Canticles of the Prophet Zachariah:

Sunday in the Park with George

Notes by Anthony

“It was 3 AM by the time we got back to the Temple. I tried to catch Ben’s eye as we unloaded the trucks, but he stuck to Comet like glue and wouldn’t look at me. I wanted to tell him there was nothing to be ashamed of, but I didn’t know how. What could I have said, listeners? “Thanks for hurting someone to stay alive? I’m glad you’re a monster like me so I’m not alone? You’re so brave for sucking that trucker’s di–blood? That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen: can you do that to me, please? I keep putting my foot in my mouth, can I put your tongue in there, instead?” Fortunately, Gwen interceded before my impulse control failed, calling me over to her new Xerox machine. She stared as it scanned her face, its green light turning her gaunt features skeletal. She’d bought it to copy the Enochian maps, as we were to give Sascha one in a few days. 

“I was grateful for the excuse to leave as I followed her downstairs, though my relief faded as we walked down the long hallway to Ashûr’s room. I knew what we’d find inside, but it was still a shock to see George lying like a corpse on the stone slab. His slack mouth and bulging eyes betrayed none of the shrewd intelligence I’d grown to rely on and fear in equal measure. Gwen’s skeletons surrounded him. Even in this state, we’d be fools to underestimate him.

“Gwen interrupted my wandering thoughts. “Good, good” she said as she shrugged on a wool coat, “I was hoping you would help me interrogate him.” I think the sound I let out was something between an indignant squawk and a hysterical giggle. But she was right, listeners. George had been inside Andrews Air Force Base. He’d know how we could get in and out. He might even know where they were keeping Diane. We had to make him talk.

“Gwen tossed me a pair of handcuffs. I tightened them around his wrists, careful to not jostle the stake buried in his chest. Gwen pulled out a drill and spun it up, but I convinced her to let me try the “good cop” routine first. I didn’t think physical torture would work on an agent like George, anyway. Her skeletons held him down as I pulled the stake. 

“George’s eyes rolled wildly as he spasmed under the skeletons’ bony hands. He looked crazed. Feral. I hated seeing him like this. If George had been in control, he would’ve done some Rambo shit to break free of the handcuffs and dismantle the skeletons bone by bone. But the Beast was in the driver’s seat, and all it could think about was the Hunger.

“I took George’s hand in mine and squeezed as I reached out with telepathy. “Hey! Listen to me! If you have anything you want to say, now is the time!” George’s eyes locked on mine, and the rage subsided into an eerie calm. Instead of George, though, it was Birthday who responded. I asked him what had happened. It wasn’t the information we needed, and I doubt Gwen cared, but Birthday deserved to have someone listen to the end of his story. 

“After Birthday left the Graveyard, he went to alert Alexander to the crazy vampires moving in next door. On the way, George had ambushed him. Birthday pleaded for his life, but George hadn’t listened. He’d drained Birthday dry and then kept going. I told him I was sorry. It felt inadequate. Birthday was a casualty of a war far bigger than him. 

“Birthday’s gravelly smoker’s laugh filled my mind. George had bitten off far more than he could chew. The diablerized souls might have been lost in an endless darkness, but they still had voices. They hadn’t united to defeat George; this wasn’t an episode of the Care Bears. Instead, they sat like spoiling meat inside George’s mind, poisoning him from within. George might’ve killed them, but they were taking him down with them. 

“I asked Birthday if there was anything I could do. Letitia’s soft brown eyes filled my thoughts as his mental voice turned wistful. “Tell her…tell her she’s not as pretty as she thinks she is. Just joking. Always had a crush on her. Tell her there is 200k buried under the tree at 4264 Oak Street. Don’t tell her it came from me.” I promised, though I knew I would tell Letitia it had come from Birthday. I asked if he could help calm George down or stop him from attacking us. Birthday said he would try, but what they needed was blood. The Beast was too hungry for any of them to speak. I nodded and let the connection fade. I poked a hole in a blood bag and poured it into George’s mouth. He drank hungrily as awareness returned to his eyes. 

