Tag: delia emmerson

#Lore24 – Entry #289 – Sentinel City by Night #15 – I Want a New Drug

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“At least my time in Sentinel City hasn’t been boring.  Barely a week and a half gone since Dollface was whisked away by Conway’s team to wherever they took her and I’ve already got another “official” case.  Since the last one, I’d learned Conway was actually Sokolova’s childe, so it wasn’t really a surprise when I got the call from the Prince regarding SCPD needing a consult at a murder scene.  Walsh would be waiting for me.

Really hope I’ll get some cases that don’t involve grisly murders one of these nights.  Still, work’s work.

Old Taurus is running like a dream now; hasn’t driven this good in years.  Probably should keep it on a regular maintenance schedule…

Anyway, found the scene pretty easy, nightclub called Paragon on the north end of town, plenty of badges blocking off the scene.  Spotted Emmerson’s car a couple blocks away on my way in, but didn’t see her skulking around outside when I got there.  Could smell the blood in the air soon as I was shown inside by the uniforms on guard; it was thick.  Walsh met me outside the main dance floor where the killings happened, introduced me to the detective in charge on this one from the local precinct, one Grover Blumenthal.  He was on the young side, put me more in the mind of an accountant by the look of him, but at least he wasn’t outright hostile to me coming in on the case.  Guess he hadn’t had time to get jaded, cynical, and territorial yet.  He was also “in the know” as far as my reasons for being there.

The CSIs were hard at work on the dance floor and a few dozen witnesses were being interviewed in another room off to the side.  Dance floor was a bloody mess; doubt a bomb could’ve done it much better.  Just a quick look told me there were at least four victims here based on the number of left hands I counted.  Took a moment to steady myself as I took it all in; all that blood stirred the Beast, made me hungry.  Guess it had been a couple nights since I’d had a proper meal. 

Looked almost like an animal attack; shredded flesh, limbs ripped off, chewed on, blood splattered everywhere.  Several people had been taken to the hospital who had survived the assault.  Suspects escaped, bloody footprints headed toward the emergency exit, disappeared into the night once they hit the wet alley and the steady rain that had been falling since yesterday.  The absolute brutality was impressive; didn’t figure regular humans could pull off something like this without a weapon of some kind.  Ghouls could, perhaps, given enough time to season; a Fiend’s war ghouls could definitely do something like this, but they’d have spooked the crowd before they got too close.  Lupines could also make a scene like this, but they tended to avoid known vampire cities unless they were looking to stir up trouble.  As I asked about witness descriptions of the incident, Blumenthal read off some of his notes; these were young men, sounded like regulars on the club scene, known to spread around recreational drugs when they came out to party; then they freaked out and started tearing people apart.  Descriptions weren’t tracking with a lupine attack; I’m no expert in their ways, but I do know they have a way of fogging mortal memories when they change into their wolf forms.  Handy that.

Wasn’t about to touch these bodies with my second sight.  Level of violence and the horrific deaths they’d suffered meant several sleepless days for me if I did.  Did take some time to look over the scene with my aura perception, though, and it paid off.  Hidden in one of the meat piles was a very faint magical aura.  Went for a look, saw a little red vial mixed in with the gore.  Pulled the detectives over and let the humans catalog the evidence as they would before I had my closer look.  Stuff looked like blood, but it was too bright, too red, almost glowing.  Vial was the kind that slipped into some kind of injector device, which hadn’t been found yet. 

Given the aura on this stuff, I wasn’t sure what to make of it.  Assumed it was some kind of drug, maybe, but I wasn’t about to shoot up with it to find out.  Blumenthal seemed a little more intent on watching me than the scene, and when I asked him about it, he seemed a little embarrassed, said it was the first time he’d ever worked with one of my kind, quickly corrected and said he’d meant a PI.  Smooth cover.  Maybe the kid had potential. 

Speaking quietly so as not to be overhead by anyone who wasn’t clued in on me, I let them know that I’d sensed something supernatural about the vial, the kind of thing that really didn’t need to get out.  Knew somewhere I could get it analyzed, if they’d see me, and figured it was probably the best lead for me to take while they handled the cleanup detail.  Not getting any arguments, I tucked the vial in a Ziploc and then into my coat.  I’d have to go through the proper procedures, might take a couple nights, but it looked like I’d be visiting the Tremere chantry.  That was sure to be an experience.”

