Nocturne No. 4: California Warning
General Summary
San Francisco, CA
Jan. 2, 1995
She was waiting for me in the corner of my office, draped across the armchair in a sleek green party dress with a polite splash of blood near the neckline. I swore I'd locked the door, but I wouldn't hold it against myself to forget: Frank had fallen off the wagon over the holidays, so I'd been enjoying plenty of drinks at the bar to get that sweet taste of whiskey and melancholy. "Must be important if you couldn't wait till Elysium to share," I remarked, sauntering over to my desk. "Not that I mind our private rendezvous, but you rarely get me alone for some good news." "It's about Los Angeles," Thelma said, sitting up in her chair. I'd seen her smile and laugh her way through San Francisco countless times over, but her expression tonight would've stopped a clown mid-laugh. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors by now?" I shrugged while I lit up a cigarette, the smoke filling the room while the carcinogens searched in vain for a victim. "Word is that our Platinum friend finally made a move against Garcia, pinning his Anarchs down in some suburb on the edge of town. That Seneschal of hers died in the fight, I guess all our luck runs out after a couple centuries." Something about that remark got her standing, sashaying across the room to pluck the cigarette out of my mouth. She didn't leave me empty-handed at least, sliding a gorgeous manila folder across the desk in exchange for my cancer stick. "LA's Prince believes a Toreador named the Folk Singer killed her," Thelma explained while I pored through all the pictures and notes in the folder, months of gossip collected from Elysiums up and down the west coast. "He's been traveling around the world embracing duskborn, something about 'injecting new blood' into the Ivory Tower. It seems like the next step of that plan involved killing off the older kindred." I shook my head at the news, still scanning the pictures for any clues that would explain why a Toreador would go rogue like this. "My first thought was Sabbat, but I'm not seeing any mention of them in these notes so he must not have any connections to all the loonies out in Portland. What's the working theory?" Thelma finished off the cigarette and plucked another from my pack, maybe it was the Blush of Life but she glowed beneath the smoky light cast by my desk lamp. "You know I left religion behind before I was even embraced, but I can't help shaking the prophecies I heard some Noddists ranting about last year. The thin-bloods are harbingers of some bad times, and seeing how the west coast if falling into turmoil these last couple years has me thinking they might be on to something." "I'll do what I can to find this Singer and his thin-bloods, I may need to call in some favors with the Justicars but he won't be getting far." I saw no reaction in Thelma's face save for a slight nod, she was fast approaching the end of her second cigarette and moving towards a third. "Who are the other people in this folder? A Malkavian, Banu Haqim, and nagaraja, sounds like the setup for a bad joke." "Those are the three kindred last spotted with the Seneschal before she was killed by the Folk Singer and his thin-bloods. Maybe they're victims, maybe they're conspirators, they haven't been seen since the incident and the Platinum Blonde wants to know where they are. If they're not turned to ash by now their testimony could be useful." "The Malk will be a tough one to pin down, but I might know some Puttanescas who could rat out the nagaraja with the right kind of persuasion." I paused on the picture of the Banu Haqim, she was playing to a raucous crowd of punks in a picture dated a couple years ago. The younger licks in town would've called her 'hot'. "Isn't this Cesca's old plaything? Maybe asking her will help us find out where this one ended up." "Cesca declared praxis in Las Vegas at the New Year's Eve Party," Thelma replied. "I'll be headed towards the Rockies this year to check on the Anarch colonies, so I can swing through Vegas if you need me to do any sleuthing." "It might be our best lead," I noted, pulling open a drawer and skimming through my personal collection of manila folders until I found my files on the Portland Camarilla. "I heard Portland's Sheriff fled the city days before it fell to the Sabbat, she's not here and she's not in Seattle so maybe she's out in Vegas for a job with Cesca? We both know there aren't many children of Haqim out here, so maybe she's hoping for a reunion with a possible childe while she's out there." For the first time all night a genuine smile flickered across Thelma's face, a beam of light piercing through the smoke and shadows of the room. "I knew I could count on you to piece things together. You stay safe with your investigating, some days it feels like you're the only responsible person in all of San Francisco." I shrugged, the Sheriff certainly couldn't be bragging about their work but my half-century on the job spoke for itself. "Give the Cam some credit: The Viceroy shows his age, but he's the only Prince this city will ever need. Sure I have to brush up on my Spanish more than I'd like, but it sure beats having somebody like Lucas in charge." Thelma laughed at that, and I put a hand on her waist as she leaned down for another cigarette. "Where are you headed after this? I'm sure Frank's still at the bar if you want a drink or two, that holiday melancholy only lasts so long." This radiant herald of the west smiled at me with beatific warmth, a spark of light in the cold fogs of San Francisco. She leaned in for a kiss, her lips glossy with makeup and blood, only to blow a wave of cigarette smoke straight into my face. "A herald's work is never over," She explained, waltzing away from my desk as she made her way towards the door. "I need to find a way to swing through Seattle by the end of the week, and after that I'll start my road trip through the Rockies. Save me a pack and maybe we can get some drinks next time I'm in town." The door clicked shut before I had a chance to reply, leaving me with nothing but some smoke and folders to keep me company. I should've gotten used to this dance after a quarter-century, but every year she always returned to town with new surprises and mysteries. I guess I'd have Frank and the missing kindred to keep me company in the meantime, the nights go by fast when there's a mystery to unravel. The sun would return someday.
