James Byrne hid the papers and made
sure that the radio was turned
off when Caitlin came into the kitchen. He wanted to
tell her himself
that Julian Luna’s plane had been destroyed by a bomb
only minutes
before her fiancé had entered it. That he had
been only a few miles from
the airport when it happened. That he was safe. That
the wreck of the
burnt-out car was found later that morning. Fortunately,
there were no
bodies.
Caitlin showed her father the letter
Julian had left for her. It
stated that he was in trouble and begged her to stay
in her father’s
house. No explanations were given. James Byrne repeated
what Julian had
told him before he left.
“The poor fellow was scared out of
his wits,” he said. “Not so much
for himself, but for you. I don’t know what he’s up against,
but I’m
putting my money on him. I think he cares for you very
much.”
Caitlin was surprised by the tenderness
in her father’s voice.
“You’ve come to like him, haven’t
you?” she asked.
The old man cocked his head.
“I must be getting soft in my old
age.” He smiled. “Yes, I like him,
but what’s more important, you like him, and he seems
to like you too.
Enough to postpone his return to San Francisco just to
come here to...
kiss you goodnight. To miss the bomb on his plane.”
“Oh, my God!” Caitlin’s eyes filled
with tears. “I didn’t
realize...” She started to cry in earnest.
Caitlin had been angry with
Julian for leaving her behind. She was
sure that he had planned it in advance and had lured
her along on this
trip out of San Francisco. Whatever trouble he was in,
it wasn’t
financial in nature. His fear and desperation were palpable,
his life
was in peril, and the bombs had confirmed that. Caitlin
resented being
kept out, but she had come under crossfire before and
was able to
understand Julian’s desperate measures to keep her out
of harm’s way. On
the other hand, she hated being parted from her lover,
and missing him
was worse than physical pain.
The memory of the scant hours they
had spent together before he had
returned to San Francisco made her sad and frightened
at the same time.
There had been something utterly desperate in the way
he had made love
to her, as if he were afraid that it was the last time
they would be
together: the brutal selfishness and the sweetest tenderness.
He would
not be deceived by her performance, and, eventually,
she had to give in,
allow him to overcome the fear and apprehension that
he had implanted in
her. Let him make her forget everything, if only for
a short moment.
Caitlin tried to call Julian every
other day but was told that he
was out of town. It surprised her because he had seldom
left San
Francisco before. When she tried to inquire for more
information, she
was told that he was on a business trip to Chicago on
one occasion, the
next time he was in Kansas City.
When he called at last, it was from
Santa Fe. She asked him what he
was doing in New Mexico and he said that he had business
problems.
“What problems?” she had asked.
“A hostile takeover,” he had answered
and laughed. He sounded
hysterical, and Caitlin didn’t think it was a laughing
matter either. He
refused to say anything more.
Julian had laughed because,
essentially, he had told her the truth.
However, the extent of the hostility would be beyond
Caitlin’s grasp.
Slowly, he was beginning to understand that it was beyond
his own grasp.
Nick Marliss was perpetually angry,
but now he was angrier than
ever.
The death of Joe was a reality that
was difficult to accept. They
had been close friends for years, fueling each other’s
anger at
virtually everything. All the evidence was there,
the autopsy had been
done, but Nick had trouble believing that a man like
Joe Montegna, who
practically lived in the woods, could be killed by some
carnivorous
animal like any other greenhorn. Besides, Joe had been
armed. There had
been nothing wrong with his rifle; a bullet had been
fired from it, but
they hadn’t found it. Nor had they found anything shot
in the ravine.
Not like Joe at all.
Nick’s Indian ancestors would have
said that an evil spirit had
killed Joe, but Nick had trouble believing in spirits,
evil or
otherwise. Not that he was entirely sure that they didn’t
exist; after
all, this was an evil world. Nick had seen every wound
and injury that
animals could inflict, and there was definitely something
wrong with the
wounds they had found on Joe’s decomposing body. But
Nick was only a
simple policeman, and the forensic experts had concluded
that Joe had
died of injuries caused by one or several animals, probably
wolves. Case
closed. Nick had stolen the file afterwards and kept
it at home. Nobody
would miss it anyway. He looked through it now and then,
but when he put
it away, it was always with an uneasy feeling that he
had missed
something, and his anger would rise again. The last time
Joe had been
seen was in the house of that snooty astronomer, after
his wife’s
funeral. He had almost come to blows with the stranger
from San
Francisco who had presented himself as Caitlin Byrne’s
fiancé. Nothing
strange about that. If Joe had disliked the man, he would
have punched
him, even at a funeral. But those who had seen the incident
told Nick
that the thin man had fended off Joe’s attack with unbelievable
ease.
Caitlin’s fiancé had left the next day and Joe
had disappeared. They
found his dead body in the ravine, less than two miles
from the old
Byrne house, more than a week later. Strange.
Nick had a suspicious mind. He contacted
the San Francisco P. D.
discretely. But when he mentioned Julian Luna, all he
got back were
shrugs. He came to talk to Frank Kohanek by sheer coincidence.
Someone
told him that Frank knew the elusive businessman. Nick
described what he
knew, it didn’t take long.
“You say that Luna was there the day
your guy disappeared?” Frank
wanted to make sure.
“Yes.”
There was a long silence.
“Let me put it this way,” Frank said
at last, “and remember, I never
said this. If Luna was in any way involved, then your
man must have done
something incredibly stupid. Like go after him with a
gun, or something
equally idiotic. In any case, he would have deserved
what he got.”
“I never would have thought that you
would defend one of your local
mobsters,” Nick said derisively and it made Frank angry.
“Let me make a few things clear,”
he retorted. “First, Julian Luna
is not a mobster. We’ve got enough of those here to know
the difference.