“George’s attention was drawn to Gwen. He recognized her as a Giovanni, though between the Italian accent and the animated skeletons, I doubt it had been a hard guess. He threatened her, saying the Giovanni had broken the rules by harboring fugitives and attacking an agent of the Tremere. There would be nothing to protect them now from the wrath of the Camarilla. 

“Gwen set a vinyl on the record player. Frank Sinatra’s cheerful baritone on “Come Fly Away” issued forth. Gwen asked: “Do you like Frank Sinatra?” George laughed. “He was too good at singing to be a human.” I picked my jaw off the floor for the second time that night. Frank Sinatra wasn’t human? Had he been Embraced? He’s clearly aged though, right? Last I heard, he was at home with health issues. If you have any information or theories regarding Mr. Sinatra’s retirement or encounters with the supernatural, please call in during our next commercial break.

“Gwen didn’t let this revelation phase her. She pressed the tip of the drill against her finger. “You should answer Zachary’s questions to the best of your ability. If not, you’ll find I can make those I send to the other side talk just as easily.” George grinned with bloody teeth and said: “do your worst, though I find it hard to believe you’d risk open warfare like this.”

“This was quickly spiraling out of control. I tried to refocus the conversation. We’d never break him physically, and I didn’t think what was left of my humanity would survive the attempt. I tried to convince George that the Giovanni were helping us save the world. George knew me. He knew Gehenna was real. We were working together to stop it. He should be on our side.

“George shook his head. “The Tremere have kept the Camarilla safe for hundreds of years. Our system has lasted for a reason. And you want to bring that all to an end?” George glanced at my forehead before meeting my eyes. “I have seen the horror in you. You carry this evil.” George looked at me with pity. Like I was a monster who had forgotten it was only wearing human skin. “Listen to me, Zachariah. Whatever is rooting around in your head is dangerous. What if you are the cause of the visions you see? If there is anything human that remains in you, come with me.” 

“My vision blurred. George was speaking aloud every doubt and fear I had in myself. Was I so sure that I was right? If I couldn’t trust my own mind, how could I have faith in my future self? Was I even Zachary? Or was I just a puppet of the Antediluvian in my head as he pretended to be human until he got bored? George’s hand shifted beneath me. For a moment, I thought he was squeezing my hand in comfort. Then I felt a tendril curl around my little finger. 

“I let his hand go in disgust. Maybe George was right. I couldn’t trust myself. But that is why I had my friends around me. They kept me sane. Kept my monstrous impulses in check. But George had chosen to be alone. To become a monster. I couldn’t forget that the man trying to convince me to trust him had consumed the souls of at least three other people. 

“Still, I had to pretend George could persuade me if I wanted him to talk. “Then tell me they can stop it.” I pleaded with George. “What do they know that we don’t? Do they have a plan? You’ve seen the Red Star. Convince me the Tremere can stop it. Make a deal with me and I’ll help them.” George snarled at me. “You want to know so very much. You think George or Alazar knows? Expunge! I will end you. He does not know the half of what he thinks. Foul! Evil! Traitor!” George’s voice had changed. Was another soul taking over? George spoke as if responding to someone else: “I could never betray the Clan that has given me everything.”

Gwen took this moment of weakness to strike: “You couldn’t? Is that what you said when you diablerized your clanmate?” George’s face twisted as he screamed in agony. Several emotions warred across his face. I could see terror, joy, sorrow, and anger. The scream turned into a roar of rage as the angry voice spoke again. It was deeper than George’s, and the accent was American. “I will kill him and I will say nothing! We shall expunge you entirely!” Gwen tried to get this soul to talk, but he kept repeating the same phrases. We guessed that this was Agent Number Three. 

