Embrace Ch. 04

"Like it was yesterday." the spirit rasps.

Amelia covers her mouth to stifle a sob. She is grateful for Meryem's comforting presence. These tears come too easily. Wolf-Dietrich doesn't deserve her fear or her respect. She pushes her horror aside, but it has stirred her beast and anger quickly replaces her fear.

"He did that to your throat, didn't he?" she says.

"He put me out of my misery, yes." The man's voice is ruined, but his face is easy to read. The suffering on it. "I couldn't have lived with what he made me do." He smiles bitterly. "Cold comfort now."

"We didn't deserve it." Amelia says sharply. "He's a monster, and so is she."

The man laughs, a wet bubbling sound that makes Amelia shudder. "My family don't deserve it."

The beast doesn't like that. Amelia takes a moment to control herself.

"Does he have them now?" she says.

"Christ no. I'm thankful for that." He stares at the book. "You're holding a piece of me in your hand lady. It's like they said. I should have stayed away from the skinlands."

"Forgive me, sir." Amelia sets the book down. "Judge for yourself, I have no quarrel with you. I well know that a mortal has no hope of denying Wolf-Dietrich's command."

"Then I'm free to leave?" The man glances nervously at Meryem but the elder doesn't acknowledge his question.

"What brought you here in the first place?" Amelia asks.

"What do you care?"

Amelia shrugs. "This is a part of me he can't control. And you. He would never imagine that you would defy his edict and continue to exist."

The ghost cocks his head to one side, thinking it over perhaps. This is not so different to dealing with the living, if only Amelia could guess what the spirit needs.

"Naturally you don't trust my kind," she continues, "Watch me for a while then. Let me know if there's anything you need. maybe something left unfinished, or words left unsaid. If I'm able, I will help you."

"Then what? What will I owe you?"

"It will be enough for me to know you rest easier. But if you were inclined to do something for me in return, you are well placed to observe. I would dearly love to know why my sire despises me so much. What makes him so happy to throw my life away to hurt a woman, an old rival perhaps, whom I am sure he has not seen for decades. Better still I would love to have some means of defending myself against him and my wicked sister in blood." Amelia laughs, "Nothing much then. Just a miracle."

"Catherine?" He spits as he says her name. "There are half a dozen of us on this side of the shroud with her death mark." He gestures to his horrific stomach wound. "The worst part is how well she hides the bodies. Deserters don't get paid so their widows don't get paid. Their children don't get paid."

"That's terrible. Truly, if I were not the weakest of them, I would put a stop to it myself, but no one will punish her for murder." Amelia remembers Felix's lessons, what little he has taught. "They're all murderers. It's other things, petty things really, that might lead to justice done. If she broke the masquerade, or defiled another kindred's domain, or killed one of us."

How futile this is. Catherine's status is everything, who would believe Amelia even if she uncovered something? And yet it is tempting to hope.

Amelia looks over at Meryem. "If she was stupid enough to attack me again, surely she'd have done it by now. I can't see her embracing anyone. What else is there?"

Meryem takes Amelia's shaking hand. "Watching and waiting is most prudent for now. Opportunities will arise when her madness makes her careless. Meanwhile, you have means. You could easily support the families of the murdered. If they will simply observe..."

"What if they don't want a stranger knowing who their families are?"

"Patience childe. You are no mere stranger, you are the only person who can hear the dead speak for a hundred miles in any direction."

*

Weeks pass.

Making use of Franz's significant dower to feed and clothe widows and orphans is rewarding. With the same stroke, Amelia legitimises her alter ego and soon has a modest haven of her own. In the tomes of the clan library, there is no record of another kindred taking responsibility for the destitute families of deceased servants. Gaston, the keeper of Paracida's records, is amused. He records her domain and budding influence with the blessing of the prince.

Meryem is correct. Word soon spreads among the spirits of Vienna that a sympathetic medium can hear their pleas and act on them. Some of Catherine's victims were mere mortal retainers not ghouls. Soldiers she lured into meeting with her many times before she chose to torture them to death. Some are concerned with the people they left behind, others pray only for vengeance. Many are eager to spy on Catherine and Wolf-Dietrich.

Other spirits that had nothing to do with the kindred of Vienna come and make their requests too. Amelia finds herself writing to all sorts of strangers, digging for lost artifacts in fields, purchasing various curios and antiques and delivering them to long lost relatives. Some spirits can almost settle into her flesh, their senses blurring into her own much like Felix.

