[Sodium_noir] a Snapshot in the Night

[Spikey]

Tonantzin, Xilonen, Xochiquetzal, Mrs Patricia Creighton
Ahua Can
Darktown/Neon City

Tonantzin, elder of the Coterie, sat silently reading from a book. The pages where dried leather and the cover looked a little too familiar for Mrs Creighton to peer too closely. When she asked she had been told simply that it was called the Miquixtli Codex and that it was concerned with the dead. She was too new to the blood to be worrying about the ancient spells of the Ahua Can or their corrupted bloodline.

Xochiquetzal, Mrs Creighton's sire, was as always in a dreamy state and uncommunicative. And so, as had become habit, it was the middle member of the trio, Xilonen, who continued with the education. Her grasp of English was by far the best, and it had come on in leaps and bounds with each human she devoured in Gotham. She hardly had any accent at all now. Added to that was the fact that she had donned the skin of a Whore in darktown and now looked like a buxom Black woman instead of a short Mexican Indian.

"Tzincoatl is dead!" She said all of a sudden. "He was weak, unable to meet the challenges of the blood. But in light of our recent losses, one male childer pales in comparison. You would do well to learn from the lessons the serpent has presented for us of later. We have tasted failure and bitter regret, and we must embrace our sorrow as a sister and understand her song."

Tonantzin snarled something in their own language, complete with the sibilant tone they all had when they spoke with a forked tongue. 

"Agreed!" Xilonen said, still in English. "We are adrift in this city, and while your understanding of America and Gotham can aid us sister, we need to make new alliances with those who wield the power here. Our plan is lost now that the Obsidian canes is gone and we must find another way to placate the Ahua Can. There must be something else we can offer them that would be worthy of their forgiveness."

The eldest Vampire shook the book and spoke quickly, obviously excited at what she had found. The others hurried to her side, and this time they encouraged Mrs Creighton to join them. 

The Ritual was unclear to her, but she was sure it was as new to them. Unlike the other spells and acts of devotion she had witnessed, this time they were as much in the dark as she herself always was. The High priestess paused often to check the book before making her incantations. 

The room gets colder. Much colder and far too quickly to be natural. The smell of damp and decay gets stronger and all four of the undead women look to the ceiling as it begins to drip brackish water. Tonantzin's chanting speeds up and is taken up by the others. Even Mrs Creighton is able to fathom the sounds and repeat them. Receiving a look of encouragement from the others as she does so.

The water gets faster and a puddle begins to form on the floor. The water is dark and stagnant, with the same scent of decay about it. One by one the Ahua Can open their wrists and pour a little of their Vitae into the pool. 



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In the Shadowlands of Darktown the Wraiths pause in their battles. The Veil shimmers and the skinlands come into stronger focus. The almost derelict tenement blocks seem less likely to fall down. Although the difference between the real buildings and the rotten remnants of the dark Umbra are not always so easy to tell between.

The ragtag armies of the Native American dead from South of the border become aware of the vampires and their ritual, even if they are not able to tell exactly where the epicentre of the breach is forming. The Local dead of Gotham look up from their barricades as well, even as far away as the Bay and the Colt mansion they noticed the eddies of magic that reached into their world. But they were too busy defending their haunts from the newly arrived Spectres and warlike Wraiths to do anything about it.

Only one Wraith who'd lived and died in Gotham was abroad tonight. The shade of a man with bitter regrets and an unending fury over his defeat. In life he had been the master of his domain, with an entire borough to do his will. Ascension had been within his grasp, and after that ... the world.

Then the Brute the family sent had torn his empire down. Snivelling little runt at the Bordello had helped him he was sure. And when he died, he'd been flung into the Hell of Erlik Khan, the lord of the dead. Lord alone knew what torments he might have suffered there if it wasn't for the Demon Buzarhadaa. The Demon who had taken this poor lost soul and returned it to Gotham.

Returned it to Gotham to search for his body, or failing that, to find a new body to occupy. Once a sorcerer, reaching to be a Mage, this Wraith's destiny now was to become a Kuei-Jin, or worse still, a Yulan-Jin. A Vagrant soul animating bodies for short periods of time before the little death that other Vampires recovered from with ease sent him scampering off to find new flesh. A new body.



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In their hide-away the Itzcoatl complete their ritual. Each of them falls to slumber, or as close as the Vampire can, and their senses merge and reach out into the Shadow lands. The Ahua Can walked the lands of the dead in spirit form, scattering the Wraiths who had been sacrificed over the ages to give their bloodline power. 

The dead remnants of Aztec and Olmec, of Toltec and Incan. All of them went bravely and willingly to their deaths. sacrifices tot he Gods, to keep the sun burning and the world from dying. They fled the shadowy serpent that rose from Neon City and spread out across Darktown. An Astral projection of four Vampires bound into a single shadow, it crept through the dark Umbra with its rattle shaking, and even the lone Wraith who had had no fear of anything it met this side of the veil until now, ran for cover.

The thought form of the Itzcoatl slithered out of their basement and went on the prowl through the Shadowlands of Gotham, looking for an epiphany and  answers to their plight.

 
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