Jeffrey Dean
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'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2024-12-16 21:00:02 +0000 UTC[Please note this is not an official World of Darkness licensed product. All chapters within this setting will be available free of charge and will never be behind a paywall.]
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Qui tried his best to stave off panic. If the Prince knew who he was, then he knew his reputation—an assassin walking brazenly into the spider's web. He shot Arundel a look, but his escort seemed as surprised as he was.
"Yes, I know who you are," Jonah said as he leaned forward in the throne, resting his chiseled jaw on his fist like he was posing for a sculptor as he watched Qui's reaction. "I must say that I rather enjoy your choice of moniker. What better assumed name in a largely French-speaking nation than 'Qui?' It's cheeky enough to grab my attention—I love it when a vampire embraces the absurd." He spread his hands in greeting. "Welcome to Ottawa, Mr. Who."
There was no point in denying the truth; the Prince had done his homework if he knew the name James Coyle. "Thank you, Prince Jonah," Qui said. "You're most gracious." His mind was racing, analyzing his situation. The Prince was sharper than Cranston had let on. He'd expected to find a defeated man hiding in his castle, petrified of the Sabbat hordes. Instead, he'd found…this. Not that it was a game-changing revelation—he'd ended several vampires who believed themselves to be untouchable. Cocky men were often the easiest to dispatch, their confidence woefully misplaced. Now all he had to do was watch for a weakness. Everybody had one, mortal and Kindred alike.
The Prince waved his hand. "We can dispense with the formalities," he said. "Call me Jonah. Feel free to speak your mind as you would address any other Kindred."
"I will," Qui said. "Thank you, Jonah. I'm curious. Where did you hear that name?"
"James?" Jonah asked. "Contrary to popular opinion, I still have my wits about me and my influence is considerable. When you arrived, I did what any good host would do—I researched my guest so that I might best entertain him for the duration of his stay." He waved his hand. "But your name and your past do not matter in my Court as long as you follow the Traditions. Tell me—why have you come to Ottawa?"
"I'm afraid my plans aren't terribly interesting in the grand scheme of things," Qui said. "I came at the request of Primogen Cranston to act as her right hand until the local police are in order and the Masquerade is secure."
Jonah smirked. "Yes, you would do well as the right hand of a Nosferatu." He made a show of un-crossing his legs and standing up before sauntering over and examining Qui like a judge inspecting a prize-winning animal. "Absolutely stunning," he muttered as he reached out a hand to flick aside Qui's hair.
"Begging your pardon," Qui said, holding back his anger as best he could while he pulled away. "I have boundaries that I'd prefer remain uncrossed."
Oh, how he was going to enjoy chopping this preening prick's head off.
"Of course," Jonah said, letting the hand fall to his side before returning to his throne. "I've heard the rumors, of course. But I was hoping to see your scar first-hand."
"You could have asked. Most guests prefer not to be touched without permission—you did just reference the desire to be a proper host, after all. "
Jonah shrugged. "I'm mercurial at best, Mr. Who. Your comfort does not interest me per se, not as much as discovering your true purpose in my domain."
Qui frowned. This was going to be a problem. The Prince not buying Cranston's excuse was one thing, but the fascination with his history and scar was another. There were some Kindred out there who would eagerly take him apart in an attempt to divine the truth behind his lack of deformities. They wouldn't succeed, nobody ever did, but that rarely seemed to stem the tide of fascination. He took a step away from the throne. If he had to run, he'd be ready.
"Come now," Jonah said, clicking his tongue. The Malkavian's ability to sense his emotions seemed quite keen, indeed. "I've extended you an invitation to my city. I don't harm my visitors as long as they play by the rules."
"Is that so?" Qui asked.
"It is."
"Do you eye all of your guests like a hungry shark?"
Jonah laughed. "Most of them, yes. You see, Mr. Who, everyone is useful in their own way, and they play their parts in this little drama of ours regardless of their personal desires." He wagged his finger at Qui. "I know change when I see it standing in front of me. I know death when it stares across my ballroom."
He raised his voice until it thundered throughout the chamber. "I'd know your truth, assassin! Who is your target?" He loomed like a thunderhead, somehow managing to appear like he was staring down at Qui despite being at least a foot shorter in stature. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's all in the name, don't you see?" He barked a sudden laugh. "Who!"
Qui stood his ground. The Prince might think himself clever, but the man's childish display was giving him more than enough to work with. The Malkavian might know how to demand attention, but he couldn't command respect. That was why his reign had failed, it was clear. Cranston was right.
Prince Jonah had to go.
"I have greeted you in peace," Qui said. "Announced my presence as the Traditions dictate."
"You have, indeed," Jonah said as he settled back into his throne. "That is why your corpse still ambles about my floor, free to spread its lies. But there is a threshold to my tolerance." He leaned forward, hands clasped in a pantomime of a beggar. "You will not harm one single hair on Michel Bouchard's bald head while you are here. Do you understand me?"
Qui was stunned speechless.
"Our new arrival has no untoward intentions regarding Bouchard," Arundel said from the room's entrance. It was the first time he'd spoken up since they arrived; Qui had almost forgotten he was there, given Jonah's relentless demand for attention. "I assure you, my Prince," he said. "Qui has only the best intentions for our city at heart."
Jonah's eyes shifted to Arundel and Qui could see him weighing the man. Despite his eccentric demeanor, there was little doubt that the Prince could detect a blatant lie if he chose to. Most vampires of his bloodline could. Luckily for Qui, Arundel clearly believed what he was saying. The rub was that his interpretation of 'best intentions' was the destruction of the Prince, himself.
"Very well," Jonah said. "Perhaps I misjudged you, James Coyle."
"Qui. My name is Qui."
Jonah rolled his eyes. "If you insist."
"Have we anything further to discuss?"
"No." Jonah leaned back in his throne. "Feel free to leave and play out your own personal drama far away from me." He paused for a moment as Qui turned to leave. "And send one of my girls in while you're on your way. Arundel knows my favorites."
