3:24 am, 12 April 2009
Manchester, New Hampshire

The message was left in that tone of voice that suggested that something was amiss. Clayton slid open the panel to the back room of Stark Raving Mad.

The old, scarred table showed wear from several meetings of the Kindred of New Hampshire, from even before it was a Domain. Claw-marks, some burn marks, several divots, and a neat semi-circle of teeth-marks. Clayton absently let his hand trail over the well-varnished surface as he walked over to the cabinet and opened it up. He turned on the television and slipped the tape in, then stuck his hands in his pockets and sat down on the edge of the table.

Clayton frowned, the flickering light from the television the only light in the room.

Very disturbing. The video was troubling enough, but the snatch of conversation that the emergency systems recorded while the stop button in the elevator was pulled out made it all even worse.

Stalking in Elysium. All but threatening the Sheriff.

Most Ventrue in Manchester did not last for a long time. George certainly didn't. Rebecca, regrettably, moved away as well. Clyde was serving his purpose--more or less--up in Concord. Really, they left more rapidly than most Tremere.

But there was something wrong with this one. She was not behaving like a benificent Ventrue Elder. Spying in Elysium? Challenging the hierarchy? Those were games neonates and Tremere might play. There would be no reason for a Ventrue Elder who meant no harm to play them, unless...

...unless she was up to something inimical to Praxis.

Clayton turned around and picked up the phone in the middle of the table.

"Timkin? I need to speak with Lady Hand-Seinn at her soonest convenience. I believe we need to discuss the matter in person."