You pull your weapon, the handgun cold against your palm as you try to relax your finger along the edge off the trigger guard. Jordan looks at you worriedly, but her tense posture melts somewhat when she sees the confidence in your face. No one in Ottawa does this to a Camarilla Primogen and gets away with it. If they're mortal, they're dead. If they're Kindred they'll wish they were dead.
A door just past the landing has been left ajar, and as you watch, it creeps an inch or two wider to admit the Sheriff. You follow in his footsteps, weapon held in ready position to deal with whatever fiend lurks in the next room. The heavy wooden door is composed of six interlocking panels, each outlined by intricately carved scroll-work. The room beyond is likewise exquisitely purposeful in its design, marred only by the notable exception of Vivian Maier's crucified body suspended on the opposing wall, chest transfixed by a thick wooden stake. The Primogen's wrists are wrapped in layers of metal wire holding her aloft with the symmetric perfection of a well-loved painting. A single man in servant's attire is standing before her, his back to you. He's holding a large knife.
A snarl pulls at your dead lips as you raise your gun and aim it at the mortal who would dare profane the body of another Kindred. Before you can fire, the man turns around to face you, bringing the knife blade swiftly down toward his own chest. You act on instinct and fire a shot toward him, not with the intent of killing, but to disarm. You need answers, and a dead kine will leave you with nothing but questions.
Unfortunately your shot goes wide as the servant impales himself on the knife, using what little strength remains in his feeble arms to twist the blade. Precious blood pours from the fatal wound and he falls to the floor without a word.
"We were too late," Jordan mutters dejectedly. "But we should be able to help Vivian, right?"
Qui steps over the old man's cooling corpse and examines the macabre display. "The stake would only paralyze her. The rest is for show. Pageantry." He gestures toward the door and removes a compact camera from his pocket. "Step back. I need to document this. The Primogen Council will require answers."
Over the next fifteen minutes, the Sheriff photographs the crime scene from every angle while you and Jordan check from room to room, searching for additional evidence. You find four more bodies in servant's clothes, each of them collapsed to the floor with a residue of white foam on their lips. Poison.
You can feel Jordan grow increasingly uncomfortable as you go on. "Why would the killer poison them?" she asks. "When they could have just killed them like the butler downstairs?"