When she is with Meryem, wrapped in the comfort of another's love, it seems like this precarious existence might last forever. When alone, the reality of its impermanence drives Amelia to despair.

*

Then one summer night Amelia calls on Diallo Mambe to find his front door wide open. Cloaking herself in shadow she enters to find creatures of stone shamelessly turning through the elder's belongings. A pile of ash and bones is gradually being dispersed by the breeze from the open front door.

She runs from the place, giddy with terror. It's not fair. It's too soon. Meryem.

*

In the chaos that follows, Amelia recounts what she has witnessed no fewer than six times. First to the gangrel sheriff, who gives a name to the stone creatures. Tremere gargoyles. Then to her sire, who brings her before the prince to testify once more. Then before the court, the tremere ambassador comes up with a rather unlikely explanation. Perhaps these creatures were investigating a death that had already happened, in any case, there are no Tremere gargoyles in Vienna. A monstrous nosferatu named Cyrano lays into the woman first, then interrogates Amelia. She is forced to repeatedly describe the stone creatures in detail until the ambassador concedes that they may well have been gargoyles. The tremere then presses the idea that any Nosferatu could have mimicked such creatures. Cyrano is close to frenzy. Amelia points out the obvious detail that Lady Sophia is a pacifist that feeds only from animals, much beloved of her clan, and she too is missing from a ransacked haven.

The prince is furious. Amelia drifts among the kindred, curiously detached from all of this, even as the sheriff reports that Meryem is missing too. That her house seems to have been robbed.

Amelia finds a quiet corner to sit in, within earshot of proceedings of course, and watches. They have sent for Etrius, the tremere regent, but he is a day away. There is anger on both sides, but Amelia feels only creeping despair.

"Still now, stay as you are, there are eyes on you girl."

Despite Meryem's warning Amelia gasps. She quickly pulls out her fan and puts it to use. Meryem is right. The tremere ambassador is being harried on all sides by indignant court kindred, by the sheriff and his deputies, nevertheless, she barely takes her eyes off Amelia.

"There will be hell to pay but I will get us out of Vienna. Play along with the prince my darling, let him protect you, as soon as it's safe I will send for you."

"I've heard that before." Amelia mutters behind her fan. Safe in this nest of vipers. "I love you. I will always love you."

The tremere ambassador approaches, and Amelia hurriedly stands so that she can make a proper bow. Embarrassed by the tears that came unbidden on hearing Meryem's voice in her head, she still shields herself with the fan.

There's nothing but sympathy on the woman's face as she offers Amelia a handkerchief.

"We've never been formally introduced now, have we?"

Before Amelia can reply, Lady Eleanor seems to materialise out of thin air.

"There is a good reason for that, Anastasia."

The ambassador makes a bow of her own as Amelia curtsies and meets Eleanor's eyes with dread. The elder offers an arm and Amelia allows herself to be led out of court. She knows better than to ask questions. Eleanor either heard her whisper to Meryem or she didn't.

"The prince has wisely appointed me your guardian until Etrius arrives. Open court on a night like this is no place for an unreleased childe who is not to engage with other kindred."

"Yes my lady," Amelia stammers, "But Wolf..."

"Your sire is on the prince's business. There have been other disturbances. Here we are."

Amelia stands and waits as the elder lights a couple of candles from the torch outside. Lady Eleanor's quarters are immaculately kept, with grand mahogany panelled walls and sumptuous furniture. There is a small portrait of Prince Johannes on one wall, a vast oil landscape of an ocean tempest on another. Amelia is drawn to a globe on a stand, intricately detailed with gold and lapis.

"How beautiful this is." She runs her hand over the textured mountains.

"Here, childe. Let us keep you from idleness."

Amelia is given a basket of tangled threads to unravel while Lady Eleanor works. Kindred come and go. Amelia kneels at the lady's feet and busies herself as she listens. Various kindred make reports of their progress combing the city for Meryem which is doubtless a waste of time.

As the night draws on, the prince himself appears. He slams the door with a flourish. Lady Eleanor sets aside her needlework and takes his cloak. She invites him to sit but he paces irritably instead.

"If the tremere don't have her, and the nosferatu can't find her, where the bloody hell is she?"

Eleanor resumes her needlework with a sigh.

"My lord, we are doing everything we can, if she is in Vienna, it is only a matter of time..."