“George’s face smoothed into a placid mask as a third voice called out: “such a busy place in this body!” The voice was soft and spoke at a higher pitch than George or Number Three. It seemed to take a curious amusement at the suffering around it. As a reminder for our dear listeners, George’s first diablerie victim was one Dr. Gavreaux, a Sabbat Tzimisce whose first appearance in this tale was staking Joan at Gallaudet University on the night of the Sabbat Invasion.

“Gwen said: “Dr. Gavreaux, I presume? Please, tell me, how did one such as yourself get taken over by George?” Gwen’s voice was deferential, though it was hard to tell if she was sincere. Dr. Gavreaux responded, his voice still measured but taking on a hint of melodrama: “I am tortured by this. How could one such as he could take me? I must redeem myself. If there is anything I can do for you to defeat him and this evil clan, please, allow me.” The soft smile on George’s face looked utterly alien. Gwen spoke: “he may have devoured you, but he has not defeated you. There may yet be an opportunity for you to exact vengeance on his clan, even after your untimely departure. We need information on the Chantry.” Dr. Gavreaux apologized that he could not give us the information directly. Every Tremere operative the Sabbat captured had died before talking. But while Dr. Gavreaux could not access George’s memories, he would push George from within. 

“The eerily calm smile froze. George was back and trying to put the pieces together from what he’d missed. He’d lost control of his body. I could tell that terrified him, though he tried not to show it. I tried to be reassuring as I said: “George, listen to me. It’s been a…trying night for you. There are a lot of voices in your head right now. I know what that’s like more than just about anyone. Let me help you.” George let out a dry, bitter laugh. “I met the voice inside you when I tasted your blood. I reported you for what you are. You, Zachary, are the end of the world. I beg of you to run out to the sun, today.” 

“The edges of my vision went red and blurry. I was trying to push down the lump in my throat as Gwen said: “Coward. All you do is out of fear. It drives you. You only want to be stronger so that you are not preyed upon by those who are stronger and better. You are swollen with creatures all greater than you. They will consume you from the inside out.” George’s eyes flooded red as the Beast snarled at Gwen and struggled against the skeletons. After a moment, George lay back down against the stone slab. “I apologize for my…little outburst.” He sounded exhausted. He had very little blood in his system, and he’d just used some of it to try and break free. I took his hand in mine. His skin was paper-thin and the bones were far too light. 

“Gwen spoke: “do you believe House Tremere will take you back?” George was quiet as he responded: “I don’t know. I am dangerous, I fear. Perhaps it is too late for me. I thought I could hold it all in. But if it is too late for me, Zachary, then save the world. Go to the sun. If not, the Tremere will do what they can to stop you.” I had a realization, then. I could not convince George to help me while his faith in the Tremere held fast. But what if we could change that? 

“Let me pause the interrogation for a moment and recount a scene for you. We flashback to Gallaudet University on Monday, December 5th. George and I had just woken from nightmares. I’d dreamt of Darkness spreading from the boy with daggers in his eyes. George had dreamt of a young girl with too many wings and eyes falling into a river of fire. Thousands fell and burn in the flames, while grey men with no mouths stood trapped on basalt hexagons.

“George comforted me, guiding me back to reality like my parents used to do. It felt natural, like he’d done it before. I asked if he had a family. Turns out, George did have a wife and two kids. But one condition of his Embrace was that he would never see his family again. They’d be placed in witness protection and sent somewhere far, far away. George flexed his fingers as he counted out the years. The girl would be twenty-two now, and the boy nineteen. He hadn’t tried to look for them, though it was well within his magical and mundane abilities. Perhaps that had been another loyalty test. I promised George that if he ever changed his mind, I’d help him find his family. 

