119

The road outside Elysium is cordoned off with reams of yellow and black police tape, and a small herd of mortals have crowded around at regular intervals, talking among themselves as they speculate about what might have happened late last night. A quick glance up the building's mirrored face confirms what you already knew—the windows of the Elysium floor have been blown out and the pavement is littered with a liberal peppering of broken glass. Someone must have known about the Hunt last night. No one would have dared such a brazen attack on the heart of Ottawa's Kindred society unless they knew many of the heaviest hitters were off the table for the night.

Uuntezazk shifts in your pocket—you decided to bring him with you just in case he could sniff out anything useful that might be invisible to the naked eye.

Someone approaches you through the crowd before you arrive at the front doors, swiftly closing in on your location. You try to place the face but his features are only remarkable in the way that they're utterly unremarkable. Bland to the point where your eyes feel like they're sliding off of him and onto other, more interesting mortals. You look away for a moment before your eyes snap back. Something supernatural is shielding this intruder from prying eyes. There's little doubt in your mind; this is the same trick you use to blend in while hiding within a crowd of mortals, lest your deformities send them running and screaming in fear.

You address the nondescript man in a genial fashion and he continues his approach, features shifting as he puts the crowd of mortals behind him. Wait, is that…?

"Kashif?" you ask, surprised to see the vizier here. "Why are you hiding out in the crowd? Did you hear what happened to Elysium?"

He puts a finger to his lips. "Patience, Ms. .. Might I speak with you in private?"

You allow him to guide you to the other side of the road out of earshot from the mortals, but still within view. You're on good terms with him, but he's still an Assassin, after all. "What's this about?" you ask. "I'm expected at the investigation."

"There are precious few within the Ivory Tower who I might approach about this," Kashif says. "but I believe you are an honorable woman. Unlike the majority of your Camarilla kin, you have treated me with respect."

Why do you have the feeling he's buttering you up? "I appreciate the sentiment, Kashif," you say warily. "What is it that you'd like to speak to me about?"

"It is about your sire. Do you trust her?"

A painfully blunt question.