House of Secrets

by James Moore

  Appolonius moved then, a blur, and grabbed Use Decameron by her wrist before she could do more than tense in preparation of some movement or another. “No more hocus-pocus, witch-bitch!” he hissed.

  Kurt moved as well, reaching for the Brujah elder, prepared to return Use’s earlier favor, but the Lupine beat him to it. Even as the Beast attacked, the illusion that surrounded it started to fragment, an odd juxtaposition of nine-foot tall monster and 5'10" human. With equally terrifying speed and a deafening roar, the Beast raked its front claws down Appolonius’ back, even as the pressure he applied to Use’s hand made her cry out. The Brujah’s stained denim vest shredded with the blow, each of the werewolf’s claws leaving red furrows from shoulder to hip. Appolonius’ voice roared out to mingle with the fading echoes of Use’s scream and the Beast’s battle cry.

  Appolonius faced the monstrous brute before him, his eyes goggling slightly as he stared at the distorted illusion around the Lupine. With a savage efficiency, he swung at the snarling face of his opponent, striking the Beast a glancing blow off its bristling hide.

  Kurt reached behind him for the heavy, iron gate as he turned to the other two terrorists. He pulled until the rusty hinges of the gate shrieked in protest and snapped. A man in a black beret produced a small, lethal-looking Uzi from within his trench coat and aimed at Kurt, a feral sneer peeling back his upper lip and exposing his fangs as he pulled the trigger. The sneer mutated into a grimace of pain as the weapon kicked violently in his hand, once, twice, and then exploded, sending smoking metal fragments slicing through his skin. Kurt changed his target without conscious thought, noting Zho’s humorless chuckle as the screams from the gunman spiraled out of the audible range.

  The woman who had battled Jackie the night before started weaving her way up the dew-slicked stone steps with the confidence of a natural predator. Before she could rcach the edge of the stairwell's entrance, Kurt heaved the wrought-iron gate at her. The points of the ornamental spear tips atop the thrown gate slammed into her, skinning her right ear and piercing her throat, her left breast and left elbow. The force was not enough to stop her, but certainly enough to hurt. She staggered backwards, hissing like a scalded cat, and toppled down the stairs towards the explosives. The fence that stuck awkwardly from her body was ripped free as she bounced off the stairwell's brick wall, the spear-tips on the gate taking with them a large piece of her neck and a sizable fragment of bone from her punctured elbow.

  In seconds she regained her feet and fairly flew up the stairs, her frenzied face a mask of unspeakable rage. He braced himself and let her come forward, punching the small burr on the inside edge of his silver ring into the flesh of his finger and feeling the talisman’s magic activate as it fed on his blood. The Brujah rushed in for the kill, fangs bared and hands outstretched, lunging for Kurt’s throat. Heat flashed through his hand as the Rowan Ring changed, the ornate seed-shape at its front sprouting and growing into a massive barb, a razored tip adorning the end of the nine inch spike that bloomed from the delicately woven silver strands. The woman’s hands clenched at his neck and collar, her canines gleamed in the pale moonlight, and the silver spike on Kurt’s hand rammed straight into her chest, piercing her heart. A sigh of cold, rancid air erupted from the woman’s mouth and wheezed from her punctured throat as well. She fell to the ground, paralyzed, the disguised weapon and its barbs slipping free from Kurt’s bloody hand.

  Kurt turned to the man with the ruined arm, just in time to see Jackie hold him by his hair with his pulped limb forced behind his back, and Ilse used her sorcerous skills to impale him with the gate that had earlier failed to stop Kurt's target. Three had been downed in a matter of seconds, leaving only the most dangerous of the Brujah still standing.

  Kurt pivoted to see the battle continue between the Lupine and the ancient vampire, Appolonius. Both were in a rage, swinging wildly, gnashing their fangs and screaming incoherently. Kurt wondered idly why no guards had shown before remembering that the humans who worked as guards at the Houses of Parliament were long since Blood Bound to the Queen of London. He suspected half the Ventrue of London would be on the scene before much more time had passed.

