68

Qui emerges from his interview room clutching a notepad and pen. He does little to hide his grim expression when he informs the council that they can leave and be about their business. "Thank you for your time and patience," he says. "I may need to contact some of you for follow-up questions, but for now you're free to go."

"Free to go," you hear Bouchard growl. "As if he has the right to stop us."

You take a cramped elevator cheek to jowl with other Kindred, each eager to leave as quickly as possible and not willing to wait a second longer to be quit of Elysium and the prolonged council. A large analog clock on the wall above the ground floor exit shows that it's 2:37 in the morning. On an average night you wouldn't head home so early, but it's late and you're mentally exhausted.

Next

As you pull your heavy hood up to cover your face from the mortals, Uuntezazk scurries up your pant leg and into your waiting left hand. You open your bond of mental communication. "Did you learn anything?" you ask.

The rat chitters through the bond. "Sire Corliss, she is speaking with the bad-smelling Warlock after the others leave. The one in the red robe. So soft…it tickled my whiskers! Someone new too! Large hat. White gloves."

"Was there anything you could pick up on? Were they friendly? On good terms?"

"Sire Corliss seemed angry, but she's always angry. Remember when she kicked me?" Anger flows through the bond and you reply mentally.