“Knowing what I do now of the Tremere, I had a sinking feeling in pool of blood that pretended to be my stomach. I said: “What if you can’t trust the Tremere? What if they lied to you, too? George, back at Gallaudet I promised you I’d help you find your family. I didn’t have a way to do so then, but now I do. Gwen can tell if anyone is alive or dead with just a name. She did the same with my mom when –” I cut myself off, remembering the nightmare of George visiting her house in Baltimore. That hadn’t been true vision. I continued: “when I got scared someone had hurt my family. At least this way you’ll know if they’re okay or not.” George was quiet for a long, long moment. “My wife. Eden Makonnen. It was a life before this one. I was entirely different.” I think he was trying to convince himself of that more than us.

“I watched, mesmerized, as Gwen sliced her finger with a scalpel and traced Eden’s name upon a flat, grey stone she’d kept in her pocket. Gwen set the stone on the floor, closed her eyes, and circled around it. It wasn’t quite a dance; the movements were too precise for that. It was as if she were drawing invisible symbols with her feet and hands. A few minutes later, she stopped and stared just above George’s left shoulder. Then she grinned and drove a stake into George’s heart.

“At Gwen’s direction, I carried George’s limp body up the stairs. The rising sun weighed heavily on my shoulders. We only had a few minutes left of the night. I followed Gwen to the Control room, where she sliced her hand on the symbol for the Plane of Death. The Temple groaned as it shifted, and once again we were in that dismal, grey realm. At once, I could feel the sun’s grip on me lessen. I lay George on the ground outside, just beside the withered corn. Gwen leered over him, saying: “Look George, isn’t it dreadful? The land of the Dead.” Gwen cut open a blood bag and poured some into his mouth before pulling the stake from his chest.

“Around us stood three ghosts. I recognized Prentiss and Paolo. Prentiss smiled a familiar, heartless smile, though for once it wasn’t directed at another Malkavian. Instead, her gaze was directed at the third ghost: a beautiful, dark-skinned woman with close-cropped hair and a model-like physique. She stalked up to George and stood above his prone form. “Alazar, you bastard! What have you done to me? They killed me. You watched as they destroyed our world!” George’s eyes were wide with shock. He stammered: “I did it to save you and our children. I got us away from the Durg. You were supposed to be safe here.” Eden laughed in his face, though I could tell there was no humor in it. “Safe? Because of you, they killed me. The only thing left is our daughter. Our son killed himself because of you. How could you have left us?” George made a noise like a dying animal as his body shook with tearless sobs. He was too overwhelmed to speak.

“Gwen stepped forward, her voice eerily calm as she asked: “How did you die, Eden Makonnen?” It sounded like Gwen had mediated such disputes between the living and the dead before. Eden’s eyes flickered to Gwen before returning to her husband. “After Alazar left, they kept us in cells. We were insurance. They put the children in foster care and made them forget us. They told me I had no children. That Alazar had died in Addis Ababa. But I remembered my children. They said I was too sharp. They killed me. I did not go to Heaven. I was chained to his body. I watched his every move. Then I escaped. My only joy was to watch my children.” 

“Eden spat at George. Though nothing physical left her lips, he flinched as though it had. She turned to Gwen and yelled: “I will not let you have them!” Gwen’s hands grasped at the air as though she pulled an invisible thread and said: “Oh, but you will tell me.” Eden writhed as though Gwen were rearranging her organs. Eden spoke through gritted teeth: “My son. Teddy. He lived in Bethesda. I watched over him. I could not speak. He was angry. Lonely. Teddy killed himself with drugs. Because of you, he grew up without a father or a mother!” George shook as he cried out “Please! Forgive me!” His face shifted as conflicting emotions flashed across them. George was losing the battle against the spirits inside. An angelic grin spread across Gwen’s face. Though she spoke to Eden, she stared directly at George. “Yes, Eden. Blame Alazar. Alazar thought he was the best. He killed so many people for his country. Their ghosts followed him across the world. He sowed total destruction anywhere he went. How could anyone forgive you, Alazar?”

