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    M

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    171;pOreto OF 33 FK4WmFRocnwmwmF

    T?H3 C t m N b W L mmQm Norel: oreador by Stewart Wieck

    Clan Norel: Tzimisc~ y Eric GriffinQm Novel: OLPgrel by Gherbod Fleming

    C h orel: Sctite by Kathleen RyanQn Nod: entrue by Gherbod Fleming

    Qm Nod: m b n y Richard E. Danslr).C h ovel: Anunite by Gherbod Fleming

    C h ovel: Rnnol by Kathleen RyanQmNorel:- ' byStmartWieckQm Norel: G i d y Justin Aclulli

    C h orel: Brujah by Gherbod FlemingC h orel: Tremerr by Eric Griffin

    Qm Nod: orfenhl by Gherbod Fleming

    ----Dark+: Anunite by Stefan Petrucha

    DukAge8: Cappadorim by Andrew Bat( S

    TH? l 3 M W O t P 'plrwtr f lbWT m3s

    Tribe Novels: Shadow Lord. 8 Ca f F dby Gherbod Fleming & Eric Griffin

    Tribe N d : L& Furiu 8 Silent Strid-by Gherbod Fleming & Carl BowenTribe Novels: Red Tdom 8 Fienna

    by Philippe B o d e & Eric GriffinTribe Novels: Bone Gnnrrn 8 S t q m m

    by Just- Achilli & Bill BridgesTrik Novels: Children of Gii. B U h ~ l l .

    by Richard L e e Byers & Stefan PetruchaTribe Novels: Silver Fang# & G~UI h

    by Car Bowen & T i m DedopulosTribe Novels: Black Spiral D m ~ n We d @

    by Eric Griffin & Bill Bridges

    '

    FOR LL THESE TITLES AND MORE, VISIT

    WWW.~WITE-WOLF.COM/FICTION

    http://www.white-wolf.com/fictionhttp://www.white-wolf.com/fiction
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    Editor: Philippe B o d eCover Artist: Matt Milberger

    Copyeditor: James StewartGraphic Dedgner: Matt MilbergerA r t Director: Richard Thomas

    )2 White Wolf, Inc. All rights reserved.r , . . 3 * . I _ ._.

    e . ..mission from the publisher.

    White Wolf is committed to reducing waste i n pubson, we do not permit o ur covers to be strippedt - 4 r m m i r r that th. whnle hnnb he rrtiirnrd allowi

    Q 2 0 cNo part of tnis DOOR may De reproaucea o r transmltxea in any form

    orby any means, electronic o r mechanical-includingphotocopy, ecord-ing, Internet posting, electronicbulletinboard--oranyother nformationstoram and retrieval svstem. exceut for the uuruose of reviews, without

    Pellishing. For this

    rea for returns, butins .__-~ - - -___._ _ _ ___ ________.___. ng us to resell it.

    AU persons, places, and organizations i n this book-except those

    dearly in the public domain-are fictitious, and any resemblance that mayseem to exist to actual persons, places, or organizations living, dead, o rdefunct is purely coincidental. The mention of or reference to anycompanies o r products i n these pages is not a challenge to the trademarkso r copyrights concerned.

    White Wolf is a registered trademarks ofWhite Wolf Publishing, Inc.DemonThe Fallen. Lucifers Shadow, Clan NovelToreador, Clan NovelTzimisce, Clan Novel Gangrel, Clan Novel Setite, Clan NovelVentrue.

    Clan Novel Lasombra, Clan Novel Assamite, Clan Novel Ravnos, ClanNovel Malkavian, Clan Novel Ciovanni, Clan Novel Brujah, Clan NovelTremere, Clan Novel Nosferatu. DarkAges Nosferatu. DarkAges Assamite,Dark es Cappadocian, T ri be Novels Shadow Lords & Get of Fenris,Tr ibe Novels Bladr Furies & Silent Striders, Tribe Novels Red Talons &Fianna, Tribe Novels Bone Gnawers & Stargazers, Tribe Novels Childrenof Gaia & Uktena, Tribe Novels Silver Fangs & Glass, and Tribe NovelsBlackspiral Dancers &Wendig0 are trademarks ofwhite WolfPublishing,

    Inc. AU rights reserved.