#Lore24 – Entry #288 – Sentinel City by Night #14 – Meeting in Elysium

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Few nights later, I finally took Kyou’s offer to meet him in person.  Didn’t know he was a he till I’d met him, not that I could really tell much of a difference even then; looked and sounded just as feminine as any woman.  Don’t usually feel attracted to most people but think I might’ve felt something stirring when I finally met him.  Must have been that Toreador thing they do. 

Turns out, he’s the Elysium keeper in Sentinel City, and a rather famous, if elusive, fetish artist who does a good amount of work with “classy” kink photos and videos, most of it involving living people in various themed shoots and whatever other strangeness that kind of thing entails.  The kink scene isn’t my thing.  Outfits might be sexy sometimes, but I’ve got other things to do with my nights.

When I showed up at the arthouse that was one of the Elysium locations in town, he was in the midst of preparations for a big party.  Must have been a couple dozen humans and ghouls around, all of them in various kinky outfits and states of restraint, forming different living scenes.  Apparently, this was just the practice session before the big thing.  Modern art.  Pfft.

Kyou was very thankful that I’d helped in finding Kinzie, who was surprisingly absent, but Kyou assured me he was “quite secure” and nearby.  Didn’t ask anything else on the matter.  Still, even with my lack of interest in the things going on around me, I found it hard not to enjoy Kyou’s company.  He had a way of being absolutely charming, seemed to know exactly how to make you feel like it was something special just to be around him.  We chatted for a while, shared a little of his “special” vintage wine.  He owed me a huge favor he said.  Never a bad thing to have in this kind of society.  He invited me to his big event, but I didn’t commit to anything; might be good to network a little, but I’ve never been one for social gatherings.

I had more work to do, anyway, so I couldn’t spend too much time with him.  Car was finally in the shop, so I was on foot or relying on public transport for a few nights.  Figured I would be looking in on Emmerson more tonight.  Think our unexpectedly quick capture of Dollface threw a wrench into the narrative she’d been crafting.  Her latest article covering the takedown sounded almost spiteful, hinted at there being a larger cult at work, to expect more killings in the same manner; I’d seen where she’d originally wanted to go with her tale, and was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.  Her mystery source had continued feeding her information about the Kindred, however, and she was shifting her focus.  The fake information I’d been feeding her had muddied the waters, so she wasn’t entirely sure who to believe now. 

That source was proving elusive.  I couldn’t verify any real details about whoever it was; what information I could pull from the email headers was different each time, no doubt using a VPN and other methods to hide their locations.  Couldn’t exactly subpoena the email provider’s records, either, given the sensitivity of the information they were peddling.

I’ll just have to keep an eye on the situation and work it as things develop.  Maybe I can convince Emmerson to cut ties with the source and drop her whole investigation.  Could be pretty simple if I’d ever managed to learn how to control minds, but that just wasn’t in my blood.  Still, got an option to use on her if it comes to it; don’t usually rely on that, but if she pushes things too far, well…”

#Lore24 – Entry #285 – Sentinel City by Night #11 – Frustrating Developments

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Got called into the boss’s office tonight to give an update on the investigation.  Didn’t plan on doing a presentation tonight, pretty sure she wasn’t too pleased with my lack of organization.  My mind works as it does; I have my own system.  Whatever.  She got the info she wanted, seemed happy enough, maybe, once I’d detailed what I’d come up with regarding the killer’s actions and motives. 

Also clued her in on my plan regarding Delia Emmerson.  Showed her copies of the emails the reporter had received thus far and showed her the pushback against her article that had already started as well as some of the false trails I’d started feeding her.  Sokolova seemed pleased with my initiative on the matter, both in trying to keep Emmerson alive while tracing down her source.  Did give me a not-so-subtle warning to prioritize the killer, but to likewise make sure Emmerson didn’t get out of hand.  A little help from her wouldn’t have been amiss, but then again, don’t know her people well enough to really trust them to do the work to my satisfaction.

Whatever.  Just means I’ll not have much in the way of free time for the foreseeable future.  Not that I’d really be doing much else anyway.  What’s a PI without a case to work on?  One this mess was done, I’d start putting out the word I was for hire, start getting a more steady flow of work.  At least Sokolova offered me some compensation for my expenses so far.  Nice of her.