  Crowley's great Beast, the illusions now completely destroyed, lashed out with a bloodied paw and slammed Appolonius into the ground. Kurt was certain he heard bones break in the assault. Just the same, the Brujah came forward from a crouch, sinking his teeth into the monster’s shoulder, even as his fists pistoncd into the gargantua’s stomach. The creature roared, and Kurt shivered with revulsion. Whatever tortures Crowley had put the monster through had twisted its already damaged psyche beyond repair. It enjoyed the pain Appolonius inflicted, was excited by the carnage it administered in return.

  Despite Appolonius’ reputation and prowess, the end result of the conflict was never really in question. The wolf-thing wrapped its powerful arms around the Brujah elder and squeezed with all its might. Appolonius screamed as his back was broken, and the scream in turn was cut short by the powerful jaws that tore into his throat. The Lupine apparently was poorly kept by Crowley. In a maddened state of rage, it chose the closest target to feed from — the very vampire it held, broken and shattered, within its arms.

  Ilse called out, trying to regain control of Crowley’s Beast, but to no avail. The need to feed was too strong, its wounds too serious for it to ignore. The raw anguish in her voice almost moved Kurt to intervene on her behalf, but common sense and a well-developed instinct for self-preservation prevailed over his need to treat Use as a maiden fair in need of a champion. While it was true that Kurt Westphal was of royal Prussian stock, he had long since set aside any desire to charge mindlessly into battle for the honor of the weaker sex. Or at least he liked to believe he had.

  When the creature had drunk its fill, it dropped its victim to the ground and rained blow after blow on his body, breaking more bones and driving him deeper into the death-like trance caused by massive trauma. When the Lupine was finished with Appolonius, sated at least temporarily, it looked around and sniffed the air, as if searching for more interesting sources of amusement.

  Perhaps old habits died hard in the Beast, it turned towards Jackie and even managed a few steps forward, before Zho intervened. The mage stepped to Jackie’s side, a slight smile again of his face, and stared at the creature. “Say the word, my lady, and the deed is done. I am a man of honor despite my numerous flaws.”

  Jackie too stared at the Beast as it lumbered forward, her face pale and drawn. “Do it! Do it now!"

  “So let it be done.” Zho gestured, speaking in a foul tongue repugnant to Kurt’s ears. Jackie cried out, and Kurt’s attention was drawn to her, his stomach tightening in a spiraling knot of fear. Where he had dreaded a look of terror across her lovely face, he saw instead a feral grin. Her cries were not of anguish, but rather of triumph, and the reason was immediately obvious: where seconds before she had been weaponless, she now held a .357 magnum. She aimed carefully at the creature coming her way and fired.

  Nearly mindless or not, the Lupine moved to avoid the bullets, but slightly too late. A blossom of meat and bone exploded away from its right shoulder, and the creature stopped in its tracks. For one instant the world seemed silent, and then the Beast cut loose with a thunderous howl.

  Jackie prepared to fire again, mumbling to herself about removing the monster's manhood. Use moved first, grappling with Jackie for the pistol. “Leave him alone!” she screamed, her voice strained by anger and shock. “He’s just a poor animal! He can’t control himself!”

  “Get away from me, or I swear I’ll kill you too!" Jackie’s voice cracked too, though for all their intimacy, Kurt could not tell if it was anger, fear or anguish that made her sound the way she did.

  Use sputtered for a moment, her face a study in shock, before turning to rage. “Why? He was harming no one! Crowley’s hold on him was destroyed!"

  Zho pointed to Appolonius on the ground. “No one? Then I should hate to see the mongrel outraged.”
>
  “Because that thing raped me! You find yourself a new pet!" Jackie spat, shrill with rage. “That one’s dead in about three seconds!”

  Use turned away from Jackie’s screams, looking toward the brute behind her. Crowley’s Beast clutched at its shoulder, alternately glaring at Jackie and looking anxiously at Use. Use decided quickly. “Run, damn you! Run away from them! They’ll kill you!”

  Hearing her cries, the creature turned and started across the darkened path leading from Parliament. Jackie flexed and shoved her weight against the Tremere, knocking the woman sprawling. She took aim and fired again and again, pulling the trigger even after the gun’s chambers were all empty. Tears ran down her face, leaving thick black streaks trailing across her heavily painted cheeks. Kurt longed to reach for her, to give her some form of comfort, and more than anything, he wanted to wipe the dirty streaks away and soothe her anguish.

