Midnight Gravity  |  Episode 10: Crossroads
Companion Piece by Jonas Tintenseher

A shadow slipped between a group of giggling college students in ugly sweaters and a trio of Navy cadets. None of them heard a thing; shadows are silent, after all.
The shadow fell in line behind a family of East Coast gadabouts about to descend on a tour of the Underground. Their guide cracked a joke about the unusually warm winter weather, eliciting a chorus of embarrassed laughter. None of them spotted the shadow trailing behind them; that is what shadows do, after all.
Once they’d made it down the narrow stairs and set off on their tour, the shadow broke away, stealing down a side passage and out of sight of any other interlopers. Outside the renovated, tour-friendly heart of the Underground lay many more miles of abandoned tunnels and storefronts that hadn’t seen sunlight in decades. The shadow felt at home down here, having something in common with the old stones; shadows and sunlight don’t mix, after all.
But somewhere beyond the mapped Underground, beyond the edges of Pioneer Square, cobblestones gave way to solid rock, architecture gave way to archaeology, and a rational understanding of spatial geometry gave way to the Sprawl. All sense of time was lost, all sense of direction twisted and knotted together like thousands of concentric spiderwebs. Here, far from the sky, far from life and light and the faint smell of fish permeating the air, three shadows came together, shedding the darkness as one.
Shadows are silent, after all.
“Thanks for coming, guys. Good timing, too,” said the first shadow. Terrence Gronch clapped his hands in appreciation. “Everyone popping up at once like that? You’d think we were Malkavians.”
“I’ve been here for four hours,” sniffed the second shadow. Jimmy McKinley sucked on his teeth, pushing at a loose molar with his tongue.
“How would you even know, Curly?” asked the third shadow. Leslie Allison slipped her rotted hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “I spent, like, four days down here once. Came up and it had only been twenty minutes. My smartwatch don’t even work this far out.”
The mostly bald Jimmy folded his arms, unable to come up with a quick retort. “Yeah, well...don’t call me Curly, you...noseless freak.”
“Says the melted wax dummy.”
“Guys, c’mon. Focus,” said Gronch. His own personal archive of insults echoed in his head: Pond scum! Cueball! Filthy rat-faced abomination! “Don’t we get enough of that from everyone else?”
The two younger Nosferatu leered at each other, but they refrained from lobbing additional insults. Both turned back toward their primogen, awaiting the reason they had gathered in the Sprawl.
“Alright, so, again, thanks for joining me. Is Pox coming?” asked Gronch.
“Iunno. Haven’t talked to her in months. ‘Sides, she doesn’t like goin’ out much,” said Jimmy. “What about Rousker?” He nodded at Leslie, Rousker’s childe.
“He’s out of town,” said Gronch. “Taking care of a personal favor for me. And Snake and Garrett bowed out, so I guess it’s just the three of us.” He shrugged and rubbed his hands together. “That’s cool. Totally cool. Three’s a crowd. Alright, c’mon. Follow me. And stay close. There’s no telling what you might run into if you get lost down here.”
“Yeah, yeah, Wart, we know the drill,” grumbled Jimmy as he began to trudge after the primogen.

“Why you gotta be such a grouse?” asked Leslie, some distance behind.
Jimmy sucked his teeth. “Same reason you gotta be such a...a...uh...”
“Try ‘noseless freak’ again, that one hurt,” said Leslie.
“Oh, you want me to make it hurt, do ya?” growled Jimmy, balling up his fists.
“Guys! Seriously! Did you die yesterday? You should know better. Now knock it off,” said Gronch, stopping in his tracks to point a finger at them. “And pay attention. Any moment, you could trip and fall, and we’d never see you again.”
The Nosferatu shuffled their feet, avoiding his gaze.
“Apologize,” said the primogen.
“...Sorry, Wart,” muttered Jimmy.
“Yeah, sorry, Wart,” said Leslie, somewhat more sincerely.
“Not to me! To each other!” Gronch threw his hands in the air and resumed walking. “Why do I even...”
After a moment’s hesitation, Jimmy and Leslie followed. Keeping his ears open, Gronch just barely made out a pair of mumbled apologies and the gentle scuffle of elbows shoving each other. He decided to let it slide.
The other unusual thing about the Sprawl, compared to, say, Zelios’s handiwork, was that it was natural. As best as Gronch could figure, no one had built these tunnels — they’d grown. Placement-wise, they should realistically be intersecting with Seattle’s sewers and even opening up into Elliott Bay. Instead, they just seemed to sprawl infinitely outward and down, hence the name, and their gradual changes almost made them harder to navigate than if they were in total chaos — you’d take the same path five nights in a row, but end up in a totally different place on the sixth.