Found a voicemail from Walsh after the meeting that we had another victim go missing last night that seemed to fit the criteria for our mystery killer, another woman named Carly Greer.  I rushed straight from the meeting to meet Walsh at the victim’s apartment, shared by another trio of college kids.  Brakes are starting to squeal on the car now.  Forgot to check on the mechanic.  Better not wait too much longer.  Noted.

Spoke to the roommates; they’d all grabbed some fast food and went to the movies, she’d gone to the bathroom, never came back.  No answer on her cell phone; Walsh had already got the paperwork going for a trace.  I got the address and headed that way while he called his guys on scene to be expecting me.  Surprised me when he handed me a card for a garage and a guy he knew who worked nights.  Guess I’m growing on him.  Imagine that.

Cameras at the movies were a bust, didn’t even have any except those at the concession stand and out front at the ticket office; was one of those places that was older than me, tended to show the classics.  Workers hadn’t paid attention, or at least, didn’t remember seeing her when she came out.  Restrooms were in the middle of the building, behind the concession stands, with doors to access them on either side for each of the two theatres.  Watched one of the workers wheeling out some garbage using one of the emergency exits; turns out that one wasn’t alarmed, led straight out to the alley out back. 

Did my thing with the door this time, got an impression of the victim touching it for just a moment, and someone else.  That someone else made me shiver, however brief the impression was.  Definitely Kindred, shadowy, vague, a ghost in the night.  Like me.  Can’t confirm it with what I managed to get, too many people had touched the door, but suspecting she might even be another Malkavian.  Got just a flash of her from her point of view, think she might’ve been wearing a mask. 

Had to hit the pavement around the theatre, saw several security cameras that might have something useful, but the places were closed and I couldn’t break in with the PD right there, not that I’d want to with the number of cameras around, anyway.  Can’t hide from those, not easily.  Gave the list to the officers on scene for Walsh’s people to deal with getting the footage. 

We had no more than three nights to find Carly Greer intact by my estimates.   Killer kept them alive, probably fed on them, maybe enjoyed the taste of their suffering in the blood.  Speaking of blood, better find a lick myself; starting to feel antsy.”

#Lore24 – Entry #284 – Sentinel City by Night #10 – The Fleshcrafter

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“As I would shortly discover, my revelation that there was a Tzimisce in town wasn’t nearly as surprising as I’d originally thought.  I daresay I might’ve been the only one of my (admittedly limited) circle that didn’t know about her.  Should probably socialize more.  Noted.

Her name is Misha Kyle, works as a “plastic surgeon” in her own upscale business downtown, “Lovely Longevity Limited”, real posh clientele; reckon she’s done work on quite a few famous types, though she mostly deals in humans over Kindred.  She’s got a team that handles the little things while she works the real special jobs like my last victim, where there’s some major rearrangement to be done.  Definitely not your typical Fiend, that’s for damn sure.  Apparently, Sokolova approves of her being here, though she’s not a regular at the community meetings.

I setup a meeting with her to discuss the situation regarding Sidney Clark, and she didn’t even try to wiggle out of it, sounded almost saddened by what happened if I read her right over the phone.  Still, maybe she’s just that good a liar; can’t trust a Fiend, right?  That’s the case on the ones I’ve known over my admittedly short unlife, anyway. 

Kyle wasn’t what I was expecting; she looked normal, for one, her beauty seemingly all natural, even acted like a normal person.  None of that alien-looking bullshit with her.  She didn’t hesitate to fill me in on her backstory; got the impression she’d done it so many times it was second nature when meeting a new Kindred.  Sounded solid, didn’t feel like she was feeding me lies.  Reckon she was involved in that mess down in Atlanta back in ’99, one of the Sabbat shovelheads that survived the whole affair and managed to keep her sanity intact somehow, eventually broke free during the chaos that happened all over the place twenty years back.  Been clawing her way back to some semblance of her humanity since, and says she’s dedicated her abilities to helping those who want it, and those who really needed it at a greatly reduced cost.

Sidney Clark was one of the latter cases.  Girl was driving herself crazy between all the bullshit she’d been fed online and in school and the mental state that had come of it.  Reckon she’d had a come-to-Jesus moment and sought help afterward, and was on the way to a full recovery.  She’d been working with a local shrink on improving her self-image, chief head doctor over at the Edgewater Mental Hospital, Jennifer Tempest, and once she had progressed far enough, Misha was brought in to help with getting her physical appearance to match her evolving mental image.  Seems a real humanitarian but call me skeptical.  I’ve heard things about that flesh-warping magic, can’t confirm it, but rumor is it warps minds too, which is why the Fiends are the way they are.  Course, Kyle seems to be an exception.  Suppose anything’s possible.  Reckon she even attends church on the regular, the one ran by that Malkavian preacher I’ve started hearing about.  Not sure that’s a positive or a negative, honestly; haven’t had time to stop by and introduce myself.