"We must simply make Etrius aware of that and count on his understanding?" the prince laughs mirthlessly.

Eleanor scowls at him and inclines her head in Amelia's direction.

"Please." he scoffs. "Anastasia tells me the necromancer made contact with this innocent little childe at court. Didn't tell you that, did she, the little weasel."

Amelia meets Eleanor's incredulous stare with growing dread.

"Is this true?"

"I don't know." Amelia says miserably. "I don't know what to believe."

The embroidery frame snaps into kindling and Amelia flinches as Eleanor sets it gingerly aside.

Paracida laughs more genuinely now. "Of course you don't."

Eleanor ignores him and sets a hand carefully on Amelia's shoulder. "You must share what you know childe. The future of your city depends on it. What have you been told?"

It's not fear that closes Amelia's throat, simply the weight of the inevitable.

"I... I expect she has reconsidered..."

"Reconsidered?" Eleanor says. The word hangs in the air. Amelia watches the rage blossom on the elder's face and cowers. "Reconsidered?" Eleanor stands and literally stamps her foot. "What kind of nonsense... How wretched are those forsworn to Lord Tythos! What, reconsidered, damn her, she has fucked us all!"

"Calm down Eleanor darling."

The prince puts a comforting arm around Eleanor and doesn't seem to notice her shiver with revulsion at his touch.

"I know exactly what will bring our cappadocian guest out of hiding."

"You do?" Eleanor asks, her words dripping with sarcasm.

*

Dizzying echoes fill Amelia's head. She feels the weight of shackles on her wrists and ankles, a collar around her neck. The place comes slowly into focus, a court chamber with vaulted ceiling and long narrow stained glass windows. The prince sits on a throne with Wolf-Dietrich on his right, Eleanor on his left. Before the prince, a stern faced man in purple and grey robes is speaking. Other robed kindred look on, all strangers to Amelia. A city of kindred within a city, the tremere clan.

After a moment's silence the prince speaks.

"We find the testimony overwhelming, Etrius. It is my solemn duty to condemn the cappadocian known as Meryem to final death. The traitor is blood hunted in the city of Vienna, having violated the most ancient law of hospitality with her murderous acts. It is my sad duty to pass the same sentence upon this traitorous childe."

A chill descends on the packed courtroom, frost blossoms on the coloured glass. With a tearing sound like metal running over metal, a black rift opens up in the ceiling above the gathered tremere. Many of the kindred panic, clambering over one another as they succumb to fear.

Meryem comes riding through the opening mouth of hell on a wave of shadow, shrieking like the devil, her face twisted with rage. A lone figure holds his ground. Etrius pulls a two foot stake from his robe and impales the frenzying ancient cleanly through the heart. It's over in seconds.

Amelia screams like a woman possessed. They carry helpless Meryem away wrapped in a winding sheet and still she can't stop screaming, pleading, but the words become lost in grief. Wolf-Dietrich leaves his seat and at his approach Amelia spits and curses, the last of her self control in tatters. He overpowers her easily, stuffs her mouth with some fabric and smacks her face down onto the marble.

"Do we have any other businesses here, Your Highness?" He seethes. "Or shall I put this wretch out of her misery?"

"Walk with me Wolf-Dietrich." The prince waves his hand. "Court is dismissed anyhow."

"I cannot let this insolence go unpunished, my lord."

"It's merely the blood bond man. Surely you see that?" Paracida steps down to Wolf-Dietrich. "Eleanor's a fair disciplinarian when pressed into service. Your hand is too heavy tonight my friend. Come."

"I will not have my authority over my own childe questioned!"

"I have business that cannot wait, are you my seneschal or not?"

Amelia whimpers as Wolf-Dietrich let's go of her neck at last. Meryem's last shriek echoes in her mind. There is nothing to be done but endure. But she is so tired, body and soul, so tired. The pair of them leave her slumped on the cold stone floor.

Ghouls take the shackles from her body. Ghouls wipe away her tears and remove the filthy gag. Amelia recognises the servant that fed and dressed her the first night of this madness. The woman is distressed to see Amelia's suffering.

"It's alright." Amelia says, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I'll be alright," she lies. She forces herself to stand as they minister to her. There can be no more grovelling to Wolf-Dietrich. There can be no more languishing in ignorance waiting for Felix.

