'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Chapter 10

[Please note this is not an official World of Darkness licensed product. All chapters within this setting will be available free of charge and will never be behind a paywall.]

For previous chapters in one place, visit the collections tab. New chapters on Mondays!

[I'll be taking a short break for the next week to celebrate the holidays. Regular postings of Qui's story will resume on Monday, January the 6th. Werewolves: The Gravediggers will resume on January the 3rd.]

Qui stormed through the Elysium hallways, mind racing as he committed Jonah's personal tics and paranoias to memory. "Neither of you prepared me for that," he said to Arundel when he was sure they were out of hearing range. "He knows my name. My reputation. This is going to make things much more difficult." He looked over the railing at the bustling Elysium. "I was led to believe that his influence was waning."

"It's all bluster," Arundel said. "Jonah's claims of influence are over-inflated. His successful inquest into your background was more likely a bit of luck, not skill. He was right when he said that your chosen name begs the question, though. Why ever did you choose it in the first place?"

Qui shook his head and stopped by the railing, leaning forward as he watched the servants and neonates congregate on the floor below. "It's the only word I ever heard my sire say," he said. "He was Embracing mortals into his army to take Boston back from the Ventrue. I was left in darkness for over a week with no understanding of what I was—a shock troop to be used and disposed of." 

"Sounds like Sabbat," Arundel said. He leaned on the railing beside Qui. "Was your sire antitribu?"

"Not that I'm aware," Qui replied. "The Camarilla wasn't the same in the New World as it was back in Europe at the time. They weren't so much an organization as they were warring tribes—and they didn't fight with politics. They left trails of death scattered in every direction their civilization spread. The Sabbat were able to hide in plain sight because, at the time, there was little difference between the factions."

Arundel raised an eyebrow. "Some might call those words treason."

"And others know their history."

"Touché."

Qui grinned. Even after the incident on the way in, he couldn't help liking this man. He decided to tell the rest of his story. "One night I awoke to find another vampire in the basement with me," he said. "I'd never met him before and he kept to himself. I barely knew what I was at the time and I was too afraid to ask questions. When my sire opened the door to finally let me out, he saw the stranger. That's when I heard him speak for the first time—a rumbling gurgle of a word."

"Qui?" Arundel prompted.

"Qui. A second later, my new cellmate blew my sire's head off with a pistol and fled out into the night. I never saw him again."

"A pistol took down a Nosferatu?"

Qui shook his head. "Some kind of incendiary charge. And he'd been at war—for all I knew, he was hurt already. Maybe that's why he came to get me, to replace him on the front lines."

"So you chose to immortalize that moment?" Arundel asked. "It's almost…romantic in a way. Finding your new name in the final question of a twice-dead man."

"I suppose you could see it that way." Qui pushed himself back off the banister and started walking again. They passed by a cluster of serving women; he thought they were the same ones he'd seen before.

Arundel stopped beside them and singled one out of the group. "Nadia, darling," he said. "You're needed in the ballroom."

The girl went off without a word. Qui made a note of the Prince's choice. Knowing a vampire's favored blood doll could be advantageous at times. Food was rarely just food to the upper crust of Kindred society. 

"I'm glad you accompanied me on this meeting," Qui said as they took the stairs down to the lobby. "Where can I drop you off?"

"Oh, no need." Arundel gestured toward one of the waiters. The man gave him a sharp nod and hustled away. "I'm famished and one of my favorite dolls works here tonight. The poor boy is the black sheep of his house, but he's born of very old money. Being cast out didn't change the way he tastes, but it did make him easier to obtain. I'm his patron now, and he's able to continue living in the style to which he'd become accustomed. All he needs to offer me in exchange is a regular taste."

Qui had heard of far worse fates for a Kindred's favored mortal than that. In fact, it sounded like a downright generous arrangement. He felt his Hunger gnawing at him; he'd been so preoccupied with the thought of meeting and deceiving the Prince that he'd neglected his personal needs. "Is there a system in place, here?" he asked. "Are the dolls open to visiting Kindred or are they all spoken for?"

"It's unfortunately very easy to step on toes here without knowing any better," Arundel said. "I'd be happy to make some arrangements at the front desk if you require nourishment. I can't allow my new associate to go hungry, now can I?"

"It would certainly get our business off to a poor start."

Arundel slipped into a gracious bow and beckoned Qui onward into the belly of the beast. There were always delights to be sampled at Elysium and Qui had to admit that he was curious what he might find. "Come, then," Arundel said. "I know a dinner companion who would be just perfect for you, my dear Mr. Who!"

Qui groaned. "Please don't call me that."