Whatever the case, my initial theory that she was somehow involved in the deaths seems to have been shot down.  Couldn’t detect that she was being dishonest, even her aura seemed genuine, though those dark streaks were concerning, even if they were faded, so if she had sucked a vamp dry, it’s been a while.  If she went through that shit in Atlanta, then maybe she couldn’t exactly prevent it.  Whatever; I’ll keep my eye on her, but I’m willing to give her a chance.  Either way, didn’t learn anything useful about the case.  Won’t say it was wasted time, but I might lean that way. 

Till I can find out more about the killer, I’ll busy myself tracking Emmerson’s source.”

#Lore24 – Entry #283 – Sentinel City by Night #9 – Another Victim, Another Clue

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“It was a handful of nights later, after I’d hired a Chinese botnet to start the blowback campaign against Emmerson’s article and begun contacting her myself in the guise of a trio of new sources that were emboldened to tell their tales after reading her article to start the feed of misinformation that I got word that another body had been found with the same MO.  As soon as I got Walsh’s call, I rushed to meet PD at the scene, pushing my Taurus as hard as it could stand; not sure what that grinding sound is, or the wobble when I get up to speed.  Really have to get a mechanic to take a look at that; should probably ask Becky if she knows a good one that works late hours and won’t charge an arm and a leg. 

Think Walsh is starting to warm up to me, or he was just too tired to fire up the hatred tonight.  He looked strung out.  Anyway, this was another dump near the Red Light District.  It had occurred to me that with the many waterways in the city, and its proximity to the Great Lakes, there were plenty of better spots to dump a body.  That could indicate that maybe some part of the killer’s psyche was crying out to be stopped, or that the body disposal was simply an afterthought.

Either way, everything tracked with this being another victim and not a copycat, in spite of Emmerson’s article.  This victim, Sidney Clark, hadn’t been reported missing, however, and this was definitely sooner than the previously established timeline had indicated.  The killer was escalating, though I couldn’t say it had anything to do with the article or not; the timing didn’t seem to track.  As I examined the body, Emmerson showed up and had another confrontation with Walsh, this one rather heated.  She kept trying to draw me into the matter, but I ignored her attempts to speak to me.  I had plenty of lines of communication open with her already, didn’t need a face to face.

It was when I examined the victim’s ID to see where they lived that I made a most curious observation.  Though I couldn’t know what her face had looked like before it was removed, her ID showed a woman who was not up to standards for the killer’s appetites.  She looked to have been severely overweight, the deep scowl on her plump, pitted face only marginally distracted from by her bright green and red hair dye and side-shaved cut.  The body couldn’t have been even half the weight listed, even before the pieces were removed.  The ID was barely more than a year and a half old based on the date on it.  Did we have the wrong ID?  Was there perhaps another victim with whom the IDs had been switched?

I knew what I had to do, however much I disliked using that particular ability on a corpse.  Call me old-fashioned, but using my heightened perception to read the psychic echoes on a dead body seemed a bit too invasive, not to mention that it always left my skin crawling for days, even gave me daymares.  Might have been a little selfish of me, but it’s why I hadn’t done so before and had kept to the evidence and proper investigatory techniques till now.  Still, things had escalated to the point that I suppose I had little choice but to give it a try.

I waited for Walsh to shoo Emmerson off before I showed him the discrepancy between the ID and body, then told him that I needed a few minutes alone with the victim.  When he asked what I had planned, I simply told him it was better if he didn’t know the particulars.  Though skeptical, he obliged and pulled his people back.  Once I had readied myself, I removed my gloves and touched the body, peering into its past.

I saw flashes of the victim’s last moments, felt the echoes of the violence she had suffered, saw only a brief impression of the killer themselves, a cold, doll-like face smeared with blood, fangs gleaming as they wielded the scalpel.  Then a much clearer image emerged, one that wasn’t nearly as horrible, though perhaps even more confusing.  I clearly saw a red-headed woman, kind and energetic, showing the victim a computer-generated image of another beautiful woman, a sense of elation and happiness, contentment.  Then there was a sensation of awakening from a deep slumber, of peering into a mirror, the victim seeing the image of the woman that had been on the screen.  As I pulled myself out of the psychic vision, stumbling back as the connection was broken, I realized what it was I had witnessed, why the victim’s ID didn’t match her current appearance.