Second, there’s no love lost between us, so I’m not defending
him. But I
know him. I can bet on two things. If, and I say if,
he killed somebody,
then this somebody has asked for it, and you’ll never
be able to pin it
on him anyway.”
“Yeah!” Nick’s anger flared up. “We’ll
see about that!”
It made Frank laugh.
“Look,” he said, “between us cops.
I’ve tried to pin quite a lot on
him during recent years. You could just as well try to
pin a medal on
one of your grizzly bears, or whatever ferocious animals
you’ve got up
there. Give it a rest, he’s out of your reach.”
“Hey! We hunt bears up here,” Nick
answered and Frank laughed again.
“You can hunt him all you want. Be
my guest. Just don’t be surprised
if you end up ripped to pieces like your friend did.
He was out hunting
too, I guess.”
Frank was thinking about what the
native cop had told him. It all
added up. The stupid jerk must have gone after Luna with
a gun, maybe
even shot him. Would that make the Kindred mad enough
to kill a human?
After all, Frank had shot Luna once and was shrugged
off as nuisance.
Frank picked up the phone and dialed the number that
Nick Marliss had
given him.
“It’s Frank Kohanek,” he said. “I
just thought of something.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a long shot, but I told you,
I know him. He wouldn’t kill
anybody for fun. But if someone else were endangered...
someone close to
him,” he had almost said a human, “then he might do just
that. I think
you should talk to Miss Byrne. She’s up there, isn’t
she?”
“Thanks pal.” Nick’s anger subsided
considerably. “I’ll do that.”
“Be careful.” Frank almost regretted
what he was doing. “He is very
protective when it comes to her.”
“Don’t worry,” Nick answered. “I’ll
just talk to her.”
Julian Luna and those Kindred
that he trusted were on the move all
the time. Within a few days they were able to find out
how big Servio’s
following was, at least in the western states. To Julian’s
relief, the
Gangrel Prince of Chicago didn’t intend to support the
crazy plan of the
New York Ventrue. He wasn’t interested in supporting
anybody, but Julian
managed to convince him that being neutral on this situation
might prove
fatal. The Nosferatu Primogen in Chicago helped. The
Gangrel Prince was
on their side. To Daedalus’ satisfaction, almost all
the Nosferatu they
came into contact with opposed Servio. To have the Nosferatu
Clan on
their side might make the difference. However, most Brujah
and many
Ventrue, were convinced that the Kindred could take over
the United
States of America. No amount of quoting numbers and repeating
arguments
appeared to sway them in their delusions.
“My mind is made up, don’t confuse
me with facts,” they seemed to
say. Julian was appalled. The Ventrue haughtiness. Partly
the cause of
both the French and the Russian revolutions. Well, at
least both Hitler
and Stalin were human.
The messages from Stephen stated that
there was no untoward activity
across the Canadian border, and that Servio seemed to
accept the support
of the Prince of Seattle. However, the fact that Stephen
and Julian were
blood brothers seemed to make the Ancient suspicious.
Stephen was able
to collect very little information. After a week the
messages stopped
coming; the Prince of Seattle had disappeared without
a trace. Julian
was devastated.
“Stephen has been found out,” he complained
to Daedalus. “I
shouldn’t have let him do this. That maniac has murdered
him.”
“We don’t know that.” Daedalus was
trying to be realistic. “Stephen
isn’t stupid, he might be hiding. Let’s wait and see.”
But they didn’t hear from Stephen
again.
Cash and Cameron were able to cleanse
San Francisco of the
newcomers. They showed no mercy: the blood bath even
attracted some
human notice. But the Kindred were able to sweep away
all the evidence
before the police found out what was going on. Heeding
Daedalus’ advice,
Julian contacted Frank Kohanek.
“I was wondering what had happened
to you,” the policeman said as
soon as he heard Julian’s voice. “Do you know that there
is a cop in
Seattle who has got this idea in his head that you’ve
done away with his
buddy there. Isn’t San Francisco big enough for you anymore?”
Julian was stunned. It took him a
moment to remember Joe Montegna.
“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” he said. “However, I want
you to know that whatever is happening in San Francisco
is a Kindred
affair. Try to look the other way so you won’t get caught
in the
middle.”
“What is going on?” Frank was curious
and it made Julian smile.
“If I promise to tell you when it’s
over, will you heed my advice?
This doesn’t concern humans.”
The hell it doesn’t! Julian thought,
but he didn’t inform Frank
about what was at stake. If things went wrong, the policeman
would know
soon enough.
There were no more attempts on Julian’s
life, but he continued to be
very cautious, and Daedalus seldom left his side. Through
the Nosferatu
Clan they got word from Los Angeles that the danger had
been contained.
Cyrus had kept his word. Once they were sure that New
Mexico was free of
the plague and that Chicago had never seemed to be infested,
they
decided that it was time to move east. There were four
important cities
that were their main targets: New Orleans, Miami, Washington
DC and, of
course, New York. They would have to split up in order
to act
simultaneously. Cash would start in New York: he was
the one who could
blend in there without any difficulties. Washington,
the only city of
the Nosferatu, was, of course, for Daedalus. There was
hardly any doubt
about where the Nosferatu stood, but Julian wanted to
make sure anyway.
Being the center of political power, the capital was
important. Daedalus
hated having to leave Julian, but his protests made the
Prince angry.
“I can take care of myself!” he shouted,
his famous temper making no
impact on the Nosferatu Primogen. “I’m not a child in
need of
protection. You go to Washington, Cameron goes to Miami,
and I’ll visit
my old hometown, New Orleans.”
Daedalus arrived in Washington without
any problems.
The string of helpful Nosferatu hands
stretched across the country.