“George’s anguished face settled into a soft smile as Dr. Gavreaux’s laughter echoed out across the cornfield. “How could you forgive him? His mind is all terror that you cannot. I feel his love for you. It is very interesting. Like a knife pulled slowly from my chest. I shall make someone feel this one day.” Gwen tsked like a disappointed teacher as she said: “Alazar, stop hiding behind the other souls,” though it was obvious she enjoyed Dr. Gavreaux’s ability to torment George with his own tongue. I could tell it was against Dr. Gavreaux’s every instinct to let go, but he knew his only hope of survival was to prove himself a compliant asset to Gwen. 

“George resurfaced, his eyes wet and red with unshed tears as he cried out: “Listen to me, Eden, please. I –” Eden cut him off: “Your days of telling me what to do are over, Alazar. I know what you are. I know what you did.” George pleaded with her: “Please forgive me. I did it for us. I did it for you! You have broken me. What do you want from me? Anything!” Eden stepped back from his prone form. The anguish and rage faded from her face. She looked…not quite peaceful. There was too much sorrow and regret to be at peace. Resolved, maybe? Her voice was clear and firm as she announced: “I want nothing from you. I’m free.” In a flash, Eden disappeared. Gwen grasped for her and cursed in Italian, but there was nothing the necromancer could do to stop Eden from passing on. Wherever ghosts go when their unfinished business is concluded, I hope it is peaceful. Red tears fell from George’s eyes until he collapsed into torpor, having bled out the last of his life’s blood. Even the Beast’s desperation for blood could not hold a candle to his misery. 

“Gwen reached for the blood bag. I felt sick. I had wanted to show George the truth, to prove that he could not trust the Tremere. I hadn’t wanted to torture him. Yet, we had broken him all the same. When George awoke, he told us of North America Chantry 1 at Andrews Air Force Base. The Chantry lies below Hangar 13. It is well guarded in the mortal realm by ghouls. The rank and file soldiers don’t know about it, and the generals know just enough to stay the hell away. Colonel Atkinson manages the daylight operations. Diane would be kept somewhere in the Hangar. Inside the Chantry is the entrance to a pocket dimension created by the Tremere. George didn’t know of any way we could sneak in, as it required blood magic or thaumaturgy to enter. However, he said: “It would not be a problem to bring you or Benjamin in. The Pontifex himself would do anything for your safe arrival at the Chantry.” I nodded, a plan starting to form in my mind. 

“We needed to take the Lasombra device into the pocket dimension, and we needed to save Diane. Gwen and I started spit balling. If we could hide it on my person, I could turn myself in to Number Four and deploy the device in the Chantry after being escorted inside. The other team could sneak in, rescue Diane, and cover our escape. 

“I wanted to keep planning, but my head hurt. How long had it been since sunrise? There was no sun or moon, only an endless sky of sickly green and a ghostly fog that clung to our skin. How long could I avoid the nightmares? Number Three interrupted to tell us we were all traitors and should be drained of our blood and burned, followed by Dr. Gavreaux offering his aid in the destruction of our mutual enemy. Mistress Vykos would swear to his undying loyalty. Gwen told him: “don’t worry, dear, I’ll let her know  you say hi.” My vision swam. Now that George had told us all that he knew, what was next? We couldn’t keep him forever. We couldn’t let him go. We couldn’t save the souls he had consumed. There was no life for any of them here. Did we have to condemn them to death?

“George grabbed my arm. I struggled to focus on his face. There was none of that unflappable strength and ambition I had found such comfort in. Instead, he looked hollow. Like his will to live had been drained along with his blood. “Don’t forget this, Zachariah,” he whispered, voice cracking. I was not sure what he meant, listeners. Don’t forget our friendship? George himself? This brutal, bloodless interrogation? His warning that I was not just the Harbinger of Gehenna, but its architect? I wiped the bloody tears from his cheeks and I said: “I will remember everything you did.” At that moment an echo of sunlight flashed across the cornfield, and I felt myself slip into unconsciousness. The nightmares had been delayed, but they would not be denied.”