Jan. 2, 1995
She was waiting for me in the corner of my office, draped across the armchair in a sleek green party dress with a polite splash of blood near the neckline. I swore I'd locked the door, but I wouldn't hold it against myself to forget: Frank had fallen off the wagon over the holidays, so I'd been enjoying plenty of drinks at the bar to get that sweet taste of whiskey and melancholy. "Must be important if you couldn't wait till Elysium to share," I remarked, sauntering over to my desk. "Not that I mind our private rendezvous, but you rarely get me alone for some good news." "It's about Los Angeles," Thelma said, sitting up in her chair. I'd seen her smile and laugh her way through San Francisco countless times over, but her expression tonight would've stopped a clown mid-laugh. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors by now?" I shrugged while I lit up a cigarette, the smoke filling the room while the carcinogens searched in vain for a victim. "Word is that our Platinum friend finally made a move against Garcia, pinning his Anarchs down in some suburb on the edge of town. That Seneschal of hers died in the fight, I guess all our luck runs out after a couple centuries." Something about that remark got her standing, sashaying across the room to pluck the cigarette out of my mouth. She didn't leave me empty-handed at least, sliding a gorgeous manila folder across the desk in exchange for my cancer stick. "LA's Prince believes a Toreador named the Folk Singer killed her," Thelma explained while I pored through all the pictures and notes in the folder, months of gossip collected from Elysiums up and down the west coast. "He's been traveling around the world embracing duskborn, something about 'injecting new blood' into the Ivory Tower. It seems like the next step of that plan involved killing off the older kindred." I shook my head at the news, still scanning the pictures for any clues that would explain why a Toreador would go rogue like this. "My first thought was Sabbat, but I'm not seeing any mention of them in these notes so he must not have any connections to all the loonies out in Portland. What's the working theory?" Thelma finished off the cigarette and plucked another from my pack, maybe it was the Blush of Life but she glowed beneath the smoky light cast by my desk lamp. "You know I left religion behind before I was even embraced, but I can't help shaking the prophecies I heard some Noddists ranting about last year. The thin-bloods are harbingers of some bad times, and seeing how the west coast if falling into turmoil these last couple years has me thinking they might be on to something." "I'll do what I can to find this Singer and his thin-bloods, I may need to call in some favors with the Justicars but he won't be getting far." I saw no reaction in Thelma's face save for a slight nod, she was fast approaching the end of her second cigarette and moving towards a third. "Who are the other people in this folder? A Malkavian, Banu Haqim, and nagaraja, sounds like the setup for a bad joke." "Those are the three kindred last spotted with the Seneschal before she was killed by the Folk Singer and his thin-bloods. Maybe they're victims, maybe they're conspirators, they haven't been seen since the incident and the Platinum Blonde wants to know where they are. If they're not turned to ash by now their testimony could be useful." "The Malk will be a tough one to pin down, but I might know some Puttanescas who could rat out the nagaraja with the right kind of persuasion." I paused on the picture of the Banu Haqim, she was playing to a raucous crowd of punks in a picture dated a couple years ago. The younger licks in town would've called her 'hot'. "Isn't this Cesca's old plaything? Maybe asking her will help us find out where this one ended up." "Cesca declared praxis in Las Vegas at the New Year's Eve Party," Thelma replied. "I'll be headed towards the Rockies this year to check on the Anarch colonies, so I can swing through Vegas if you need me to do any sleuthing." "It might be our best lead," I noted, pulling open a drawer and skimming through my personal collection of manila folders until I found my files on the Portland Camarilla. "I heard Portland's Sheriff fled the city days before it fell to the Sabbat, she's not here and she's not in Seattle so maybe she's out in Vegas for a job with Cesca? We both know there aren't many children of Haqim out here, so maybe she's hoping for a reunion with a possible childe while she's out there." For the first time all night a genuine smile flickered across Thelma's face, a beam of light piercing through the smoke and shadows of the room. "I knew I could count on you to piece things together. You stay safe with your investigating, some days it feels like you're the only responsible person in all of San Francisco." I shrugged, the Sheriff certainly couldn't be bragging about their work but my half-century on the job spoke for itself. "Give the Cam some credit: The Viceroy shows his age, but he's the only Prince this city will ever need. Sure I have to brush up on my Spanish more than I'd like, but it sure beats having somebody like Lucas in charge." Thelma laughed at that, and I put a hand on her waist as she leaned down for another cigarette. "Where are you headed after this? I'm sure Frank's still at the bar if you want a drink or two, that holiday melancholy only lasts so long." This radiant herald of the west smiled at me with beatific warmth, a spark of light in the cold fogs of San Francisco. She leaned in for a kiss, her lips glossy with makeup and blood, only to blow a wave of cigarette smoke straight into my face. "A herald's work is never over," She explained, waltzing away from my desk as she made her way towards the door. "I need to find a way to swing through Seattle by the end of the week, and after that I'll start my road trip through the Rockies. Save me a pack and maybe we can get some drinks next time I'm in town." The door clicked shut before I had a chance to reply, leaving me with nothing but some smoke and folders to keep me company. I should've gotten used to this dance after a quarter-century, but every year she always returned to town with new surprises and mysteries. I guess I'd have Frank and the missing kindred to keep me company in the meantime, the nights go by fast when there's a mystery to unravel. The sun would return someday.
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24 Oct 2023
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