After years of careful probing, though, Gronch finally felt like he’d gotten the hang of navigating the Sprawl. You had to let the tunnels guide you. You might end up taking the long way ‘round, but you’d get where you were going...eventually.
A sudden chill told him he was on the right path. Gronch clicked his tongue at the others and took a sharp left, slipping from the rocky caverns they’d been trekking through into a tunnel of mottled, greying bricks. They might have reconnected with a distant part of the normal Underground, or it might have been a tendril of the Sprawl that just so happened to resemble a Victorian sewer — a form of architectural evolutionary mimicry, maybe? Gronch wasn’t sure where the Sprawl would have picked up the concept, but he’d seen far stranger things in his time.
The tunnel opened up into an unusually tall cistern. An inch of grimy water covered the floor, reflecting the greenish glow of the buzzing tube-lights embedded in the walls and caged with rusted iron. The smell wasn’t too bad — mildew, for sure, and the distant whiff of sulfur, but not the overpowering stench of waste that one might expect. About fifty feet ahead, the vaulted ceiling curved down into the far wall and split into four identical passages that extended straight forward into blackness.
“This is the place,” breathed Gronch.

Nothing about the room was particularly remarkable, or even ominous — at least, not compared to the rest of the Sprawl. Still, the combination of the arched ceiling and the light reflecting off the water onto the walls made the cistern seem to loom much taller and wider than its construction would allow.
Jimmy and Leslie recoiled when they stepped into the water; Gronch had neglected to warn them to wear thick boots. The two of them sidled up next to their primogen, taking in the room around them for the first time.
“What is this place?” asked Jimmy. “Are we back in the sewers?”
“No way. It smells way too nice,” said Leslie.
“How would you know?” muttered Jimmy. Gronch shot him a look, and he didn’t continue.
“I call it...the Crossroads,” said the primogen. “Seems stable. Mostly. The lights change color every now and then.”
“Looks like those tunnels all go the same way. I’m guessing you’ve checked them out already?” asked Leslie.
“Not all of them. Not yet. That’s why I wanted to clue you guys in. In case something happens to me while I’m spelunking,” said Gronch.
Jimmy shrugged. “Whatever, it’s just another sewer. Got nothing on New York.”
“I’ve been to New York. I know what’s under New York. Or what was, anyway,” said Gronch. He moved closer to the outgoing tunnels, beckoning his clanmates to follow. “Believe me. It gets weirder.”
The three of them gathered in front of the rightmost passage. The cloudy water around their feet trickled past them down the barest of inclines. Cool air flowed in the opposite direction, and just a few feet out in the darkness, patches of frost began to interrupt the thin, grimy film on the water’s surface.
Without another word, Gronch started walking.
“Are we all going?” asked Jimmy.
Gronch waved an affirmative hand.
“What if something happens to all three of us? Then no one will know,” said Leslie.
But the primogen was gone, swallowed by darkness.
Leslie only hesitated for a moment more before shrugging and heading in. Jimmy hung back for an extra few seconds, hemming and hawing, before eventually getting skeeved out by the buzzing lights and darting in after them.
Their splashing footsteps grew quieter as the tunnel went on, eventually transforming into the light crunch of sole on snow. Gronch barely noticed the cold, even as the temperature plummeted; being dead had its perks. He thought he could hear one of the others’ teeth chattering, though.
Then, like stepping through a curtain, the three Nosferatu emerged at the top of a steep cliff jutting out over a wintry pine forest. Broad, round-peaked mountains extended in every direction. It was still night out, thankfully; the hills were illuminated by the light of the stars and the waxing moon, now almost centered in the sky.
Behind them, where there had been a tunnel just moments ago, there stood a cozy log cabin, strung up with multicolored fairy lights. The generator out back rumbled along, powering the lights, but the windows were dark. There was no other sign of civilization, no sign of human life — or of other Kindred, for that matter — anywhere in sight.

“Have you told the Prince?” asked Leslie, as Jimmy sputtered and brushed the snow off his face.
“I told him I was looking into it. Don’t wanna say more until I get a better idea of how it works, and where those other tunnels go. That’s why you’re here.” Gronch spread his arms out wide, as if presenting a show. “Something happens to me, and you lucky licks are the ones who get to tell Cross. Merry Christmas, eh?”