Vorth, the Nosferatu Prince of Washington, welcomed him
warmly. As far
as the Kindred population was concerned, the capital
was better
organized than any other city in the United States. The
Nosferatu Prince
used the closely-knit Ventrue Clan as a buffer zone between
themselves
and the humans. In reality, the go-between Ventrue had
more power than
any other group in the country, and they guarded their
position
zealously. But, as all men in high places, they fell
into the trap of
believing themselves invincible. A Nosferatu in his right
mind would
never be blinded by his power.
Daedalus explained to Vorth what had
been hatched in New York. His
Clansman reacted with disbelief.
“It takes a Ventrue to get that mad,”
he concluded in the end.
“Not all Ventrue are crazy,” Daedalus
retorted defending his own
Prince. “If it weren’t for Julian Luna, the entire West
Coast would be
in Servio’s hand by now.”
But Vorth hadn’t been convinced.
“What about Stephen? He’s been seen
at Servio’s side?” he asked.
Daedalus’ relief was visible.
“Stephen’s alive! That’ll make Julian
happy. We thought that Servio
had done away with him.” Daedalus told Vorth about their
plan for the
involvement of Julian’s blood brother.
But in Washington everything was quiet:
no newcomers had arrived. It
wasn’t surprising, the Kindred of the capital didn’t
encourage migration
into their city. Daniel, the Ventrue Primogen, vowed
that there was no
way that Servio would gain a foothold there. Daniel would
not give up
his power, nor would he share it with anyone else.
“Daniel has all that he ever wanted,”
Vorth commented. “He can
manipulate the human affairs without having to stoop
to the indignity of
coaxing voters, congressmen, and senators. He’ll never
give into
Servio’s lure because he considers himself superior to
the New York
Prince. And he’d hate to become a public figure; he enjoys
spinning his
threads in the dark.”
“Are you sure?” Daedalus asked.
“You should never trust him,” Vorth
responded, “but you can trust
his personality.”
Daedalus accepted Vorth’s opinion.
Washington seemed to be secure. He
decided to go on to New York and
contact Cash, maybe even find Stephen, before seeking
out Julian in New
Orleans.
Julian, he thought, a shadow of anxiety
on his face, are you all
right?
Julian was alone with Arthur in Louisiana
and it worried Daedalus.
For years there had always been scores of bodyguards
around the Prince,
and still he managed somehow to get into trouble. If
not with rivals for
power, then with women, or their jealous men or whatever...
He almost
got killed by Goth, by the Brujah in Manzanita, by Lillie’s
treason, by
Frank Kohanek’s persecution...
Had it been up to Daedalus, Julian
Luna would be locked up in his
mansion and never allowed to go out unless ten guards
followed. It was
impossible of course, and Daedalus smiled at his own
wishful thinking.
Julian Luna was a Prince, free to come and go as he pleased.
He’d
probably get into more trouble in the future than Daedalus’
lively
imagination could conjure.
But right now there was every reason
to worry.
Julian was somewhere in the seething
south, amidst the most
superstitious of the humans in America, barring the Native
Americans.
Anything could happen there. And only Arthur to protect
him. Although
Daedalus had to admit that Julian was quite capable of
taking care of
himself, just as he claimed, the Nosferatu hated to be
somewhere else.
Besides, Daedalus didn’t like Arthur.
Julian had sired Arthur five or six
years ago, and the gay Venture
had stayed at the Prince’s side ever since. He was big
and strong enough
to be a challenge to a Nosferatu - a perfect bodyguard.
He loved Julian,
that was quite obvious, and would never betray him. But
Daedalus
sometimes wondered whether Arthur loved him as the Prince,
the way
Julian had loved Archon, or as a man. Daedalus was a
keen observer, and
he had noticed how Arthur’s eyes followed Julian, always.
Am I jealous? Daedalus wondered, then
shrugged. Whatever Arthur’s
feelings were, Julian didn’t seem to notice. His eyes
and his desire
were only for Caitlin. And Daedalus respected Caitlin;
she had saved
Julian’s life.
Nick Marliss’ anger subsided considerably when he met Caitlin Byrne.
The fact that he thought that she was
the most beautiful woman that
he had ever seen might have something to do with Nick’s
change of mood.
That she was kind and polite, not at all like her father,
helped, of
course.
He called her and presented himself,
telling her that he was
investigating Joe’s death. She didn’t know that officially
the case was
closed and that she didn’t have to answer any questions.
“We need your statement,” he told
her over the phone. “Can we meet,
please?”
She agreed and he invited her to a
restaurant nearby.
She arrived on time, as he sat in
the bar waiting for her, inventing
ways to coax the truth out of her.
“The waiter told me that you’re Nick
Marliss.” The soft voice behind
him startled him. He turned around and tried to get up,
overturning his
chair in the process. She smiled, and all of Nick’s carefully
prepared
lines were gone.
Joe had babbled about her to Nick,
the week before he disappeared.
She had come from San Francisco because her mother had
been very ill and
then had died. Joe had known Caitlin when she was just
a young girl, but
now, when he met her again after so many years, he was
apparently
smitten with her, and Nick had scorned him for that.
But seeing Caitlin, Nick understood
what Joe had been babbling
about. She was indeed ‘the sweetest creature in the Lord’s
creation’ as
Joe had put it.
She allowed Nick to gather his wits,
and he didn’t start asking
questions until they came to the main course. She didn’t
have much to
say. She had met Joe a couple of times during the time
she was here. He
had asked her out but she had declined. Her mother was
dying, and
besides, there was someone else.
“Julian Luna,” Nick said and Caitlin
looked up in surprise.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“According to our investigation, Joe
had a… disagreement with Mr.
Luna after the funeral of your mother. It was the day
before Joe
disappeared.” Nick tried to sound as neutral as he could.