The red-headed woman had flesh-crafted her!  The red-head was a Tzimisce!”

#Lore24 – Entry #282 – Sentinel City by Night #8 – The Fine Art of Discreditation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“It was easy enough to find Emmerson’s apartment; she didn’t seem to be worried about being followed, not that she would have noticed me anyway.  I lingered outside for some time after she had returned, waited until she had bedded down for the night before I slipped in and had a look around.  Security on her computer was easy to crack, simple logon screen bypass trick I’ve used hundreds of times. 

My hunch had been a good one.  The story that got printed was the watered-down version of the original she’d written which had included some very specific details about a particular vampiric bloodline that must consume flesh instead of blood.  I had dismissed that possibility early on as unlikely, though seeing the notes Emmerson had on the matter made me reconsider the possibility that a rare Nagaraja had come to town, but only briefly.  From what I knew of them, they did ritualistically preserve corpses to maintain a ready food supply, but they wouldn’t keep so little of the flesh and discard the vast majority of it; why waste perfectly good food, after all? 

Diving further into her files revealed that she had been communicating with an unknown contact who had provided that information to her.  I noted the email address, but it was likely a burner account, given the random nature of the username.  Still, the contact with the mysterious source had began sometime after the second victim, and their information had only grown more concise and revealing as further emails had come in.  There were promises of more information to come regarding the “vampiric conspiracy” to rule the city, with mention of an entire council of vampires already being established. 

Without checking Emmerson’s office system for more data, which seemed unlikely, I couldn’t be sure if she might’ve known more already or not.  My instincts told me to just get rid of her now and be done with it, but Sokolova’s command to save killing her as a last resort still stood.  I’d need to track her source down, too, and that would take more time.  So, I resolved to take a different tactic with her.  After I had setup some backdoor access to her system and returned everything to the state I’d found it, I departed with the snoring human completely unaware of my presence, already planning how I’d go about discrediting her work and ruining her reputation.  Not the first time I’d had to do this kind of thing; I’d developed something of a talent for it over the last twenty years.”

#Lore24 – Entry #281 – Sentinel City by Night #7 – Escalation

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Apartment acquired, work area set up, progress made.  I’ve been studying all the notes and crime scene reports, coming up with a proper profile for the serial killer.  The time between the victims would seem to indicate a compulsive need that slowly builds over approximately a month that finally overtakes the killer, forcing them to act, though the fact that the killer keeps the victims alive for some amount of time before they are finally slain would imply a more contemplative mindset.  The lack of commonality amongst the victims, in appearance, lifestyle, background, and locations of residence would indicate that they are selected at random, seemingly when their features trigger a particular preference in the killer’s mind.  The collection of additional sections of the victim’s flesh beyond simply skinning their heads could indicate a ritual of some kind, or perhaps even a cannibalistic need to feed upon the flesh.  There are certain details that are contradictory based on the data I have so far, which may indicate some form of madness in the killer beyond what drives them to kill in the first place.  The lack of evidence thus far in actually obtaining details about how the killer captures the victims could indicate an ability to instill trust in the victims, some way to diminish mental capacity through drugs, or some kind of supernatural compulsion that is not entirely uncommon amongst the Kindred and any number of other supernatural creatures.

As I continued to contemplate the data I had, I received a text from Rebecca Dodgers, linking me to one of the local news sites, and an article recently posted by none other than Delia Emmerson.  Troubling was one word for it.  The article proclaimed “Vampiric Serial Killer Loose in Sentinel City!  SCPD Baffled!”  It was topped by a photo of the most recent crime scene, taken before I arrived and from a distance, though there would be other images, even if they were blurred out, taken from the police files themselves, and from the scene I’d been at; thankfully she didn’t catch me in them, at least the ones she posted, anyway.  She’d leaked a lot of details the police had been keeping under wraps, namely the specifics about what damage the victims had incurred, and the theory that someone was ritualistically sacrificing these people in the name of some vampire cult.  Though the headline definitely made it seem more damning, she at least hadn’t outright proven Kindred involvement, though the accusations were close enough.  Most of her fire was directed at the SCPD, though, for being incompetent and dragging their feet while failing to inform the people of the danger lurking on the streets.  She did mention a private investigator being brought in on the case as the PD couldn’t handle the job themselves while questioning whether the FBI had even been contacted.

