From the diary of Randal Shepherd,
8pm Tuesday 29th September 2009
Intuition. Something I have relied upon all of my living and non-living life. I guess my peers may even say I am ‘gifted’ that way. Gifted or not, I have this feeling in my stomach like a ball of concrete encrusted with barbed wire, heavy, sharp and unpleasant.
With the recent deluge of information unleashed upon The Scourge and myself concerning Chimera, a cult of trained vampire killers, cell like in structure and incredibly well hidden, I feel besieged with a growing list of ‘Prospective Hostiles’. Not only are the numbers or the extent of the threat posed by Chimera unknown, there is a growing body of evidence pointing towards this group being headed up by Kindred. The name ‘Ben’ has again surfaced, a name previously touted by the now infamous Quinton Sail. Certainly the gathering of Adelaide kindred intel would match up with the presumed ill-intent of this character and more than likely our friend ‘Ben’ has recently acquired some allies.
I feel like some kind of marionette, dangling from strings, handled by multiple puppeteers, unable to trace a cohesive line back to any one source of control. Continuing with this metaphor, my subsequent actions are spasmodic, erratic and fitful. I am constantly on my heels at the moment, and seem unable to make a breaking headway into what is seething beneath this cities skin, my fangs dull and no longer able to pierce or tap into the lifeblood of the streets, people and networks of Adelaide and drink from their rich and soothing offerings.
Our Elders seem to provide minimal comfort or advice as to how to tackle what is happening…too preoccupied with their decade’s old schemes and plots and the machinations of their social circles, and as always we are plagued by an ongoing lack of hard physical evidence at what is unfolding before our eyes. Old jaded eyes, unable to see through the myriad of shadows and the movements they conceal and too distracted to take meaning from things observed. Let’s hope they can still stir from their crypts once they see the flames through all this smoke.
The Scourge feel it too. I can see it in their eyes, hear it in their voices. Desperate to strike out at an enemy which constantly provides them with little more than fleeting glimpses and enshrouded actions.
Concrete and barbed wire, cutting, weighty, seeking a way to tear its way out, to drop through me, dragging my screaming nerves away with it. I know it will happen soon, I can feel it deep inside me, I can only hope that when it finally rips free, that the resulting trauma is kept to a manageable level.
I am meeting Phaelan at the airport, Sabiti’s car was found by police earlier today, he has a feeling that some information can be gleaned from the cars electronics. The vehicle is being watched, and I have the airport footage primed and ready for a viewing.
Freda has spoken with me about Douglas Clarke. There is a tie here between ‘Little Boy Blue’, Clarke, Chimera and Sabiti. Something serious is up, and I can’t yet put my finger on it, but for all intents and purposes it feels we are walking into some kind of ambush. I’m sure she is still in the state, I just pray we find her before Doug and/or whatever might be stalking Doug explodes in an ugly mess.
Ok incoming call from Grief, time to check this car out…