“Come again!” Caitlin laughed. “I
don’t know what they said to each
other, I didn’t hear them. But Julian had walked around
introducing
himself as my fiancé and Joe took a swing at him
when he heard that. Joe
was always like that. He’d punch first and ask questions
later. Hardly a
disagreement.”
“And that’s true?” Nick asked.
“What’s true?” Caitlin had missed
his point.
“That Mr. Luna is your fiancé”
“Yes, he is.” Caitlin’s smile was
underlined by her blushing, and
Nick felt his anger rise again. He shook his head, banishing
the picture
of Julian Luna, the one he got from San Francisco P.
D., from his mind.
“The witnesses said that Joe’s...
attack wasn’t successful,” Nick
went on and Caitlin laughed again.
“No, it wasn’t,” she said. “But then,
nobody’s ever is.”
“Oh?” Nick sounded offended. “Are
you telling me that your fiancé is
some sort of superman?”
He is, Caitlin thought.
“No,” she said, “but he’s stronger
than anyone I know.” She frowned.
“Joe took a couple of swings at Julian, but was just
shrugged off. That,
I did see. Joe wasn’t stupid. He backed off and didn’t
get in Julian’s
way again that night.”
“Aha.” Nick jumped at the opportunity.
“Not that night. What about
the next day?” Nick knew that Joe had been alive the
evening preceding
his disappearance because he had seen Joe with his rifle.
Joe had been
going on about teaching somebody a lesson. Nick hadn’t
told anybody
about it, but now he was sure that Frank Kohanek had
been right. Joe had
gone after Julian Luna with a gun and had got what he
deserved. But Joe
had been Nick’s friend; Nick didn’t know Julian Luna,
and now Nick
resented the man even more, because he had Caitlin Byrne.
Caitlin looked up at Nick, suddenly
serious.
“We didn’t see Joe again,” she said.
“We were together all morning
and then Julian left for San Francisco.” She averted
her eyes and Nick
knew instantly that she wasn’t telling the truth. He
decided to let it
be for the moment.
“What about during the night?” he
asked, but Caitlin shook her head.
The blush was there again.
“Julian was with me all night,” she
said. “That I know for sure. And
in the morning, he was with my father.” She looked up
at Nick again.
“What are you trying to do?” she asked. “I thought that
Joe had been
killed by animals.”
“Yes,” Nick answered, “I just wanted
to make sure about everybody’s
whereabouts. No more questions but one.” He smiled at
her reassuringly.
“Do you dance?”
Before Caitlin knew how it happened,
she was engulfed in Nick’s
arms, swinging to the soft music. As they danced she
became aware of his
nearness in a way that made her cheeks burn, Nick was
very tall,
heavy-boned, his big hand on her back felt like a hot
stamp. Caitlin let
her head rest on his chest and allowed him to lead her
in the slow
dance. He wasn’t the one to press her harder against
him, but somehow,
she leaned close instinctively, the way she would have
done with Julian,
and his response was the same that Julian’s would have
been. She knew
that what she was doing was wrong, but something deep
inside reveled in
the power she was wielding.
He drove her home in silence and walked
with her to the door. Before
she got her keys out, he took her in his arms and kissed
her. Caitlin
responded to the kiss, both surprised and appalled by
the desire it
evoked in her.
“There is something I want to show
you,” Nick said when they stopped
kissing. “I’ll come by tomorrow.”
He kissed her again and then turned
and left without saying good
night.
Cash disappeared in the underground
world of New York.
Whatever he managed to find out or
accomplish in the center of
Servio’s conspiracy never reached his friends or Julian
Luna. He had no
idea who had betrayed him nor how the information of his
whereabouts was
conveyed to the Prince of New York. All he knew was that
he was followed
and watched from the moment he entered the city. He knew
within a few
hours that he would never be allowed to leave and that
the news of his
arrival had preceded him. There was a traitor among them.
Someone close
to Julian. It meant that everybody was endangered: the
Prince most of
all. He tried desperately to get a message out about
what was afoot. But
to try to find Julian in New Orleans or Daedalus in Washington
was not
possible. He called San Francisco, hoping that he would
find Sasha, but
she wasn’t in the mansion. In the Brujah compound nobody
picked up the
phone, and there was no answer in the Haven either.
In a last act of heroic recklessness,
he called Frank Kohanek.
“It’s Cash,” he said to the baffled
policeman. “Don’t ask anything,
just listen. If Julian contacts you, tell him that there
is a traitor.”
“What? Who?...”
But Cash didn’t let him continue.
“Shut up! Don’t tell anybody else!
Not Lillie, not Sonny. Only
Julian. Do you understand?”
“I don’t understand a bloody thing!”
Frank shouted. “What is going
on?”
“You don’t want to know,” Cash answered
tiredly. “Just do it!” There
was a short silence before Cash added, “if you see Sasha...
tell her
that I loved her.”
The phone went dead in Frank’s ear
and he stared at it for a long
moment before putting it down.
He thought about Cash’s use of past
tense and it scared him.
What the hell is going on?!
Cash’s body was never found.
Nick’s anger had been exchanged for
dizziness. He had wanted Caitlin
the moment he saw her. She had pressed herself against
his body when
they danced giving his desire a promise. Her soft lips
had responded to
his kisses. He didn’t care if she had done it to protect
her boyfriend,
Luna. He didn’t care about anything but her warm body,
her smile, her…
he was making himself sick with wanting.
Nick had a special remedy for every
pain - he ran. After several
hours of running in the night, he allowed himself the
luxury of a shower
and rest. But he couldn’t sleep. He took out the file
marked ‘Joseph
Montegna’ that he had leafed through so many times. He
looked at the
pictures taken in the ravine and then at the photograph
of Julian Luna.
The information he had stated that Luna was thirty-four.