I’d barely finished my read through when my phone rang.  It was Sokolova.  She wasn’t happy.  Don’t know what she was expecting; I had only been in town a few days; not like I could magically find the killer.  Wasn’t bold enough to ask if she’d consulted the Tremere chantry about divination on the case, but the thought did cross my mind.  Admittedly I may have been too hyper-focused on studying the killer instead of dealing with the media problem I knew about. 

I was tasked with seeing to Emmerson in addition to finding the killer.  She was adamant that I not simply kill Emmerson if it could be helped, that she should be dissuaded from her current course of investigation, and any sources she may have had found out.  Other Princes would have had the human killed without a second thought, but I suppose her vision of a city where humans and vampires got along came first.  Some would call that a weakness.

Without any additional clues to consider for the moment, I resolved to see what I could do about Emmerson and find out what she knew and from what other sources than the PD’s files.  None of that vampiric cult ritual stuff had come from them, and I got the impression she had to leave some details out because they would have been too far out for the average reader to process.  Fortunately, I’m good at getting into places I shouldn’t go.”

#Lore24 – Entry #280 – Sentinel City by Night #6 – The Rough Part of Town

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Nothing was clicking into place.  I’d been to three of the four previous body dump sites, and I had no new revelations or insights into the killer’s nature, to say nothing of their identity.  Granted, it had only been a day, but still. 

Tonight, I’d started out immediately for the last of the sites, the second in the chain of killings, the Steel Shark Tavern, a bar on the far side of Sentinel City that tended toward the biker crowd.  Was feeling antsy tonight, realized halfway there that I needed to grab something to sate my thirst soon.  Sometimes forget to feed when I get absorbed in a case.  Careless of me, maybe dangerous.  Will get it taken care of.

No sooner had I pulled into the parking lot of the location did I see a body go flying through the front door.  It was that kind of place.  I could hear the shouts and sounds of fighting inside over the music.  The guy who had been tossed out got to his feet and reset his jaw, then headed back inside after pulling a knife.  Sure enough, as he disappeared into the doorway, I saw the distinct aura that revealed him as a ghoul.  Wondering what mess I’d just become witness to, I checked my gun to make sure it was loaded.  I tended not to use the little Smith & Wesson .38 often, but better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it, right?

The ghoul was back outside in a heap a moment later, another biker, also a ghoul, sprawled on top of him, the first ghoul’s knife stuck into the second’s back, though not fatally.  The door flew open again, this time with a mountain of a woman charging out, two more ghouls firmly held in her huge arms.  She roared, tossing them into the growing pile of leather-clad ghoulish bikers, and stepped out of the way as a fifth ghoul was shoved out by another woman, smaller than the first, but still no stranger to a brawl judging by the way she handled herself and her victim. 

Didn’t escape me that these two were full-blown vampires, either.  The pack of ghouls surged toward the pair, the one plucking his knife out of his companion on the way.  The two women fought together as if they’d done it for ages, probably had for all I knew, covering each other and fighting almost as one.  The mountainous red-head was all about power, like a charging bull or a rhino, while the pink-haired one was all about finesse and technique, moving like a big predatory cat.  I had decided just to stay in the car for now; no sense getting involved in a mess like that if I didn’t need to.

The two vamps made quick work of the ghoul gang, breaking no few bones as they fended off the ravenous bunch and quickly forced them to retreat to their bikes, their limited reserves of their master’s blood having been spent.  With the busted up ghouls on the retreat, I finally stepped out of my car and approached the two vampires, who were busy jeering and taunting the fleeing gang.  They both whipped around on me in an instant, sensing my presence, still pumped up and ready for a fight.  I quickly introduced myself and complimented their display, though they were anything but impressed.  I noted that the pink-haired woman, who would eventually introduce herself as Catherine Ramos, had peculiar eyes, yellow and reminiscent of a feline’s, which she quickly covered with a pair of shades, her hair generally wild, almost like a lion’s mane, while her companion, Anita Winters, had less obvious animalistic features but for her larger build and perhaps a discoloration and peculiar pebbling of her skin not unlike the thick hide of the rhino I had compared her to previously.