“Yeah, more responsibilities. Real nice gift,” grumbled Jimmy.
“And in the meantime, you guys are free to poke around down there. Just let me know if you find anything — and don’t tell anyone without my say. Got it? Clan privilege,” said Gronch.
“Got it, Wart,” said Jimmy.
“Yeah, boss,” said Leslie.
Jimmy crouched at the edge of the cliff, peering into the dark forest below. “Any idea why it lets out here, specifically?” he asked, scratching the side of his head. Huge flakes of dead skin came off under his fingernails, drifting down to settle in a snowbank.
“Couple things knockin’ around in here, but I’m not sure,” said Gronch, tapping his temple with a crooked finger. “But if we can safely map out the other paths, maybe we’ll get an answer.”
“And we didn’t even have to go that deep to reach the, uh, Crossroads,” murmured Jimmy. “Who knows what else there might be down there? Way down there...?”
The snowdrift under Jimmy’s feet crinkled and shifted as the Nos adjusted his weight. A tingle ran down Gronch’s spine.
“Hey, Jimmy, you wanna back off the edge, there?” he said, taking a cautious step forward. “I think it might —”
As Jimmy stood to acquiesce, the snow gave way, and he toppled backward over the cliff.
Gronch lunged forward, extending both hands in desperation, but his reflexes and his legs both ran at normal human speeds — there was no way he’d reach the edge in time. At best, he might pluck one of Jimmy’s few remaining hairs before watching him plummet into the trees.
But in the blink of an eye it took for him to process that thought, Leslie appeared at Jimmy’s side, grabbed him by the wrist, and yanked him onto sturdier ground. The two of them toppled into the snow, and Gronch hurriedly helped them back to their feet.
“Careful. Coulda made a nice smear on the rocks,” said Leslie.
“Or staked yourself on a tree,” said Gronch.
“We’re not that high up. I’d’ve been fine,” said Jimmy.
“You might have survived, sure, but then we’d have to figure out some way to haul your torpid ass back home before dawn,” said Gronch. “You’re lucky Leslie caught you.”
“...Well, thanks, I guess,” grumbled Jimmy. “But I’m not owing you anything.”
“You’re welcome,” said Leslie jovially. “Hey, Wart, speaking of home...how do we...get back?”
The other two turned to follow her gaze, staring at the cabin behind them. “Ah, the cellar door wraps back around,” said Gronch. “But...hold on. One last thing I want to do first.”
Calling on the Blood to silence his movements, Gronch pulled open the cabin door and slipped inside. The interior was just one big room, with a hand-woven rug spread over most of the center, a kitchenette in one corner, a cold brick fireplace on one wall and a four-post bed opposite. The covers rose and fell a few inches, a pair of slumbering forms snoring underneath — ​​with the three-hour time difference, it must have been past midnight.
In front of the fireplace was a short, sparsely decorated pine tree, with a woolen skirt to catch falling needles. Resting on the skirt were three items: an five-inch-tall, intricately carved wooden nutcracker; a pair of brand-new leather hiking boots; and a new iPhone, still in its box. Gronch spied a roll of unused wrapping paper sticking out from under the bed and smiled to himself.
He wasn’t interested in any of the nice gifts, though. Instead, still shrouded in silence, he circled around the back of the tree and lifted a single ornament, one of maybe a dozen hanging from the branches. His prize was a delicate glass unicorn, a thin composition painted to resemble stained glass, with a golden horn and a glittering pink mane.
Gronch stowed the unicorn in an inside pocket of his coat, glanced around to make sure there was no other sign of his intrusion, and retreated out into the snow to rejoin his clanmates.
“Can we go, yet? I’m freezing,” said Jimmy.
“Yeah. This way,” said Gronch.
The primogen led them around the back of the cabin, where a pair of cellar doors, somewhat worse for wear than the rest of the edifice, concealed the passageway back to Seattle. Gronch pulled a door up and gestured for his companions to go ahead of him.
“Hold up. Is there someone alive in there?” asked Leslie. “I could use a snack before we go back.”
Gronch shook his head. “No. No feeding. I don’t want to come back and find a whole search-and-rescue team crawling all over this place, wondering what coulda killed the happy couple on vacation. It’s remote, but I’m not taking any chances.”
Leslie didn’t protest as she trundled down into the cellar, but Gronch did hear her mumble, “I mean...I wasn’t gonna kill ‘em...just take a little sip...”
Gronch inclined his head toward the other Nos. “C’mon, let’s get outta here.”