He looked at
the photo again. Something in the man’s eyes, an air
of maturity
suggested that he was older than that, at least ten years
older. On the
other hand, the unlined skin of his face and neck seemed
to point in the
opposite direction, much younger, certainly under thirty.
Weird. Nick
was thirty-five, and he was quite sure that his skin
looked much older
than that of Julian Luna.
Something was wrong here, another
mystery, and Nick hated mysteries.
He was sure of one thing though, Caitlin had lied. Something
had
happened on the morning of Julian’s departure, and Caitlin
had kept her
mouth shut.
Well, Nick intended to find out what
had happened, even if he had to
seduce her to do so.
Hell! He wanted to seduce her, whether
she was telling the truth or
not.
Nick spent most of the next day chasing
and cursing a drunken driver
who had lost control of his car and had driven off the
road. The fence
around old Engelson’s cottage had been destroyed but
nobody had been
hurt. Nevertheless, it was police business and Nick was
the police
officer on duty. The drunken driver had turned out to
be Mr. Engelson’s
own grandson, and everybody was very embarrassed, except
for Nick who,
as usual, was angry. In the end, old Engelson had to
pay the fines in
order to keep his grandson out of prison. When all the
commotion was
over, it was past nine in the evening, and Nick realized
that he would
have to wait to see Caitlin until the next morning. It
made him angry
again.
Cameron had spent ten years pretending
to be something he wasn’t:
hiding his true feelings and learning the ways of the
mighty. He had
survived the blood bath in Manzanita, the clan-wars in
San Francisco and
the wrath of the Prince. He had killed Archon. In the
end he had managed
to get himself elected the Primogen of the Brujah Clan.
Cameron was
proud of himself, and he had every right to be.
He had watched Julian’s rise to power
- it seemed so easy. But then,
Julian Luna had been groomed for that position by Archon
himself.
Everybody seemed to know that. They had been waiting
for him to take
over, their hopes rising and falling, depending on what
they expected.
Cameron had waited too.
Know your enemy, the old saying went,
and Cameron knew his enemy
well; that knowledge had saved his own life. Whatever
Julian Luna was,
he wasn’t evil. He believed in right and wrong and he
had a conscience.
A sign of weakness to be taken advantage of. Cameron
had done just that.
In fact, the Prince was as civilized as a Kindred could
be. Another
weakness. He missed his humanity and liked and respected
mortals. More
weaknesses. And, just as Lillie had pointed out, he was
an easy prey for
the so-called weaker sex. They could call him Don Juan
all they wanted.
According to Cameron, it was a weakness too.
Cameron had been lucky. In order to
gain information about Caitlin,
he had taken up with one of her colleagues, Donna, a
voluptuous creature
who accepted his explanation that he was married and
that they had to
keep their affair a secret. It had paid off better than
Cameron had
expected, and he was now in possession of a very special
diskette. It
contained a copy of the diary of the missing girl, Anamaria
Weatherstone, and if Cameron played his cards right,
it might become the
downfall of the mighty Prince. How wonderful that the
stupid woman had
disappeared. What had happened to her didn’t concern
Cameron. He didn’t
suspect that Julian had killed her, but the fact that
she was gone was
enough. If the diary became public knowledge, Julian
Luna, the Prince of
San Francisco, would have to go too. Beautiful!
“Anamaria gave it to me the day before
she was found missing,” Donna
had told Cameron. “She asked me to give it to her father
if anything
happened to her, but whenever I tried to contact Mr.
Weatherstone, he
was never available to see me, so I got tired of it.”
Donna wasn’t the most responsible
of citizens and it made Cameron
happy.
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
Cameron had wondered aloud. Donna
had shrugged.
“I didn’t like her. I like Caitlin,
and besides, Mr. Luna has been
very generous to us. The employees of The San Francisco
Times are better
paid than those of any other paper in the city.”
“You didn’t intend to use it for your
own purposes?” Cameron had
chided her, and she had been insulted.
Eventually she gave him the diskette,
assuring him that it was the
only copy she had. Cameron had every intention of using
it. But right
now it sat in a vault in a San Francisco bank, and he
was involved in a
war that might prove fatal not only to Julian Luna but
to himself as
well. He put away his thoughts of revenge and concentrated
on the task
at hand.
Cameron had managed to get to Florida,
pretending that he was a
refugee from the West Coast. It was known that he had
killed Archon, and
it was easy to convince the Brujah idiot of Miami that
Julian Luna was
after him. Cameron didn’t have to pretend that he hated
Luna, all he had
to do was to make the Brujah Prince believe that that
he was supporting
Servio. It wasn’t difficult either. The Prince of Miami
was from Cuba,
almost illiterate, vicious as a snake, profoundly hated
by everybody,
and more stupid than Eddie Fiori had ever been.
Guys like him give the Brujah Clan
a bad reputation, Cameron
concluded.
To arrange the demise of the Prince
of Miami was child’s play for
Cameron. When he looked at the decapitated body at his
feet he couldn’t
help wondering:
Why couldn’t it be just as easy to
get rid of Julian Luna?
He’s trusted, loved and respected,
his mind told him. You’ll never
turn his own Clansmen or the other Primogens against
him the way you’ve
done with this one.
To Cameron’s surprise, he was asked
to take over. It was a tempting
proposition but he declined, suggesting that Gerald,
one of the more
moderate and intelligent of the Clan, should be the one
to be chosen.
The fact that Gerald opposed Servio was the main reason
for Cameron’s
advice. Gerald was appointed the new Prince of Miami
and Cameron gained
an important friend. A friend indebted to him.
Yes, Cameron realized, this is the
way: the way to power.
Something that Julian Luna had known
for more than a century and
Cameron was just learning about: Powerful friends.
