Jeffrey Dean
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'Qui: The Fall of Ottawa' Part 2, Chapter 17
🕑 Added 2025-04-28 22:00:06 +0000 UTCPreviously: After spending the night in Sam's apartment, Qui arrived at work and discussed the mission complications over the phone with Eleanor Cranston, his Nosferatu employer. Sam arrived at the police station shortly thereafter and she explained that she's been craving Qui's Blood since being 'ghouled.' Their conversation was interrupted when there was a knock at Qui's office door and someone asked for 'Mr. Who.'
Chapter 17:
"The correct office at last!" a familiar voice called from the other side of the door. "Your desk sergeant was quite helpful, but this precinct is rather labyrinthine. You should really invest in an engraving for your office door, Mr. Who."
Sam looked at Qui, puzzled. "What did he call you?"
"It's nothing," he said. His demeanor shifted almost instantly and he put a finger to his lips. "Thank you for the report, Ms. Lyle. I'll make sure the proper funds are allocated, shortly." He stood up and shook her hand. "Please let the gentleman in on your way out."
"Sure," Sam replied, trying to hide the concern on her face. "Glad to be of help." She stepped over to the door and opened it, revealing a tall gentleman in an utterly impeccable suit, tie, and dress pants. The whole ensemble must have cost half of what she made in a year. His smile was utterly charming and within seconds any anxiety she had evaporated into nothingness.
"Thank you kindly, officer," the newcomer said as he swept past her and sat down in the seat facing Qui. Sam closed the door behind him.
"You got here quickly, Arundel," Qui said, unable to disguise the entirety of his displeasure. "And you know I'm not overly fond of the 'Mr. Who' thing. Let's leave that to our Prince Jonah, shall we?"
"Of course," Arundel replied with a slight nod and amicable smile. "My local offices are just down the street, you see. That's probably the reason the commissioner called me to deal with this in person. She said you'd encountered a wrinkle in the plan? I have to be honest with you, James, Eleanor meant to pull you from this position by tomorrow night–she believes that you've done your part wonderfully and that any further complication could jeopardize what you've already set up. Imagine my surprise when I was told that my services were required this late in the game."
Qui tapped his fingers on the desk, mind racing a mile a minute. His purpose in mentioning the dead men had been to extend his time working with Sam at the precinct until the night of the assassination, and his gambit seemed to have at least partially paid off. But now he was faced with a man well known for sorting truth from fiction without batting an eye. He doubted even a lie of omission would pass unscrutinized. That was the reason the commissioner had called him here–not something as mundane as physical proximity.
"She's already given you the basics, then?" Qui asked.
Arundel nodded. "What she's aware of, anyway. She was concerned about speaking of the matter over the phone line. One never knows who could be listening." He tilted his head toward the door, quiet or a moment. "I believe we're all by our lonesome, so there's no time like the present. All cards on the table." He spread his hands and then held his index finger up as if to start counting. "One of the dead men was known to our dear Eleanor. Michel Bouchard uses homeless mortals as a network of spies and the first body you sent back happened to be one of them. That much she already knows."
"Ah," Qui said. There was really no reason to put up a front about what was already in the open. Best to play along. "I came to the same conclusion. The vagrant had instructions in his pocket which led back to our friend in the sewers."
"Which brings us to the unknown," Arundel said, holding up a second finger. "The other body and why you became personally involved in the whole sordid affair. Not that it's my place to pass judgment; I've had my fair share of dalliances with mortals from time to time. She was threatened, and making problems go away comes with the territory–we all take care of our own when it suits us. The question is: how did Samantha Lyle become entangled with what, by all accounts, appears to be little more than a brawl between homeless men? She called your office and you rushed right over to sort out the situation."
"Called me?"
"Come now," Arundel said. "There's a reason the commissioner was worried about speaking over the phone. If Eleanor's able to monitor them, why not someone else?"
"Oh."
"Yes," Arundel replied. "She had someone listening. The phone log suggested that you had been involved in a fight during your investigation yesterday night. I believe the word Samantha used was 'monster.' The Prince's policy for this domain is to allow fellow Kindred to attend to their own business as they see fit, but our mutual collaborator takes a far more hands-on approach, so I find myself at a bit of an uncomfortable impasse. Cranston wants this wrinkle ironed out and at the moment I'm obligated to facilitate that process. You understand, don't you?"
Qui wracked his brain to remember if there'd been even a hint of a suggestion that he'd given Sam a taste of his Blood during their conversation on the phone. He didn't think so–Sam had been rather preoccupied with the dead bodies and getting help as quickly as possible. The discussion about her new abilities had taken place in her apartment after the fact. But there remained the problem of the fight and Sam's usage of the word 'monster.' For all he knew, Arundel had already pieced together what happened. Sometimes the truth was the best policy, after all. "We were investigating a murder on the outskirts of the city," he said.
"Do you take part in many routine police operations, here?" Arundel asked.
Qui shook his head. "Not many, no."
"It's a bit outside your purview, isn't it? Joining the rank and file on the ground?"
"I'd say it's situational," Qui replied. "And this case struck me as odd. The wounds on the victim didn't look like knife-work to me, despite what the first responders wrote in their report."
"What would you say they looked like?"
"Jagged tearing," Qui replied. "But somehow controlled, not like a wild animal or unstable human murderer. It reminded me of a ritualistic slaughter I saw decades ago."
Arundel leaned forward. "Interesting," he said. "So curiosity is what drove you. That's a sentiment I understand well. What did you discover when you arrived?"
"We encountered a vampire and his familiar there, no pack or coterie, more feral than Kindred. I believe it was a Tzimisce."
"Well," Arundel said with a grimace. "That's an unfortunate surprise to find this close to the capital. Ms. Lyle witnessed the creature?"
"I wiped Sam's mind after the confrontation," Qui said. It wasn't technically a lie–he actually had forced her to forget the initial encounter at the mechanic shop. Of course the problem was everything she'd witnessed after that fact.
If Arundel noticed his omission, he gave no outward sign. "It's safe to assume you prevailed against the Fiend, since you're sitting here beside me–limbs intact and the same size as the last time I saw you–but events also suggest that your opponent survived, as well. For a time, at least."
"Yes," Qui replied reluctantly.
"And it followed you and Ms. Lyle home."
Qui nodded. Arundel was remarkably astute, putting together the pieces of his story effortlessly. It was rather unnerving. "That's correct, although it was greatly weakened after the fight."
"It must have been," Arundel said. "To have been defeated by a mortal who has been living on the streets."
"A mortal employed by one of our own," Qui replied. "Who's to say whether or not Michel Bouchard empowered his spies before sending them on the job? Vagrants can't be relied upon without a blood bond."
Arundel rubbed his chin and thought for a moment. "Not a bad point," he said after several seconds. "Bouchard has been rather fond of bending the rules, of late. He can sense the tides of power changing just like the rest of us can, and we already know of his enmity toward Eleanor Cranston. It's a perfect fit. Case closed. I'll make the report to the commissioner later tonight."
Qui raised an eyebrow. The man didn't sound as convinced as his words suggested. "You're not telling me something," he said.
"That's why I like you, James," Arundel said. "You're not afraid to get to the point. The point is that things in our world are so rarely so simple. We Kindred delight in our messes and I'm quite certain that there is more scandal to uncover."