  But he had been rejected twice already and a third time would be more than he could handle. He remained where he was instead.

  Ilse looked from where the Beast had been and then to Jackie above her. Her expression was blank in helpless confusion. Kurt knew that something had happened between her and the Beast, but he did not know just what that magic had done save to make the Lupine listen to Use’s commands. Whatever the case, she apparently felt some connection to the monster, a heavy emotional connection. Kurt stood ready to attack the woman if she even considered hurting Jackie, but his fears were unwarranted. Her anger was apparently for Zho alone, and she appeared incapable of blaming the woman Kurt loved.

  She turned to the mage with a look of hideous, wrenching betrayal on her face. “How could you? Of all the people here, how could you do this to me?”

  “I made a bargain, and I kept it — silver bullets and the gun to fire them in exchange for patience and rational thought.” Zho spoke softly, his words barely audible to Kurt's ears. His voice was distorted by anger or sorrow, Kurt could not tell which. “I am not Paul Carroll, Use. Nor am I Carl Magnuson. I am only Thadius Zho. Either of them would have handled the situation more humanely. Don’t hold your anger at me against your memories of one or the budding affection you hold for the other.”

  Kurt thought back on the first time he met Use, back to the shocked face of the man who stood with her as he came to demand satisfaction for the burns he’d suffered and the humiliation he'd endured after the fish chowder incident. Until Zho had spoken, he'd never noticed the now obvious similarities between the man, Carl Magnuson, and the mage who stood in the shadows. The eye-patch had distracted his attention.

  Ilse cast her head down, studying the dew-damp grass with

  a sudden, passionate intensity. “I—She paused a moment, her face hidden by shadows, but her body language reflecting a painful conflict within. “I must visit Dr. Dee. He must be made aware of all that has transpired tonight.”

  Kurt spoke at last. “Of course, Use. Your clan and the Ventrue as well. There is the potential war to consider, after all. I am glad you thought of this — I have been too distracted.”

  Ilse smiled, a weak faded expression, and nodded her gratitude. Then she turned and walked quickly around the edge of the building. Jackie finally came back from wherever her mind had taken her and dropped the empty pistol on the ground. She looked around for a moment before finally focusing on her attention on her hands.

  After an awkward silence had reigned for several seconds, Zho called out, “Charnas, come forth." With a flash of black smoke and purplish flame, the creature was there, his mouth already opened and doubtless ready to start making comments about the entire situation that would have them all ready to destroy him. “Silence, foul demon. Do not even start with me. You will follow Use Decameron for me, and you will do so discreetly, or I will inflict upon you every torture that could possibly cause harm to you. Do you understand me?”

  Charnas lifted one finger, fully prepared to make his point anyway, then looked deep into his master’s single cold, blue eye and lowered his finger. His face was filled with obvious displeasure. “Very well, ‘master,’ but don’t think for a second that I won’t remember this.” The creature faded from view, a sulking violet shadow that slowly dissipated.

  Zho turned back to Kurt, his face tense and his gestures abrupt and angry. “We’ll meet again tomorrow night. For now, I need to rest, and I need to study what the Fates say of the future. Good night." The mage walked away, leaving Kurt and Jackie alone with each other in a cold, bitter silence that stretched on until Jackie looked over to him and explained that she needed to disarm the explosives. Kurt nodded, leaving her to that task and the task of sorting out her feelings, while he gathered together the defeated Brujah and waited for the Queen of London to arrive.

  Ten minutes later, Lady Anne, Courtland Leighton and a small army of retainers appeared from around the side of the building. Kurt moved away from Jackie and the remains of the Brujah bomb, expertly guiding them to a distant spot. Lady Anne only glanced in the direction of Jackie Therman, but upon hearing the anguished sounds coming from Kurt’s lover, she made certain that no one went too close to the woman. Occasionally, everyone needed time to suffer in peace.

  Ilse cut around the House of Lords towards the Thames. She’d never seen Parliament before, and the remaining mist from Zho’s spell (or the natural fog of the area, Ilse wasn’t sure which) would also aid the rite.