Though our conversation was not the most civil, I would nonetheless join them for a drink in the bar, once they’d had their adulations for tossing out the gang, of course.  I had been looking for a meal tonight anyway, so why not?  They were working for Grim Jacobs as his Hounds, and were likewise of clan Gangrel, as I had already surmised.  The bikers they’d tossed out weren’t locals, were likely Sabbat, so they said.  Catherine swore they had the stink of Lasombra blood in them but wouldn’t give me more details as to how she knew that, though I sensed something deeper behind her obvious distaste, outright hatred of whoever she had in mind.

I informed them of my reasons for visiting the Shark this night, but they had little in the way of useful information for me.  They weren’t around when the body had been dumped, said they usually kept troublemakers in check, hadn’t noticed any suspicious types around till the ghouls had picked a fight tonight.  Got the impression they didn’t much care for me, and even less so once they had learned of my own bloodline.  Not the first time I’d experienced such mistrust, certainly wouldn’t be the last.  Not that I cared, really; everyone had their prejudices, and my clan certainly had a reputation.  I think I’m rather a positive example personally, but that is neither here nor there.

Still, after I had excused myself, I surveyed the dump site, and then left the bar; I had managed to secure a proper apartment and would be moving in tonight.  If I had time, I would see about paying Delia Emmerson a visit, though I suspected I would be far too busy with arranging my case notes tonight.  Priorities and all that.”

#Lore24 – Entry #279 – Sentinel City by Night #5 – Previous Victims

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“My reception at the SCPD precinct was about as cold as the nights were getting this time of year, at least in Walsh’s office.  No judgement here, I was just there on business, after all.  They had identified the victim, Andrew Vance, a local, manager for some local tech company, reported missing less than a week ago when he didn’t show up for work on Monday morning.  Minor drug offenses on record from his college days, but otherwise clean.  Coroner confirmed pretty much everything I’d picked up at the scene regarding injuries, though blood tests were still pending.  If it was a vampire at work, I doubt they’d find any kind of chemical restraints used; we had other ways of making humans compliant, after all.  He had a brother and parents still in Sentinel City, but they weren’t relevant at this point.

Walsh left me alone to review the previous victims they’d tied to this killer in a private room, out of sight of the rest of the team.  Fine with me; I enjoy my solitude.  So far there were four other victims, two male (Zak Harrison, Jamal Beck), two female (Eliza Stewart, Gwen Weber), all local residents, all in their mid to late twenties, and the killings had started about half a year ago.  Aside from age, they seemed to have little in common.  All were from different parts of the city, different social classes and social circles, no common background elements aside from having lived in SC most of their lives, if not all of them.  Couldn’t even see that their paths had crossed at any of their jobs or during school. 

Only thing that stood out as far as common to them all was their general appearance.  All could have been considered “above average” to “gorgeous” on the appearance scale.  Given that two victims were white, one black, and one Hispanic, with differing hair and eye colors, at this point I could only assume something about their faces had drawn the attention of the killer.  All had been slain similarly to the latest victim, had had their faces and scalps peeled, along with certain other patches of flesh.  Ritual killings could be a possibility, though I’d have to delve deeper into the occult to figure on what dark being had this particular taste in sacrifice. 

My gut said it wasn’t occult, though.  No, this killer was keeping some grisly trophies, had to be.  Operating on some kind of compulsion, perhaps, and given the rough timetable, the killings were roughly monthly.  Could fit.  Bodies had all been dumped in varying places throughout town, most around Walsh’s precinct, so that could indicate either proximity or simply a favored dumping ground, likely due to the Red Light District and all the crime that goes on there.  More likely to get lost in the mix of dead hookers and drug overdoses, even with the grisly nature of the slayings.  Maybe.  Maybe not.

I happened to be standing on the far side of the door with the case notes spread out on the table when the door opened, and someone poked their head in.  I tended to reflexively obscure myself, so the intruder hadn’t noticed me.  Though dressed as a janitor, even pushing the mop bucket along, I instantly recognized Delia Emmerson beneath her layers of makeup that might have actually fooled your average joe.  Dedicated and crafty, would possibly make a fine investigator if she wasn’t looking for fame.  Slipping inside, likely assuming that whoever had been looking over the case files had stepped out, she slipped her phone out of her coverall and started snapping pictures. 