It was nine in the morning and James
Byrne paled visibly when he saw
an uniformed policeman outside his door.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I’d like to see Miss Byrne,” Nick
said. He could almost smell the
old man’s fear.
“What’s happened?” James Byrne blocked
the door with his body.
“Nothing has happened.” Nick was wondering
suddenly if he were
chasing the wrong man. Could old Byrne be the one who
had done away with
Joe? Why? He decided on direct attack.
“We’re investigating the death of
Joseph Montegna,” he said watching
the other man’s face carefully. To his relief, Caitlin’s
father relaxed
immediately. Whatever he was afraid of, it had nothing
to do with Joe’s
death.
“There are a few things that Caitlin...
er... Miss Byrne promised to
help me straighten out,” he continued.
Nick was let inside.
Caitlin offered him coffee and they
sat down in the kitchen. Her
father left them alone.
“Caitlin,” Nick was trying to sound
kind, “I know that something
happened the morning after your mother’s funeral.” He
watched her face
turn violently red. “What was it?” He was determined
to find out the
truth.
“Julian...” her voice was barely a
whisper, “Julian was shot.”
“WHAT?!” Nick had not expected that
one. “Where?”
“In the leg.” Caitlin pointed at a
spot a few inches above his knee.
“Right there, the bullet went through his leg, just like
that. He said
that it wasn’t much of an injury, but it looked awful.”
“You were there when it happened?”
Nick continued watching her.
“Yes,” she said, and Nick remembered
what Frank had told him.
“Where you near him?” he asked and
her embarrassment answered his
question.
“Let’s go,” he said and seeing her
frown added, “I want you to show
me where it happened.”
They went to the old pine and Caitlin
pointed out the spot on the
ground. Nick lay on the ground and asked Caitlin to direct
him into the
position Julian had been in. He leaned away from the
tree, the way
Julian had done, and bent his left leg, his knee coming
up.
“Like that?” he asked and Caitlin
nodded.
“And you were?” When she didn’t answer
he continued, “on top?” She
nodded again.
Nick heard Frank’s voice in his head
again, ‘if someone close were
endangered…’ He put a finger on the spot on his leg that
Caitlin had
pointed out. Nick was at least three inches taller than
Julian Luna. He
moved his finger up his thigh.
“Caitlin,” he looked at her, “please,
don’t get me wrong, but I want
you to come down on me, the way you did with your fiancé.”
She stared at him, appalled.
“No!”
“Caitlin, please, it’s important,
just for a second, please.”
She continued to stare at the man
in the snow a little longer and
then did as he asked of her. He strained his head to
the left, trying to
see his leg.
“How far up was his knee?” he asked.
“I don’t know!” There was anger in
her voice. “I was busy.”
“Did his leg touch you? Were you sitting
up or lying down on him?
Try to remember!”
The barrage of questions made her
head spin, or was it being this
close to him? She closed her eyes and leaned forward.
“I was down,” she said. “Julian’s
thigh was touching me. I heard the
shot...” Remembering made her shiver. “It was terrible!”
She started to
cry.
Nick put his arm around her and pressed
her to his chest. His leg
came closer, until his thigh touched her. Looking over
Caitlin’s
shoulder he measured the distance with his hand.
Four inches, maybe five, he thought.
Damn close.
“Okay,” he said, “let’s get up. It’s
rather cold here in the snow.”
They got up and brushed the snow off
their clothes.
Four or five inches, no wonder Julian
Luna got mad. Nick was mad
too, and this time with Joe. No matter how good you are
with the rifle,
you can always miss. A target that could move in any
direction at any
moment. A couple having sex. Anything could have happened.
Nick walked down the slight slope,
turning and crouching several
times. How close did Joe have to come to see the raised
knee? When he
couldn’t see the top of the hill any longer, he turned
and started back.
Caitlin watched him in silence. He
reminded her of a film about
Indian scouts that she had seen recently. The police
uniform made it
seem unreal.
Suddenly Nick slipped and almost fell.
His hand groped through the
snow and came up with the object that made him loose
his balance. It was
rusty but he recognized it immediately. A bullet casing.
He looked at
Caitlin.
“This is where he was when he shot
at you,” he said.
He went back to her and looked at
the trees on the other side of the
hill. But there was no reason to look for the bullet.
Nick knew all he
needed to know about the shooting of Julian Luna. He
turned to Caitlin
again.
“What happened afterwards?”
“I went back to the house to get help.
I called his car. I waited
for them to come and then we came back here.”
“How long was he alone?”
“A half of an hour, maybe a little
longer.” Caitlin looked at him
challengingly. “Look, he couldn’t have gone after Joe;
his leg was shot
through! His... associates had to carry him.”
“You mean his bodyguards, don’t you?”
Nick smiled at her, but
Caitlin’s anger flared up.
“Yes, his bodyguards! After what happened
here, don’t you think he
needs them?!”
But Nick didn’t respond.
There was no way that Julian Luna
could have pursued Joe into the
ravine and killed him there. Not with the injured leg,
not while Joe
still had his rifle. But even if he hadn’t been wounded,
and Joe hadn’t
been armed, there simply wasn’t enough time. The motive
was there, but
no means.
“Why wasn’t the police informed?”
he asked Caitlin sternly.
“Julian had to go back to San Francisco
in a hurry,” she said
quietly, “and he said... that there was no reason for
my friend to go to
jail.”
“So you did see Joe?”
“No,” Caitlin shook her head. “We
didn’t see him, we heard him run,”
she was trying to smile, “and Julian was guessing.”
“So you came back here; your fiancé
was carried to the car. Did your
father know what had happened?”
”Yes,” she looked away, “but Julian
said that there was no need to
make any fuss, he just wanted to leave. I went with him
to the airport.
I saw the plane take off.” She anticipated the questions.