    ISBN 1-58846-824-0First Edition: December 2 0 0 2P r in t e d in Canada

    White Wolf Publishing1554 Litton DriveS tone Moun ta in , GA 30083www.white-wolf.com/fiction

    http://www.white-wolf.com/fictionhttp://www.white-wolf.com/fiction
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    rn-wSPfffEQ-Michael B. Lee

    abt G ~ O O DMyranda Kalis

    TwR 3 v m TEmEllen Porter G le y

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    V H a T s m m ~ 8 6Sarah Roark

    T m DFWJs *om 116Greg Stolze

    Diane Piron-Gelmans m m qpoPpETDFerernE 1 4 6

    ab %spffffam O m w a r n

    G ~ m f i o u s a sLucien Soulban

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    T ~ f i s w m w v m

    Carl Bowen

    Matthew McFarland

    Adam Tinworth

    2 3 0

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    Thinkst thou that I who saw the face of God ,

    And tasted the eternal oys of heaven,

    Am not torm ented with ten thousand hells

    In being deprived of everlasting bliss

    -Christopher Marlowe, Doctor Faustus

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    H

    ers instruments.

    all was Lucifer, for it was hethe Almighty and ushered i n

    him. Others s

    birthed the first beasts. All this, too, was good.m w wmm

    Then , God said, Let there be Man and Woman.And there was. And this, too, was good.

    Into these beautiful creatures, God poured a l l hisinfinite love, and we loved them as well. And God said

    unto us, Love them and protect them, but do not revealyourselves or your mysteries to them. And this, this wa sno t good.

    For how could we love and protect them withoutteachingthem? How couldwe watch themblindlystrugglewith the most basic elements? They shivered in thewinters and feared the storm. They struggled to makeeven fire. They could not speak or sing or dream. Ourhearts ached with the love God Himself had taught us,conflicted with the strictures He had imposed.

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    Andsowe turned, aswealwayshad, o theMorningstar."Lucifer, "we said, "how canwe reconcile the twin ordersn f P,ncl? Tell l is I iuhthrinuer

    I Y c 1 1 1 1 1 u I v u "'"""', A . I c . . . c Y . .I._Morningstar's banner of rebellion. From each of theseven houses of the Elohim, they came, and Heavendamned them each i n its own way:

    Fromthe First House-Lucifer's own-camethe Namaru,angels of light and fire. Heaven branded them as Devils.

    From the Second House came the Asharu, guardianangels and bearers of the breath of life. Heaven brandedthem as Scourges.

    From the Third House came t h e h n u n a k i , angels ofthe earth and wonder-makers extraordinaire. Heavenbranded 1

    Fromthe fates ar lu m e bL61-b. l l C a V C K l u ra i iu eu uleiil a b I LCLLUD.

    From the Fifth House came the Lammasu, angels of

    beauty and love. Heaven branded them as Defilers.From the Sixth House came the Rabisu, angels of thewilds. I

    Fro:leaven branded them as Devourers.m the Seventh and final House came the Halaku,angels of death and release. Heaven branded

    i Slayers.1 1 1.. 1 T.7 1 ...

    patientthem as

    Foratnousanayears, nerewmonragea. we Duutagreat

    citvcalledEdenandrevealedourselves othemenandwomen&re, teadungthemwondrousand terriblethings. Butinheend, we rebelscould not standagainstthe host. The Ophanim,those still loyal to the Mad God, triumphed. Lucifer the

    Ithers.

    tg re-x - ....v..La..L - L A A 6 L A . v z "._,,.verse,c u L u p . I I I I y Lwe were condemned to eternal darkness.6

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    Hell. The Pit. TheAbyss. Endlessvarieties in naminga place of utter and complete nothingness. No flesh. N ostars. No hope. And, worst of all, no Mornihgstar. Forthe first of us, he who had led us in rebellion andnegotiated ou r su rrend er, did not jo in us i n Hell.

    Betrayal some yelled without mouths.Over the course of eternity, our formless rage mounted.

    God the Maker allowed us o spend that wrath on the souls ofthe dead, the very humans we had once loved a t His word. It

    was Hell for tormentor and tormented alike.R m m

    A precious few slipped the chains of nothingness.Three-and-thirty score and six more vanished from theAbyss an d were named Earthbound. But for the rest ofus, Hell w a s everlasting. Until the storm.

    Perhaps as a sign of the coming of the Day ofJudgment,perhaps through the actions ofthe Earthbound, or perhapsthrough the fickle attentions of the Maker Himself, windssuchashadneverbeenseenbefore orethroughthe barriersaroundHell. Smallripsinthe fabricofnothingnessallowedsome of us o escape in unprecedented numbers.

    We flitted into the world as formless, weakened souls,

    maddened by our millennia of torment and lost without aphysical shell. We found, however, that there were soulsweaker than ours-humans who had lost hope or suffereds u c h trauma that their very will to live was all but gone. Wecrushedthosesouls, plunderedthem for their languageandknowledge, and made their bodies our own.

    Finally, we were free. Free to avenge the wrongs of the

    past anddeliveruntotheworldthe tormentwe hadsuffered.R m .*

    But for a few of us, t has not been so simple. A few ofus have found a glimmer of hope in the most unexpectedplace-the very souls we have displaced. In their memoriesand emotions we have remembered what it is like to love,to want, to sing. And ifwe can remember such things afteran eternity in the Abyss, there must be hope for us al l .

