meet her on her territory...All Hallows Church of the Sanctified. He adjusts his navy tie, worn with his best black suit and shined shoes. Cleanliness was next to godliness, after all, and it was the best Heath had. He knocks at the door of her chamber, silently praying there is no response.

God does not, however, hear Heathcliff's prayer... or if he does, he chooses to disregard it. "Enter," says the cold voice.

Typical, Heathcliff thinks sourly, and does enter, keeping his eyes forward as he does so, and shutting the door by means of switching hands behind his back, which he then clasps behind the other and takes a step forward. He can feel the woman's Beast from here, and it’s all he can do to keep from running back out right through the closed door. "Good evening, madam."

Heathcliff finds the Mother Superior dressed in the same outfit she wore to the Nosferatu clan meeting... a standard nun's outfit, but all the parts that would be white on a mortal nun are instead blood red. The left sleeve of her outfit is rolled up, and on her left hand and forearm she wears a black leather gauntlet. It extends almost to the elbow. There are metal plates on the backs of the hand and forearms and on the first knuckle, and the plates are lined with short spikes. With her other hand, she uses a rag to clean the gauntlet, which he sees is crusty with what looks to be dried blood. The companion to this gauntlet is on the bed nearby, looking freshly cleaned. He also notices her sheathed sword hanging from a coat rack in the corner of the room. She looks up from her work to greet Heathcliff. "Thank you for coming, Mister Staley. Please have a seat."

Heathcliff's own Beast squirms inside him like an evil puppy, scratching at the door of his mind to RUN! Instead he nods, and smiles pleasantly. He takes a seat as she requests. "Certainly, madam. What can I do for you?"

She looks back downward at her work, picks up a small wire brush, and uses it to clean one of the spikes as she replies. "I would just like to ask you a few questions, that's all. About you, about your impressions of the Lancea et Sanctum, and about Mariel."

Sure, just a few questions, while I clean the blood of the last person who gave me the wrong answers from my blade. "Yes, ma'am."

"Mariel has mentioned that your Sire was of the Sanctified, and that he abandoned you without giving you appropriate training into either your nature or the Sanctified way. Is this correct?"

The easy ones first, then. Stay on your guard, old boy. "Yes, ma'am, that is true. Well, not quite," he elaborates.

"Go on," she says, looking up at him.

"He taught me most about my new nature; I was acknowledged, I was taught the Laws, I knew what I was, why I was, he taught me the Disciplines of our clan, all before he left. With regards to the Sanctified way, I was an unwilling student. I learned what I needed to know to survive without him, and nothing more. If I gave Mariel the impression otherwise, I do apologize."

She simply nods. "And why you were an unwilling student to your sire?"

I have to handle this respectfully and honestly. A tight rope if ever I saw one. "With all due respect, madam, I was taken unwillingly from my mortal life. I was determined to find my way back to it, despite Sebastian's assertions that I was damned to be a monster forever for my sins." He watched her face as he mentioned his Sire's name to see if it got a reaction.

Heathcliff sees no reaction to his mention of his Sire's name, but he does not a bit of extra chill in her voice when she asks "So you disagreed that your sins had damned you. Do you still believe this to be the case?"

Delicately, Cliff. "I have considered it often since, and I have yet to reach a conclusion."

The Mother Superior studies his face for a few moments, saying nothing, before continuing. "Was your disagreement with your Sire's teachings a matter of not accepting what you were told, or was it more a matter of your not believing yourself worthy of damnation?"

Heathcliff gives her question due consideration. "The former, madam. I admit, I do not know the Bible, or the...other bible, that well, but some verses I've heard over the years stick in my mind. 'None is righteous, no, not one,' stands out at the moment."

"And what do you take that passage to mean, Mr. Staley?" she asks. Heathcliff notices she lifts up the gauntleted hand, makes a fist and moves it back and forth, looking at it from different angles, before she goes back to cleaning it.

"That if any are worthy of damnation, all are." Heathcliff was getting nervous. Pretty soon he'd be debating theology with the monster holding the medieval weaponry. This was a bad, bad spot to be in.

"And do you agree with that sentiment, Mr. Staley?" she asks.

Goddammit, she won't just take half an answer, will she? "I don't know. But I don't know more now than I didn't know a year ago."

"Being aware one does not know something is the first step to finding an answer, Mr. Staley. Since you know there are important things for which you have no answer, you might wish to remedy that." She lifts the gauntlet again to study it from a different angle, then continues.

"What is your impression of the local Bishop, Father Black?"

Heathcliff tries to hide his relief at the change of subject. "I spoke with him briefly at Mass. He seemed a nice enough fellow."

“Did you have any thoughts about his sermon?"

"Oh, I...arrived late, and missed it, unfortunately."

She nods at that. "And what has been your impression his handling of the local Church?"

"I really don't know enough to give you an opinion, madam. I've found myself quite busy since the Lost Nights struck our city."

"Indeed. And have you heard any of your fellow Kindred state their impressions of Father Black or of the local Sanctified? Any impressions at all?"