Nick nodded. The airport had confirmed
that much. The plane had
taken off and had not come back until a few days ago.
So much for that.
Nick knew now what had happened on that fateful morning,
but he was
still no closer to understanding how Joe had died.
“Okay, Caitlin, we’re done here.”
He turned down the slope and she
followed. “Let’s go to my place. There’s something I
want to show you.”
Julian was surprised over how familiar
Louisiana felt, although he
hadn’t been back since he left the state as a mortal,
a century and a
half ago. He flew into Baton Rouge, Arthur his only companion;
they
hired a car and drove to New Orleans. As unchanged as
the countryside
was, as changed was the city. Still, there was something
in the air that
brought back childhood memories, and Julian smiled -
it was literally in
the air.
The smell... Well, New Orleans was
never famous for its cleanliness.
The ever-present noise made Julian realize that San Francisco,
a much
bigger city, was a place where silence could be found,
especially if one
were able to pay for it. But no amount of money could
buy silence in New
Orleans.
Arthur watched with fascination as
Julian transformed himself from
the strict San Francisco businessman into a southern
playboy in a white
linen suit, only the gold chains and rings lacking. Julian
Luna was
quite prepared to pretend that he was gay, using Arthur’s
company as an
excuse, but hanging several pounds of gold on himself
was just more than
he could take.
Arthur was also impressed by Julian’s
ability to blend into the
city’s nightlife, switching between French and English
effortlessly.
Louisiana had the biggest Kindred population of all the
states, many of
them Europeans. Within a few hours, Julian had found
the right contacts.
The next night they would meet Pierre de Guiche, the
Prince of New
Orleans.
Pierre de Guiche was an old Ventrue.
He had come to America with his
own creation, La Fayette, barely escaping the guillotine.
When the
general returned to Europe, the French aristocrat had
stayed, recreating
his own little piece of France in Louisiana. He had survived
the
Inquisition and the French Revolution and Julian hoped
that his
experiences in Europe would prevent him from supporting
Servio. But he
was gay and quite explicit about it. Julian imagined
that pretending
that he was a homosexual too might give him a further
advantage. Arthur
had laughed at the idea.
When Caitlin and Nick approached the
pickup truck that he had left
outside the house, they found a stranger waiting for
them on the
doorstep. It was a thin man, very tall, his very light
coloring reminded
Caitlin of Arthur, although the stranger was at least
twenty years older
than her bodyguard.
He looked at them without blinking
and all of a sudden Caitlin felt
apprehension.
“I’m looking for Julian Luna,” the
stranger said without presenting
himself.
“He’s not here.” Caitlin instinctively
backed away a couple of steps
and was grateful when Nick put his arm around her shoulders.
“Yes, I’m aware of that.” The man
continued staring at her. “I was
hoping that you might know where he is.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Caitlin
said staring back. “We don’t
keep contact,” she added after a moment, and felt Nick’s
arm harden.
“I see.”
The stranger came down from the steps
and Caitlin moved closer to
Nick.
“What is it you want, Mr...?” Nick
stretched up; he was just as tall
as the other man, but twice as big.
The stranger seemed to contemplate
Nick’s police uniform for a few
seconds; then, ignoring Nick’s question, he turned to
Caitlin again.
“If Julian contacts you, would you
please inform me. Here is my
number.” He gave her a card. “It’s very important,” he
added.
Caitlin looked at the card.
Stephen Langhelis, it said in small,
printed letters. There was a
Seattle number written underneath the name in pencil.
Nothing else, no
address, no title.
“It’s very important,” the man repeated
and walked to a big foreign
car that was parked nearby.
Nick and Caitlin watched as a much
younger man got out of the front
passenger seat and opened the back door for the mysterious
stranger.
Caitlin recognized the pattern immediately. This was
how it looked
whenever Julian traveled by car.
She tried to move away from Nick,
but his arm remained around her
back.
“Why did you lie to him?” he asked.
“I don’t know him!” She managed to
step away from Nick. “And I don’t
know where Julian is!”
She ran into the house calling her
father. Nick stayed outside.
Caitlin’s father was in the kitchen,
still fuming.
“The impertinent moron!” he exclaimed.
“Coming here, asking
questions!”
“What did he want?”
“He wanted Julian, and then started
to ask about you. If you two
were still together. The audacity...!” James Byrne was
so angry that he
sputtered.
“What did you tell him?” Caitlin asked.
“I told him to mind his own business!”
He was surprised when Caitlin
hugged and kissed him. “And then I threw him out!” he
added with
satisfaction.
When Caitlin came out of the house
again, Nick and his pickup were
gone.
Julian woke up as the blare of music
penetrated even the deep sleep
of a Kindred. It was early afternoon. He locked himself
in the bathroom
and let the hot shower batter his body for almost an
hour. But the
memory would not be washed away. They had returned to
the hotel before
dawn and the clerk had given them their keys, apparently
surprised that
they didn’t share a room. It had made Arthur smile.
“With proper training you could pass
as gay,” he had said making
Julian frown.
“Are you saying that my performance
is lacking?” Julian had asked.
“You wouldn’t have fooled me,” was
Arthur’s response, “nor any other
of my persuasion.”
Julian had invited his bodyguard into
his room.
“I need your help, Arthur.” He was
ill at ease but decided to
overcome his apprehension. “I must make a believable
impression.”
“Julian, you’re the straightest man
I know. You couldn’t fool me if
your life depended on it.”
“Well, my life might depend on it,”
Julian had said quite seriously.
“Stop laughing and show me how I should behave.”
Arthur had stopped laughing.
“It’s not the question of how you
should behave, but how you
shouldn’t behave.” He had strolled over to Julian casually,
and then
suddenly threw his arms around him and kissed him on
the mouth. As he
had expected, Julian had recoiled from him with a shout.