    But still, we wonder, where is the Morningstar?

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    ?hemiSgionhauachadseenbetterdays, ut so hadmost of South Central LA. The red-brick buildmg looked likeit had been erected back in the 30s and added to in the decadessince. The small chapel now adjoined a squat, ugly cinderblockstructure that served as he missionssouplritchenanddormitoryforthehomeless.Thetrailledhere. ddrivenaroundtheblock

    twice to make sure, and each ime the feelmgdraggedmebacktothistiredoldchurch.Therewerebarsonthenafiowwindowsand paleloops of old paintwheregang tagshadbeenblotted romthe cracked and uumbhgwalls. It seemed like a n inauspiaouplace to usher in the end of the world.

    It was well past the time when the homeless were giventheir morning ration of bread and prayer and turned backout onto the unforgiving streets. Still, a couple of menwatched from the dormitory steps, passing a brown bagbetweenthemandsizingmeup carefullywhile Iapproached.

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    Nice car, mister, one of them said, eyeing thePorsche and showing the brown stumps of his front

    teeth. Hope its still there when you get back.Maybe you could keep aneye on it for me, Isaid, p u h goutacoupleofbills. Partofmewonderedwhatthe manwouldthi nk if1 told hi mthat a stolen car w a s among the least of myconcerns. Also, erhaps you could answer a couple ofquestions. W h o uns the shelter here?

    FatherAdams, one of the other I

    a share of the cash. Tall black guy wiGood man. Fine man, the transirllr w l u l U I C u l u w l l

    teeth interjected. Been here for years. Didnt see him thismorning, though. Wasnt at breakfast leading the prayers.

    Maybe something important came up, I replied, feel-ingacoldwaveofdread. Were hetwoofyouherelastnightight?

    Both men nodded. Most of the time, anyway,Brown Teeth said.

    Did anyone come i n last night, maybe later on, afterlights out? A young man, perhaps?

    Thetwo menlookedthoughtful. ThenBrownTeethsaid,Yeah, now that you mention it, there was some kind ofcommotion late last night. I guess around one oclock r so.Iwassneakingasmokeinthejohn, ndwhen1 came out therewas a lady o n her knees in the lobbywith her arms around thisp l y id. Father Adam was there, and she was talkille tohitchtmtTe

    6dogs after scraps of meat, but something in my expres-sion gave them pause. Brown Teeth took the moneygingerly, his sallow cheeks suddenly pale.

    I passed through the lobby where mother and boy hadbeen only hours before and found avolunteer mopping the

    cafeteria floor. With a few quick words he was off o findFather Adams, leaving me to pace the cracked tile floor andstudythepsalmspaintedonthe cinderblockwalls. The place

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    I4

    ER

    Y ,E

    smeIIed of bIeach and disinfectant, and the cheap cafeteriatables were gouged and scarred fromyears of hard use. Such

    was the face of the twenty-first century church.Long minutes passed before Father Adams appeared.Tru e to his description, he was all and lanky, easily six-two, with gray hair and wide, dark eyes. The skin aroundhis eyes and mouth w a s deeply lined with fatigue. Aweight seemed to bear down on him, sloping his shoul-ders and slowing his stride. Can I help you?

    I received a call late last night. You have a young manhere in your care? I said, putting on a friendly smile. Hewas tired. I expected hi m to make assumptions.

    Adamss face brightened slightly. I think this has tobe a record. The last time I called Social Services it tookthem two weeks to send someone.

    And how is he?The weariness returned to the mans face. Hes ...

    resting, I suppose you could say. Maybe Id just better letyou take a look and tell me what you think.

    Adams led me back through a service door and up aflight o f worn concrete steps into the church proper. Heleaned against the metal stair rail and stepped with care.

    You look familiar, he said, concentrating on his move-ments. Have I seen you around here before?You must be thi nki ng of someone else, I said. We

    crossed the threshold into the church proper. The paneledhalls were dimly lit, and the carpeted floor swallowed o u rfootsteps. The place had a kind of threadbare sanctity o it,like a vestment rubbed to shiny atters with use and age.

    I guess you must come from uptown somewhere, hesaid, eyeing me over his shoulder. Not many socialworkers can afford tailored suits.

    About the boy, Father Adams.. .Ofcourse. Hismotherbrought himinearlythismorn-

    ing. Shes been a regular here at the shelter for a number ofyears, and I know her and her son well. Her husband is analcoholic, and physically abusive-primarily to his son. Theboy hasnt been officially evaluated, but I thi nk hes autistic.Hes a sweet kid, God bless hi m At least, until yesterday.

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    What happened?Well, fromwhat themothersaid, herhusbandgot drunk

    and started hitting the boy. Knocked the poor kid out, thenwent to workonhiswife. Thatswhen t supposedly happened.