“This place weirds me out,” said Jimmy. “Maybe we should just leave it be. For now. And also forever.”
“Are you kidding? This could be one of the greatest discoveries our clan has ever made,” said Gronch. “And you’d give that up just ‘cause it’s a little freaky? What kinda Nos are you?”
“Still walkin’,” said Jimmy, but he, too, descended into the cellar.
Gronch took one last look at the beautiful snowy vista before he followed after them.
The cellar was cramped with shelves full of spare supplies — water purification tablets, toilet paper, gas for a camping stove. Gronch weaved around toward the darkest corner, and again summoned the Blood to hide him from sight. “Cover yourselves up,” he said to the others. “Easier to get through that way.”
Leslie and Jimmy followed his lead, and the three Nosferatu pushed past the gloomy veil that swiftly obscured the cellar behind them.
“There’s no telling where we’ll let out,” called Gronch, making sure his voice would carry through the weighty darkness. “Sometimes it’s back at the Crossroads. Other times, random corners of the Sprawl, or even up on the surface. Just keep your heads on. For a little while longer.”
The sound of their footsteps shifted again, echoing off of wood, crunching through snow, splashing through water, before settling on stone — or concrete. The silent pressure on Gronch’s ears cracked and crumbled to let in the low hum of cars in motion, the distant bustle of the city’s nightlife, the occasional shout of joy and peal of laughter, and the tinny tune of canned holiday music streaming out of a nearby bar.

The air around them hissed like a breath escaping a sealed bottle as they emerged in a cluttered alley, somewhere in...Capitol Hill, Gronch knew at a glance. Despite his warning, Leslie and Jimmy hadn’t expected the slight change in elevation, and both of them stumbled forward as they exited the dark tunnel.
“You guys good?” he asked, once they’d recovered their balance. “All your bits still attached? Anyone feel like their head’s spinning?”
“Always,” said Leslie, grinning. “That was cool as shit, Wart. Thanks for the invite. I’m definitely gonna explore a bit more down there. Hit you up ASAP if I find anything.”
“Glad to hear it, Leslie. Go on, find yourself someone to drink,” said Gronch. He clapped his young cousin on the shoulder, and she replied in kind before leaving the alley, turning left down the street to pursue one of those trails of laughter.
Jimmy leaned up against a dumpster, arms folded, flicking his tongue against his teeth. “Still feels dangerous,” he said. “But if we could, like, colonize it...”
“You’re starting to see the big picture,” said Gronch.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Jimmy, waving him off. “Whatever. Not my bag. Thanks for showing me, I guess. I’ll see you around.”
“See you around, Jimmy,” said Gronch. He offered a hand, but Jimmy didn’t take it. He leapt up onto the fire escape in a single bound, skittering up to the rooftops and disappearing just as a cloud scrolled in front of the glowing moon.
For Gronch’s part, he felt pretty good. Jimmy had been a huge wet blanket, as usual, but the primogen trusted his clanmates to keep the Crossroads a secret. Plus, he was terrifically excited to find out what else they might discover, now that he wasn’t the only one looking.
He pulled up his hood and headed in the opposite direction from Leslie. It only took him a few minutes to find the right building — as if the Wunderground had known where he’d wanted to go next, and took care to drop them off closeby. Maybe it was a lucky coincidence...or maybe, as he was getting to know the Sprawl, the Sprawl was getting to know him, too.
Third floor, first on the left. The window was dark. Quiet as a fly, Gronch clambered up on a drain pipe, jimmied the window open with a calcified fingernail, and poked his head in to make sure the room’s occupant was asleep. The shape on the bed wasn’t moving, so he pulled out the glass unicorn and put it on the desk below the window, careful not to make a sound as he set it down. He briefly considered snagging a sticky note to write a message — just a little Merry Christmas or something — but thought better of it. No need to take any extra risks.
With perfect finesse, Gronch lowered the window into place, shimmied down the pipe, and went on his merry way, hands in his pockets, unbeating heart twitching inside his icy, bloodless chest.
A moment too late, the figure in the bed whipped her head out from under the covers, phone flashlight at the ready, aiming directly at the window — but there was nothing there. Her room looked exactly as it had when she’d crawled into bed...apart from the strange glass ornament on top of her half-finished chemistry homework.
Uncertain, she got up out of bed and pushed her window open, searching for any sign of the mysterious gift-giver. There were a few people on the street, but none of them were close enough. She thought she spotted someone disappearing around the corner of the building — but then her eyes adjusted to the light, and she could tell it was just another shadow.

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