'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Part 2, Chapter 4

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Qui lashed out like a serpent, gripping Sam's arm before she could open the door, tearing her away and pulling her out of the shop with supernatural strength and speed. He knew one thing very clearly at this moment–if Sam confronted whatever was behind that door, there'd be a second and very likely a third murder on site–and once he was finished with the creature that tore Sam to pieces, he'd have to justify burning the place to the ground to hide the evidence, otherwise forensics would have a field day. Anything less could be catastrophic, and he would never complete his assignment if Prince Jonah expelled him from the city for his foolish risk-taking.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sam exclaimed as Qui released her beside the car. "What's wrong with you? You nearly broke my arm!"

He opened the car door and put his hand on her shoulder, pushing her into the seat. "You don't know what was behind that door," he said. "I couldn't let you go in there."

She looked down at the bruises on her wrist where he'd grabbed her and then back up into his eyes. "Why do I always fall for the crazy ones' bullshit?" she asked, more to herself than to him. "I thought you were different. I thought–"

Now–he had to do it while she was looking at him. He didn't have a choice. Qui stared back into her soft mortal eyes and flexed a mental muscle, pushing an aspect of his psyche into her thoughts. At first it was like fumbling around in the dark–vague perceptions and half-formed images. Kindred from his bloodline weren't naturally gifted with this talent, but his teacher had been very thorough. All it took was a little persistence and within seconds the landscape of her mind was laid open to him. He'd wipe the last few minutes from her memory, leaving events hazy, and then tell her that she'd had a bad fall and they needed to return to the station. 

Then he noticed something he hadn't expected. His mental discipline wasn't powerful enough to delve all that deeply into extended memory, but Sam's recent thoughts during the drive to the murder site betrayed her–she'd witnessed Cranston's monstrous form as the commissioner battled the spy deep underground during their meeting. He couldn't see the event as she remembered it, but her recent mental struggle to suppress the horrific memory was a powerful force. Denial often stood out to him when he was probing someone's mind; he'd never been quite sure why that was. He growled with frustration at his inability to reach back further and pluck the sight from her long term memory. Unfortunately he'd need to deal with fogging over the last few minutes' events and figure out a solution to the Cranston problem at a later date. 

Luckily, Sam seemed to be doing a pretty good job of rationalizing the experience on her own, so it might not be difficult to nudge her in the right direction with a few pointed suggestions.

Qui did his work quickly, not wanting to risk an open confrontation with the creature inside the shop. Creating a false memory was difficult for him, but injuries and trauma were always a useful explanation for a few minutes of missed time. Her brain could reconcile that and heal the mental scarring a lot easier than making sense out of her commissioner being a monster. At least this way she'd still be on his side. 

He felt uncomfortable completing the job for some reason. Was it because Sam had welcomed him so graciously when he arrived at the station? Everyone else had gone out of their way to avoid him, but not her. He'd actually found himself enjoying her company. It was a weakness, one that he would have stamped out immediately when he was younger, but the empty centuries bred loneliness and he'd never settled down for long. The illusion of a close confidant had been enjoyable for a while, but here he was again–as usual–employing his supernatural gifts to betray her trust. 

Try as he might to tell himself that it was for her own good, he knew in the back of his mind that he was just covering his own ass. He'd been right earlier in the car when he told her that everyone was inherently a selfish creature, and that held doubly true for his kind. It was the nature of the Beast, after all.

He left a final suggestion that a brief sleep would be necessary and put her in the front seat of the car. Suggestions like that didn't always take, but it was easier to convince a mind that believed it had suffered a major physical injury that it needed to recover. He had ten to fifteen minutes before she woke up and he'd need to make the most of them.

Qui left his flashlight off this time when he entered the mechanic shop; his eyes were accustomed to the dark and Sam's light had ended up being more of a crutch than a boon during the initial investigation. It was easy enough to make his way to the back door, and he did so with haste, pressing his ear to the hollow wood and listening for any sign of movement. 

He could still sense the bestial presence on the other side. It took a moment to refine his sense of that this being was; the last thing he wanted was to intrude on one of the domain's upper crust mid-meal, but he shook the thought away almost instantly. None of this city's elite Kindred would be invading a murder scene and slinking about in the dark like this. His gut was usually right about these things and he had no reason to doubt himself now. 

The door reacted subtly to his touch, opening in complete silence before he faded from view and drifted into the auto parts warehouse. Moving about in his ghostly form was second nature to Qui by this point in his unlife, and he'd found that all but the most powerful Kindred were incapable of detecting his presence. And yet…somehow the disfigured creature in the room beyond, which had remained still until he approached, twitched as he grew nearer. 

"I told you to be patient," the creature rasped. "The mechanic was asking too many questions and we needed the blood…the blood and the flesh and the soul… yes, the soul as well."

Qui halted in place and remained very still. Even elders sometimes had difficulty pinpointing him when he wasn't moving. If this monster was that powerful, then he was already doomed from the start of this business.

The creature remained silent for several uncomfortable seconds before speaking again. "You're not him," it said simply before turning around and facing the doorway several feet away from his location. Qui was in luck–it must have heard him enter with its preternatural senses, but it wasn't able to see him. "Have we been betrayed by the Blood or are you some foolish meat poking its nose in where it's not wanted?"

The thing smiled as it stood to its full height on long, sinuous legs, a sinister grin brimming with dozens of bone-white teeth filed into sharp points twisted into an impossibly gaping maw. It tapped its long fingernails together and they clanked like sharpened knives, the ominous sound echoing through the still night air. It was completely naked and hairless, genitalia conspicuously absent and replaced by a smooth groin that curved inward at an uncomfortable angle.

Qui closed his eyes for a moment and focused on his other senses, feeling for that bestial presence. He touched it with his mind and it recoiled immediately, but not quickly enough to disguise its nature from his probing. This was no mere abomination, this was a Kindred of sorts–a vampire of the Tzimisce clan, known for their ability to craft flesh into any shape, both their own and that of other beings. They were hideous creatures, capable of atrocities that would make the average Blue Blood recoil with disgust. More often than not, monsters of this lineage were affiliated with a cultish sect of vampires known as the Sabbat, and they'd been at war with Qui's allies in the Camarilla for centuries. What on earth was this thing doing here, so close to the seat of Parliament?

Cranston was right. Prince Jonah was too weak to remain in control.