    It?Adams paused, considering his words carefully. She

    said that when her son opened his eyes again there was ademon inside him.

    Once again I felt a touch of dread. Why did she say

    a demon?T h e man shook his head. Shes a very religiouswoman, you must understand. And she said her sonsnarled like a wolf and f l e wacross the room at his father.Evidently the mans seriously hurt. She didntwant to seeher son taken to jail, so she brought him here, hoping Icould help. Adams shook his head. I told her I would

    do what I could, then called Social Services. Obviouslythe poor boy needs serious psychiatric care.

    You never considered performing an exorcism?Th e words came tumbling out before I could stop them.The dread sank deep in to my bones.

    Adams stared incredulously. No. didnt.O f course not, I said, struggling to smile.Wedgone pastthe chapel proper andwere nowinthe rear

    portion of the church where the apartments for the clergywere. The hallway looked little used. Part of me wonderedhow long Father Adams had served the congregation done.He restedadarkhand onanoldbrass doorknob. Im hopingto get hi minto a state facility today, ifat all possible, he said.Tomorrow is my last dayhere, you understand, so I need toget dungs in order as soon as possible.

    He pushed the door open. I found myself fded withanurge to pray. For myself. For Father Adams. For thefuture of the world. But who was there o listen?

    A fav rays of rrty yellow mdght leaked through thecurtainsonthe othersideofthebedroom, slan-downupon

    then:Shodback i

    3z

    *z

    .BXm

    mz

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    Whats his name? I asked.Michael, Father Adams sal

    name will haunt me until the e t - _ _Father Adams stepped aside. I walked over to Michael,

    studymghis eveq m m . His backwas to me, but I could see thetensionco+themusclesdownthesidesofhisneck. Buttherewasnosenseofpower, nopreternaturalpoise. Idaredtohope.

    Hello, Michael, Isaidsoftly, heelmgathisside. Hetook

    no notice of me, staring at the water-stained plaster wall. Oldscars lined his face and neck, and a livid purple bruise discol-oringhis cheek. I reachedforhis shoulder, thenthoughtbetterof it. Father Adams ays youve had a pretty tough time, Icontinued. Would you like to tell me about it?

    His eyes flickered slightly at the sound of my voice,but that was all. He continued to mutter, so low Icouldnt make out what he said.

    I fought the urge to laugh at t

    Michael, can you hear me?Stillnoresponse. Nosense ofpotency, no ancientpresence

    gleamingin he depths of his eyes. He seems catatonic, I saidto FatherAdams, unsurehowtocontinuewiththe charade. O nimpulse, I rested my hand on the boys shoulder.

    Michael howled, his back arching-and his head thrustback. Free The words came out as a liquid growl, as if apanther could speak. The sound was anydung but human.

    Like a blur , the boy jumped, turning i n the air, untilhe crouched like a spider, his back to the ceiling in theupper part of the corner. His jaw gaped and his eyes

    gleamed yellow like a wolfs. The demon howled again.Woe to this misbegotten place Woe to the one whobetrayed us We will find him He cannot hide

    Suddenly a charnel wind rose in the room, reeking ofdeath and decay. I leapt for the door, scrambhg on handsand knees while lamps, ashtrays and s m a l l pieces of furniturewere caught up in a cyclone and smashed against the walls.

    Father Adams staggered into the hal l behind me, gasp-ing at the stench. The demons laughter curdled the airuntil a sudden draft slammed the wooden door shut.

    Where is he, that Prince of Lies ?

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    I ran. I didnt know where I was going, only that I had toget away. Father Adams houted after me, but I paid hi mnoheed. There was nodung but the sick sense of dread andshamedrivingmeon, pushingmebughonedoomyafteranother. Ive W e d once more, ran he litany in my head.

    Before I knew it, I found myself inside the tinychapel. Theairhungheavyinthe~-ceilinged~m.Ifanything,itwasgloomier than the rest of the buildmg. The taU stained-windomopposite he oldden cr uc if rx wer e coveredinlayers

    of grime letting only a few rays of red bleed through. The bghtfell like a sheen of blood over the frozen miserv of the Messiah.I fell to my knees, clutching a

    Adams was right behind me. Cgasped. What w a s that? What ha

    l1 tc

    woman was right. Her son is possessed by a demon. Hell

    no longer holds the fallen. I wanted to scream. I wantedto blow the building to pieces and me with it. But thepower wasnt there. Id seen to that, hadnt I?

    Father Adams didnt r e d v at first. When I looked

    She was right, I said th roup L l c l l C l l c u L c c C 1 1 .

    What can we do? he said plaintKill him. D o it quickly beforc

    itrength.You ant be serious Adams

    I ,

    back at him, he was staring up at the image of Christ.iv(3 t

    6

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