Heathcliff shakes his nead no. "Madam, most of the Kindred in this city barely acknowledge my presence, let alone speak with me at any length."

"Yet Mariel speaks with you. Why is that, Mr. Staley?"

"I amuse her, I think. Though, I can tell you that I was surprised to find those two young vampires escorting you were Sanctified, they looked like teenagers," he says, his voice thick with fatherly disapproval.

"As you said, they are young," she replies.

"Do you find Mariel amusing as well?"

"No, that's not how I would describe here. Exciting, I think. The woman is more alive dead than many human women I've met over the course of my life. Unless, of course, they were vampires, and I didn't know it." He chortles. Perhaps Mother Superior finds me amusing as well?

"Is she now? Or is it possible you mistake sinfulness for vitality? These other women who don't measure up... is your wife one of them, Mr. Staley?"

Heathcliff is too alarmed to hide his panic. His white eyes grow wide and he quietly answers, "...you know I have a family, then." He sits in the chair, feeling useless, worse than useless...he hadn't protected them…memories of the nightmares inflicted upon him by Lazarus' ghoul dig their way from his unconscious...

"Mr. Staley, I represent the Lancea et Sanctum. We have been around since the days of the Roman Empire, and survived its fall, while the Camarilla - supposedly the most powerful achievement of our kind - did not. Those of us who are well connected to the church can access information and resources most cannot imagine. It was a simple matter - two phone calls is all - to gather more information about you than you probably know about yourself.

Tell me, Mr. Staley... had a creature like Mariel - so young-looking, appearing closer to your daughter's age than your own or that of your wife - approached you while you lived and expressed an interest in having carnal relations with you, would you have betrayed your wife and done so?"

He doesn't even have the heart to argue that his daughter is only ten, and god damn her for saying something so despicable. "...yes." The word sounds as though it is has had to travel a vast distance to reach these chambers.

"And you don't think that fact is enough to justify your damnation, Mr. Staley?"

"I don't know," he says automatically, his voice hollow. The thinking portion of his brain had turned off. Right now, he wanted to know what the damn bitch wanted, how much he was going to have to give, and whether it would make a difference anyway.

"Oh, I think you do. But you can thank God, Mr. Staley, for in damning you and removing you from the mortal coil, He not only gave you an opportunity to know - in all the permutations of that word - an exquisitely sinful creature like Mariel, but He even did so while removing the possibility of you taking home some disease - perhaps something fatal - to your wife. Truly He is merciful. And you have a place in His plans."

Heathcliff turns his eyes to the floor. "What is that place?" he asks resignedly.

"Why, to accept the fact of your damnation, of course. To accept you are one of the Damned, and that you have a role to play, that of the Holy Monster, intended to frighten sinners like your mortal self, and Mariel's, and mine, toward the righteous path. Your Sire intended you to be Sanctified. That path, that place in God's plan, is open to you."

Even Sebastian had drawn the line at threatening Heathcliff's family. He had known that that if he had tried, given how poorly the neonate was dealing with the Embrace, that very well might turn him against the Church, militantly. But, on his own, his lonely Requiem dragged on and on, and every night called for a new compromise. What was one more, in the vain effort of keeping his family safe a while longer? "And, if I take my rightful place, will God watch over my wife and daughter?"

"I would not presume to know God's plans and what place your wife and daughter play in them, Mr. Staley. But consider that in removing them from you, He was watching over them, removing them from your sin. And consider also what resources one who is Sanctified might be able to access with time and through loyal and dedicated service. And how those might be applied."

The Mother Superior, apparently finished cleaning her gauntlet, removes it and sets it by the other one, on the bed. She folds her hands in her lap and studies Heathcliff.

Before him, the carrot. Behind him, a stick so large it didn't need to be stated. Heathcliff looks at Mother Superior, and says solemnly, "Then I will accept my place among those Chosen for this work."

"Excellent," she says, nodding. "Present yourself to Father Black and state your wishes. Find your path within the Church. Perhaps Father Black could use a Deacon, or perhaps, once you've given the matter thought, you might wish to pursue a higher position, perhaps even clergy. So, study with Father Black, and with Mariel. And keep me informed of your studies... and bring any concerns you might have to me."

And for the first time Heathcliff has seen, the Mother Superior smiles. Her smile is not a pleasant thing. The corners of her mouth curl upwards in a rictus. Her smile reminds Heathcliff of a wolf or a shark, or what Heathcliff thinks their smiles might look like if they were able to smile..

Heathcliff nods, his eyes drawn to the woman's bared teeth, her smile more animal than human. It looks like he's being dismissed. Mentally, he collects what shreds of his dignity remain, and replies, "Yes, of course. Is there anything else, Mother?"

"Not tonight, no. But let us talk again soon, and before dawn, take some time to pray, and thank God for His infinite mercy."

"Yes, I will consider Him," he says, rising from his seat, and his inner voice is compelled to add the vindictive Bastard. Heathcliff then exits her quarters without delay.