When they leave, Amelia sinks to her knees, her will spent. The threadbare shift moves in the draft but Amelia is still. The light will come through these beautiful windows in a few hours. All she needs to do is wait. It will hurt. Worse than a beating, perhaps worse than fire, but less than this gaping hole in her heart.

Madame Eleanor walks down from the podium and sits on the step.

"He blood hunted me." Amelia says miserably. "Will no one..."

"A ruse, childe, nothing more." Eleanor replies.

Here are the ugly tears again. Anastasia had looked at her so smugly as they carried Meryem away.

"It's all lies. She never..."

"Perhaps." Eleanor concedes. "But it is the only way. Has she sacrificed herself for nothing?"

"I don't want this anymore. The gift, the curse, whatever it is. Let me go."

"No-one will touch you." Eleanor says firmly. " But why choose this miserable place to die, surrounded by these blasphemous heretics?"

"What do you care?" Amelia feels Eleanor's shadow fall across her and looks up accusingly.

"I know a place, half a mile outside the walls. There you can sit and watch the sunrise over the ancient forests."

The elder offers a hand and Amelia clambers to her feet.

"I hate you."

Eleanor smiles, but it's not the predators leer Amelia has become accustomed to.

"I know."

*

They walk the narrow cobbled lanes in the pouring rain. Amelia's bare feet slide in the mud and she struggles to keep up with nimble Eleanor. They pause a while atop the fortifications with the broad slope of the glacis falling away beneath. Eleanor jumps down the five yard drop and rolls to her feet like a cat. The lady offers no instruction, no encouraging words but simply waits until Amelia finds the courage to follow. It is a graceless leap and a worse landing, but Eleanor doesn't mock. Amelia grasps the hand she is offered and scrambles to her feet on the rocky ground.

It is a grim walk to the tree line, rain slapping against the mud and plastering Amelia's hair to her face. She shivers at the sickening feeling of it running under her flimsy garment.

The place Eleanor spoke of is a small wooded knoll topped with a fallen lightning tree. Blackened and twisted, its upper surface is worn smooth by countless visitors to this place. It must be a magnificent view on a clear night. Amelia sits and waits. Black clouds chase above, the rain waxes and wanes from drizzle to downpour and back again.

"Are you literally going to stand there and watch me burn?" Amelia asks irritably

"That is entirely up to you."

"Me?" Amelia sniffs. She wipes the wet hair out of her eyes again. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"It will be a slow, cold sunrise. You're soaking wet. Likely you will frenzy and run for shelter before you catch fire. There is still time to reconsider."

"I have nothing left to live for. You've taken everything from me, unless, is there any way we can save her? They might not do it right away, she could still be alive..."

Eleanor sighs. She comes to sit on the lightning tree and stares out into the lowering darkness of the forest.

"No girl. There is no changing the fate of the cappadocian witch. But you are mistaken to say that you have nothing to live for."

Why is this cruel elder so determined to save a pathetic neonate? Amelia reaches for the sight and the aura of Eleanor's emotions is difficult to make out. Its flat grey thundercloud shot with a tracery of silver is familiar to Amelia now but subtle oscillations between the pink of compassion and the brown of bitterness are new.

"You can't possibly understand." Amelia says coldly.

Eleanor is amused now. "No. Perhaps not. Are you cold? Tired? Hungry? Does your ankle hurt from falling so hard on it? Does your face hurt from your beating?"

"No." Amelia snaps. "Because I'm dead."

"Bah, no, not dead, you are no mere mortal. The world is more than the city of Vienna. I can teach you more than your sire if you choose."

She's so sure of herself it sickens Amelia.

"You, teach me? I loved her. I'm dead inside without her. All you can teach me is to make-believe that this," Amelia stands and waves her arms at the lowering clouds, "any of this means anything at all! Go back to the prince of lies and warm his bed, you arrogant bitch. I hope you make each other miserable for another hundred years, I want none of it!"

Something in Amelia's blood pushes out of its own accord. It wants Eleanor to know madness and rage, or perhaps it reaches into the elder kindred to find a madness that was already there. Amelia stands waiting to be torn apart in a frenzy that never comes. Instead, cold red tears melt into the rain on Eleanor's beautiful face.

"Take it back." she sobs. "Whatever this is, undo it this instant."

Amelia laughs. The aura is almost all hatred and sadness now. Fighting through both stormy colours is the sunset pink of compassion.

"Even if I wanted to, I have no idea how."