Events from “On The Path Of The Prophet”

Notes by Anthony

Zachary sat back in the soft lounge chair in the back room of Desirée’s art studio. The wooden frame creaked quietly under his weight. Though the front of the studio was minimalist and spacious, drawing no attention away from the beautiful works of art, the back room was a workspace meant for relaxation and focus. The overhead lighting was soft and warm and peaceful on the cream-colored walls. He noted the stacks of canvas and empty easels, the worktable and desk in the corner cluttered with paints and charcoal. Despite the strangeness of the situation and knowing full well his hosts were vampires like himself, this place felt…normal. Human.

For the first time in a long while, Zachary was struck with the urge to close his eyes and succumb to sleep, no matter what nightmares lurked in the dark recesses of his mind. He was dead tired. The journeys through the mirror dimension to talk to Immanuel, Damien, and Joan had exhausted him mentally and spiritually. The visions of the city and failed attempt to contact Damien had left him physically drained. Zachary didn’t know why these exertions had caused blood to pour from his mouth and skin, but he remembered what George had said about the beast within him needing blood to survive. The organ, or whatever existed under his skin, twisted uneasily. Zachary rested his elbows on his knees and buried his forehead in his hands. A lot had happened since he’d left Hotel Americana and he needed to get his head on straight.

George had retreated to his room after revealing he was a secretly a clanless vampire.  It felt a little like college again as Zachary and Ben stuffed clothing and books into their backpacks. When George returned, Zachary tried to contact Damien through the mirror, but it just left him nauseous and bleeding from the eyes. Without any further guidance from his Malkavian…relatives, Zachary pulled out a quarter and flipped for which kindred-owned club they should try first. Heads for Club Euphonia, and tails for Club Phase. The coin landed on heads, and George called a cab for the three of them. While Ben and Zachary watched the scenery, George received a few calls. He didn’t speak to anyone, and Zachary assumed he was getting instructions from secret government handlers. 

When they arrived at Club Euphonia it was nearly midnight on Friday, and the line to enter was long and filled with young people dressed much, much better than Zachary or Ben were. The jeans and band regalia would have been perfect at the basement rock shows Zachary and Ben attended when they didn’t mind being hungover and exhausted the next day, but this was not their crowd. Zachary scanned the people in line with his spectral vision, hoping to catch a glimpse of something or someone important. Everyone in line had bright colors haloing them, mostly mixtures of red-orange and violet. He noticed George’s aura then, pale and staticky like white noise on a television. It felt like worry. Zachary looked at his own hands and saw that his color was also pale. Ben’s aura was vibrant like the rest of the humans, but something strange swirled within it. Zachary was about to ask what the colors and hues meant when he saw George confidently striding towards the door. George said something to the bouncer, and he let them cut the line and enter without another word. Zachary tried to ignore the looks of envy and hostility on the back of his neck from those stuck in line.

Club Euphonia was loud, beautiful, and exactly like his vision. Art lined the walls, and bright neon lights illuminated the dance floor and bounced off a huge disco ball twirling in the middle of the ceiling. Zachary found himself moving with the crowd and the beat of the dance pop. The crowd parted, and Zachary momentarily found himself in the center of the floor, precisely where his dream-self had appeared. He looked up, and the lights swung away from his eyes to reveal the two women from his dream on the second floor balcony. The shorter one was staring right at him, and Zachary lifted his hand to wave before the lights blocked his sight and rhythm of the dancers pushed him towards the walls. Zachary found Ben and George and pulled them towards the dimly lit VIP sign. George kept staring at his phone as the VIP bouncer was met with another tall, freckled man in a nice suit who led them up the stairs 

George took the lead on introducing them, and Zachary watched as suspicion and hostility, already present on the two young women’s faces, grew deeper with every word. The taller woman called George out on his deliberate lack of clarity. The shorter woman, who introduced herself as Desirée, led the group to a side room and asked Zachary why he was here. What could he say? He told them the truth. He was a Malkavian born yesterday who had been plagued with visions of the world ending. He’d seen a strange concentric city lying in darkness until it was destroyed by a meteor, a woman in a lake, aliens falling from the sun, and a giant flesh monster beneath New York City. He’d seen the two women in Club Euphonia tonight and knew that they could help. The truth was strange and impossible to believe, sure, but Zachary had to have faith that if they were meant to help, then they’d feel his honesty and at least hear him out. 