  To her left, she happened upon a darkened stairwell with a shadowy door at the end, almost passing it by, but then turned and started down. Stray pebbles on the old stone steps cut painfully into her bare feet, her other slipper lost during the Beast's ride.

  She hoped...She didn’t know what she hoped. So many things had happened, all so confusing, and it was hard to tell the victims from the villains, if there’d ever been such clear distinctions.

  Brushing at a bloody tear, Ilse took out the Iron Key and cut her thumb until the iron was stained red and dripping. “House of Shadows, House of Mystery, open your door to me, open your door to one of the blood...” The invocation was different each time, because, by its very nature, the charm had to be forgotten, or at least badly remembered. There was nothing so antithetical to the House of Secrets as common knowledge.

  The Iron Key, and its bloody teeth, slipped into the new lock of the ancient door, fitting perfectly, but the Key did not turn.

  Use glanced to either side. She wasn’t quite sure where she was, and no one was looking at her, but...

  The hair stood up on the back of her neck, one of the few human reflexes she had left, and she looked over her shoulder...

  Atop the wall at the head of the shadowy stairwell was Charnas the Imp, perched like a sinister Harlequin doll, one leg crossed over the other.

  The second after she caught sight of him, he clapped his hands to his face with a Macauley Culkin expression of amazement and tipped backwards over the wall.

  A moment later, his head peeked back over the edge, the imp pulling himself up on his fingertips. “No fair, you saw me." He raised himself back up and swung his legs over, flipping them into their former position. “No one’s supposed to see me, unless...” He grinned. “You’ve given me a riddle. I like that. I suppose the answer is one of those Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle things: By the very act of observing, I’ve changed what’s being observed. If I hadn’t been looking, everything would have been fine, but since I did look, it didn’t go the way it would if I hadn’t, and the end result isn’t what you wanted.” He held up one finger like a professor making a point. “You needed secrecy for your charm to work.”

  Ilse pursed her lips, and the imp giggled. “I’m right. I like that too.”

  “What are you doing here, Charnas?”

  The imp uncrossed his legs and started rocking back and forth, kicking his heels like a little boy. “Are you really going to trade the riddle I owe you for something you already know the answer to? Fair’s fair.”

  Use relaxed her face. “You’re spying on me.”

  “A
nd the lady says the secret word!” Charnas exclaimed, then reached behind the wall and pulled out a large raven.

  Quoth the raven, “Spy.”

  He tossed the bird in the air, and it disappeared in a flutter of black wings. “I think that works much better than a duck with a cigar and glasses, don't you.’ A lot more demonic."

  “Why are you spying on me, Charnas?”

  "Why do you think?"

  Use sighed. “Because Thadius Zho asked you to.”

  The imp clapped his hands, but didn’t produce any ravens this time. “Good answer! Good answer! But fair’s fair, like I said, and I owe you the answer to a question. Don’t throw it away, Use. It’s not often you get something from the Devil that you don’t have to pay for afterwards.” His brow puckered. “Isn't there any question you’d like me to answer, truthfully, without any attempt at deception?"

  Use considered. She knew that demons worked from their own dark purposes, but could also be trusted to hold to the letter of their word, especially if it suited their designs. If Charnas truly owed her a straight answer, there was one question she wanted to know, and that the imp should he able to tell her. “Thadius Zho seems very familiar to me. Why is this, exactly?”

  Charnas applauded, the very picture of sardonic delight. “Excellent question! I was afraid you weren’t going to pick up on my hints and I’d have to go through some other elaborate ruse to get around my oaths of secrecy to Zho.” He lounged out on the top of the wall, propping his head up on one arm. “For your one question, you actually get quite a bit, including the answer to many other secrets and mysteries. One is that reincarnation is, in fact, a fact, or at least in your case. You are the reincarnation of a woman named Gwyneth la Salle, nee de la Courte, wife to Tiberius la Salle, who is, in fact, one and the same with Thadius Zho — no reincarnation involved.” The imp grinned, apparently relishing the tale. “Tiberius made a bargain with my greater half, the particulars of which I’m not at liberty to divulge, except in that the price of the bargain was that Tiberius sell his firstborn child and