"Will you require someone to accompany you to Esbat this evening, your Excellency?"
Morgan looked up from the book in her lap, blinked once, and considered the man in front of her for a moment. Glancing down at the page she had been staring at for what seemed to be an eternity, she made a mental note of the page number before closing the book and setting it on the enormous desk in front of her. Her gaze fell momentarily on a calendar. April 14.
"This is... Sunday. No, thank you, I will not be attending this evening's Esbat. I... I usually spend my Sunday evenings with the other Necronomists of St. Louis. But... as they are not here with us, I suppose I will simply continue my reading."
"Very well, your Excellency. How do your studies progress?"
"Acceptably enough. Thank you."
The man nodded and bowed curtly, leaving the room nearly as soundlessly as he had entered.
Morgan released an exaggerated sigh from her long dead lungs. It was a very human thing to do, but a habit of which she had never entirely broken herself.
"Sunday," she murmured to herself. "I have been here now for more than a week. Holed up in this study, with three packs of Cainites here to do whatever I ask of them. And yet, if I were to make the one request that I most want to make, they would deny me my wish. How can I help to lead the Cainites of this city if I must be treated as though I am a fragile doll... as though if I were to set foot outside of this... fortress, I would be torn to shreds by nature itself? No, I have nothing to fear from nature..."
Her thoughts turned to that which was troubling both herself and her fellow Cainites. The others of the city had dubbed their stalker the "faceless killer." Bishop Ja'Dan had put the pictures in her mind of what this individual looked like. The appelation was appropriate, but hardly useful. Not only was the killer faceless, he was also impossible to track, foresee, or stop.
He had first destroyed Wilme. Wilme, who was Carlos' brother in blood. One evening, many months previous, Morgan had watched in fascination as Wilme stripped down to the waist and carved his flesh with a wicked looking knife. Still following the heretical ways at that point, she had wondered if he was not a like-minded follower. Later events had shown that to be far from true, but one fact remained. Wilme was more than capable of taking punishment. He was also more than capable of doling out punishment, as she had witnessed when Wilme had led a small group to fight the one they thought was Carlos' killer. One such as Wilme would not have been easy to destroy.
He had second destroyed Tate. Tate, who had helped Morgan more than he knew, before leaving the sect because of his emotions. Morgan had once seen Tate thrown into a wall by a Lasombra possessed of great strength. The wall had suffered far more damage than Tate had. One such as Tate would not have been easy to destroy either.
Finally, he had destroyed Bambi. Morgan still found herself puzzled as to why someone who had destroyed two powerful targets would next have chosen such a weak one. Bambi may have been a reasonably good learner, and had begun to exhibit more intelligence than Morgan would have initially given her credit for, but Bambi was not someone that most people troubled themselves over. She was far too easy to destroy.
Although there were other targets--Ja'Dan, Akasha, and perhaps some of the others--Morgan felt certain that she would be the next Cainite to be tested by the faceless killer. She knew better than to fool herself. Anyone capable of destroying both Wilme and Tate would be more than capable of destroying her. Her own death was, clearly, the only certain outcome of such an encounter.
The Archbishop had recommended that all of the city's Cainites stay with their packs. Dark Horizon, the pack which Morgan served as priest, rarely stayed together. The pack had recently taken on several new members, and was beginning to come together. But, at the moment, they had nowhere that could accommodate all of them. The Blood of Carpathia, on the other hand, had quite sufficient facilities for a large number of Cainites. They had invited Morgan to visit them, and Morgan had thought it wise to take them up on the invitation this time. Savoir Faire, another of the city's packs, was also staying with the Blood of Carpathia for a time. It was an ideal situation for all involved. Plenty to study, and plenty of protection.
But now, the idea of being protected was quickly growing loathsome to Morgan. She had served as a Templar, first to Carlos, and later to Ja'Dan. She knew that she was more than capable of protecting herself. She did not fear the idea that the faceless killer might strike her down. From everything that she had seen and learned about him, he would be capable of striking her down here, if he desired to do so. This "protection" was nothing more than a useless waste of time.
As a Necronomist, Morgan had been resigned to her eventual death for some time. All things must die, and even the undead were no exception to that rule. Acceptance of such a fate was now second nature to her. But Morgan refused to die without a fight, and she refused to die without making a difference.
"St. Charles," she murmured aloud, her thoughts quickly becoming plans. The Cainites of St. Louis had been struggling to take the smaller city of St. Charles from the Camarilla even before Morgan had arrived in St. Louis. But they had not been successful... yet. Morgan suspected that there was a lack of initiative amongst many of the Cainites of St. Louis. Many were unwilling to go into such a fight, a fight in which they knew that many of their own number would be destroyed.
There had been some raids, to be sure. But after every raid, a period of inactivity among the Sabbat Cainites always allowed the Camarilla to regroup. Morgan nodded firmly, her plans fully made and ready to be executed.
Unfortunately, Morgan knew that her own pack, as well as the other packs staying here, would not see things her way. Turning her attention back to the desk in front of her, she began to write.
A small rat squeaked shrilly, pawing at the twine which held a piece of paper on its back. Bob noticed the rat, and went to help it shed its burden. Unfolding the piece of paper, he smoothed it out and carefully tacked it to the nearby bulletin board.
To my brothers and sisters,
I have spent more than a year in the city of St. Louis. My time in this city has been most productive, and I have learned a great deal. To all who have taught me directly, my greatest thanks. To all who have taught me indirectly, I thank you as well.
I know that I have been marked for death by the coward whom we have dubbed the "faceless one." He taunts us by taking our blood in our communal haven, and by leaving cryptic notes to frighten us. Yet he is not willing to show his face, or lack thereof, and fight those he intends to destroy. He has already destroyed our brother Wilme and our sister Bambi, and he has also destroyed our former brother Tate. It seems likely that I am his next target.
As a Necronomist, I have been taught not to fear death, for it is only through death that we can learn what lies beyond. I do not fear my imminent death. But at the same time, I will not simply sit by idly and await its coming.
For months, the Cainites of St. Louis have talked about taking the city of St. Charles from Camarilla hands. We have gathered information, and made some strikes. But we have not done enough. To acquire St. Charles from the Camarilla requires all out war, and a full devotion to this war from EVERY Cainite in St. Louis. Our efforts to date have not reflected this necessity.
I am taking the war to the so-called "Kindred" of St. Charles. I will shatter their precious Masquerade, and I will destroy any of them who cross my path. If the "faceless one" deigns to grace me with his presence, I will make every effort to destroy him as well. Perhaps I shall succeed, and you shall see me again.
As my final words to you, my brothers and sisters, I simply have this to say: The Sabbat is in need of your services, in whatever form you can offer them. Do what you can to aid the sect. If you do not, I hope that Caine may have mercy upon your souls...
... but I don't think that's very likely.
Sabbatum servire existo,
--Bishop Stephanie Morgan
--Pack Priest of Dark Horizon
--Servitor of the Sabbat
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