That was when things got strange with George. George had left their discussion to stare out at the crowd, and when he returned, he said they were “royally fucked.” George said that Zachary was being puppeted by an ancient and possibly malevolent entity, and Zachary was just as likely to be the instrument of the world’s destruction as its savior. Zachary was about to say that this felt like the kind of conversation they should have before trying to convince two strangers they needed their help to save the world when a sinister man entered the VIP area. Desirée seemed to know him as the Seneschal Vittorio. When he confronted her about a meddling Malkavian rooting around in people’s minds, Desirée pretended like she knew nothing about any illegal Malkavians in Alexandria and didn’t hand Zachary over. Vittorio left in a huff, and George reappeared from wherever he had been hiding in the lounge. 

George said that the thing inside Zachary’s head had likely prevented his employers from recognizing George. George pleaded with Zachary to turn themselves into his handlers. They would have the answers. They could fix this and had every reason to try and stop the end of the world. Zachary shook his head. If the Elysium Court or shadow Camarilla government were the answer, why wouldn’t Immanuel have gone to them? Why would Immanuel risk Zachary’s (un)life and the future of the world by abandoning him, just to prevent them from being found? Zachary revealed to the group that he had been told to “follow the music” and contact his Malkavian brother through the mirror for answers. That was the next step after finding Desirée and the tall woman.

Desirée didn’t want Zachary using the mirror in the club, given he’d confessed his recent history of seizing and shouting after at least one mirror-conversation. She offered her art studio and told one of her bodyguards to bring the car around front. As Zachary and Ben exited the club and entered their car, George broke off from them, followed close behind by another man in a dark suit. George ripped open his shirt like Superman and showed something on his chest to a woman, who looked shocked. George turned to Zachary and asked him to come with them, but Zachary closed his eyes and asked Desirée to “please drive.” Zachary watched in the side view mirror as George was bundled in an unmarked black SUV and driven away. Zachary was scared that something terrible would happen to his…friend? Companion? Protector? But Zachary couldn’t risk being locked away forever if that was the wrong move. 

At the art studio, Zachary asked if Desirée had a music player. His “brother,” Damien, was blind, and it was possible that the sound was needed to connect with him. She mentioned a boombox in the back room, and Zachary followed Desirée within. That was when he saw the painting. The city lay before him, as seen from above. Huge, dark, and menacing. The circular patterns drew Zachary’s gaze deeper and he was lost, falling into the city until he was walking through its streets. Meteors streaked from the sky towards them like lasers. A friend ran up, telling Zachary – Marcus – that he had to get to the temple and warn the Mechatine. Zachary turned to the temple and watched as it faded from view like it was derezzed in Tron. The vision was cut off as Benjamin threw a drop cloth over the painting and Desirée shook him awake. Zachary told them he recognized the city from his dreams, and it had triggered a vision, but refrained from sharing further just yet. They already thought he was crazy. Spouting more nonsense he didn’t understand wasn’t going to help matters. Zachary took the boombox to the bathroom mirror and closed his eyes. Beneath the pop beat there was a tapping sound, and Zachary followed it to a handsome young man walking with a cane. 

Zachary opened his eyes on the lounge chair and motioned for Ben to hand over the composition notebook they’d written his visions in. He scanned what Ben had already wrote and added his own notes.

After Zachary had spoken with Damien and relayed the vision, the taller woman introduced herself as Ty. She asked Zachary that if they had total proof that he was to destroy the world instead of saving it if he would be ready to die instead. Zachary thought he should feel surprised at the question, but he wasn’t. After what George said and what he had seen in the visions, the possibility was there. And what Zachary had seen was too terrible to allow to come to pass, no matter who had to die to stop it. Zachary nodded, and promised he was ready to make that choice. Ty seemed satisfied and said she could talk to someone named Jeremiah and see what he knew. Desirée didn’t think her “Tory” (Toreador?) girls would know about Malkavian things, but they could go to the “Nossies” (Nosferatu). 

While Ty made calls, Zachary went back to mirror to look for Joan. He heard the laughter of a little girl, but a confusing spiral of cords connected the mirrors, and Zachary couldn’t find the right thread. He found himself shouting her name in the void, hoping that she might hear him and call back. Zachary remembered her face as it appeared in the mirror. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old in form, but she knew far more that anyone he had spoken with so far. Zachary opened the notebook again and reviewed what Ben had written down.