I contemplated stopping her right then and there, but I still had to learn what she knew of the Kindred first, and didn’t need the PD ransacking her home following an arrest.  With what was on display, there wasn’t anything that would obviously harm the Masquerade; it was all standard reports on the victims.  Could her reporting cause trouble on this investigation?  Maybe, maybe not.  If a Kindred, the killer likely wouldn’t be dissuaded with a mere mortal reporting on their activities.  Taking a chance, I let Delia finish her work and slip out without alerting anyone, resolving to hunt her down and see what she really knew as soon as I had the chance. 

For now, though, my task of hunting the killer took priority, so I made a quick review of all the files and closed them up, returned them to Walsh and made my exit.  I decided to visit the previous dump locations as I contemplated the facts I had.  Maybe something would click into place.”

#Lore24 – Entry #277 – Sentinel City by Night #3 – On the Job

From the Journal of Sheba O’Rourke, Private Investigator

“Took me longer to reach the crime scene than I’d hoped; haven’t had time to learn the streets in Sentinel City yet, and the old Taurus didn’t weather the trip from the West Coast as well as I’d hoped.  Will have to get that looked at soon.

Found the scene easily enough once I’d reached the Red Light District, they still had the streets cordoned off, plenty of officers buzzing around, lots of onlookers in spite of the dropping temperatures and coming rains.  Remembered to grab my coat at least this time; wasn’t quite cold enough that I’d notice it, but the humans might have, especially the detectives.  I was expected, not exactly warmly, maybe, but quickly ushered to the body, where I met Walsh. 

I could tell he was skeptical; who wouldn’t be, after all?  I’d been in the city less than a day, after all, and I got the impression those who knew of my nature, like him, didn’t trust the Kindred.  How could they?  I wouldn’t trust someone who fed on my kind either.  Probably didn’t even know about us till Sokolova started her grand vision a couple years back, though.  Still, work to do, killers to find. 

Got the impression Walsh had seen some dark shit already, and I figured he wasn’t even out of his thirties yet.  Looked stressed, especially around his eyes, maybe graying a little prematurely, didn’t look in the mood for small talk.  Introduced myself quickly, he nodded, we didn’t shake hands.  Body looked like a quick dump job, tossed in between some dumpsters.  Walsh didn’t volunteer any information, so I took in the scene for myself.  Walsh and his buddies got a laugh out of my cassette recorder as I took my audio notes.  Old habits die hard; need to get a digital recorder at least, tapes are getting harder to find.  Still don’t’ like those smartphones; hard to use when you don’t have blood pumping through your veins and can’t leave a fingerprint to access them; old Nokia still works well enough, though, gets the job done, anyway.

Victim was male, likely mid to late twenties, upper body disrobed and showing obvious signs of extreme torture, flesh missing in several spots along torso.  Unidentifiable as his face and scalp had been removed, peeled, possibly intact, no ID on the body. Ligature marks on wrists, ankles, and waist.  Old scarring in other places, likely a whip or severe flogging, fetish-related, piercings in his nipples still in place in spite of multiple fresh lacerations to torso; lower body covered by leather pants and wearing combat boots, some blood stains, but no signs of having been removed and redressed.  Little blood at dump site.  No obvious bite marks, but definitely drained, likely through the wounds, since there was little in the way of blood to pool in the body.  Figure it had been there at least a day. 

Noticed an ink stamp on his right hand, looked like some kind of spider superimposed over a web that looked like some kind of circuitry pattern, still clearly visible.  When I asked, Walsh said it was from a club not too far from the site, called the Cyber Spider, raver hangout with some heavy kink on the side for good measure.  He pretty much spit it at me; it’s a hangout for Kindred, ran by one as I’d soon discover.  Wasn’t much else of use at the scene as far as I was concerned, other minor details are in my case notes, at any rate.

As I was about to ask Walsh about prior victims, we got some unexpected camera flashes.  Local media had shown up asking about the killing.  From the heated conversation between her and Walsh, they were well-acquainted.  Delia Emmerson was her name, worked for one of the tabloids; figure she was too far on the edge to be a legit corpo reporter.  I figured I would undoubtedly cross paths with her again, because she asked specifically if this was another “blood sucker” killing.  Will deal with her later on, though, after I had a chance to learn what she knew about us vampires; had other leads to look into for now.  As I slipped away, heard her asking Walsh about his new partner, but nobody had noticed that I’d gone till they turned their attention back to where I had just been. 

I had a club to visit, even if I wasn’t dressed for the crowd.”