“There, you see,” Arthur had commented.
“If you want to pretend that
you are gay, you must never show your disgust. You may
show that you
aren’t interested in somebody’s advances but you must
not be revolted.”
“Okay, I get the picture.” Julian
squared his shoulders. “Do it
again!”
Arthur did as he was told.
Julian had had quite a few run-ins
with the homosexuals in his life,
especially in the sixties and seventies, when he was
still Archon’s
glorified gopher. After all, he lived in San Francisco.
He believed
himself to be tolerant, as long as his own butt wasn’t
on the line. His
Kindred strength allowed him to fend off any unwanted
passes. But it was
difficult to hide the discomfort he felt.
Arthur took hold of his arms and shook
him a little.
“You’re as stiff as if you’ve swallowed
your toothbrush. Loosen up a
little, that’s better.” Julian had relaxed somewhat and
closing his eyes
allowed Arthur to kiss him again.
“Now, respond!” Arthur demanded, and to
his own surprise, Julian let
their kiss become quite intimate.
It’s not entirely unpleasant, he thought,
but in the next moment
Arthur touched him and he flinched away from the searching
hand.
“No, no!” Arthur was laughing again.
“If you don’t want the
attention, you take my hand and remove it. Remember,
you must not show
fear or disgust. Try again!” The offending hand
was back, closing on
Julian with a force that made him wince. He took hold
of the wrist and
moved it away.
“I’m being naughty.” Arthur took his
hand and smiled. “Nobody would
do this to you unless invited. But I couldn’t help making
fun of you.
Straight men seem to believe that we’re all rapists!”
It made Julian laugh.
“Women seem to believe that we’re
all rapists,” he retorted, and
they both laughed again.
“Anyway,” Arthur continued, “what
you must remember is that gay men
touch each other much in the way women do. There’s nothing
sexual about
it, and you must not shy away. We hug and hold each other
a lot.” He put
his arm around Julian’s shoulders and patted his knee.
“Remember to do
the same.”
“The clerk downstairs seemed to believe
that we were together,”
Julian said. “It might be a good idea to let Pierre believe
that we
are.”
“The clerk downstairs doesn’t know
any better. He’s straight.”
Arthur was thoughtful. “Fooling Pierre de
Guiche might prove much more
difficult.”
“I’d hate him to come after me.” Julian
grimaced. “I might not be as
tolerant with him as I’m with you.”
“Just how tolerant do you think you
are?!” There was anger in
Arthur’s voice. “Let me show you how much you can take!”
He shoved Julian down on the bed and
lay down beside him.
“Stop me when you’ve had enough!”
he growled and kissed Julian
passionately.
Julian willed himself to respond to
the kiss. Arthur’s hands moved
over his body, sneaking inside his clothes with expert
ease.
Let’s see how much I can take, Julian
wondered.
The kisses and caresses sent a pleasant
shiver up his spine. Then
Arthur took Julian’s hand and pressed it against himself.
Julian felt
the hardness strain against his fingers and heard Arthur’s
breath catch.
“Don’t you think it’s enough?” he whispered
to his bodyguard,
surprised by the excitement in his own voice.
Arthur didn’t stop.
Julian knew that his bodyguard was
stronger than he was. But he
didn’t want to fight his way out anyway. It felt easier
to give in to
superior strength, his body pressed down by the other’s
weight against
his back, his wrists locked in a steel grip, his legs
forced apart.
Arthur bit his shoulders and neck, making him gasp and
shudder with
pleasure. Something hot and hard was forced between his
buttocks and he
stiffened instinctively in defense.
“Julian, I’ll hurt you if you don’t
relax,” Arthur’s whisper was
entreating.
“Arthur, please, don’t...” But it
was too late, and the powerful
thrust made Julian cry out in pain.
If I resist, I’ll be hurt, Julian
realized.
He made a conscious effort to slacken
his contorted muscles. The
pain subsided, turning slowly into an unexpectedly pleasant
sensation.
Arthur let go of his wrists and, turning on his side,
let one hand press
Julian against him, caressing him intimately with the
other, his teeth
sunk into Julian’s neck, as if they were two mating cats.
His breathing
more and more labored, his thrusts swifter and harder,
he mumbled
through his clenched teeth.
“I’ll make you come... Julian, I’ll
make you come...”
In the end, he did.
Julian was appalled by his own reaction
as he watched his semen
spurt forth between Arthur’s clenched fingers. Even allowing
Arthur to
have sex with him wasn’t as confounding as the fact that
he himself had
been sexually excited by it, responding the way he did.
“You’ve led me on, Julian. You made
it happen!” Arthur had exploded
afterwards, unable to hide his anger. “It’s not like
you didn’t enjoy
it!”
“I know.” Julian had answered. “I
didn’t mean to seduce you. I’m
sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Now, you tell me!” Arthur had exclaimed,
grabbing him and pressing
him against his body. “How am I supposed to go on now?
I love you and I
want you. I always have. Until today you were just out
of my reach, like
all straight men are. But now... how am I supposed to
go on living...
pretending that nothing has happened?”
He tried to kiss Julian again but
the Prince turned his face away.
“I’m sorry, Arthur.” Julian was aghast.
“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t
have let this happen had I known.”
He held his crying bodyguard in his
arms, cursing his own blindness,
until they both fell asleep.
Nick called Caitlin in the afternoon.
“I had to go,” he told her. “I was
called in. Can I pick you up at
six?”
Caitlin was a little doubtful. She
wasn’t sure that she wanted to
see what Nick had to show her, but on the other hand,
she had no reason
to refuse.
“Okay,” she said, “six will be fine.”
She spent the rest of the afternoon
trying to sort out her feelings.
Julian had not called for several days, and she was scared
and angry at
the same time. Her imagination created all possible scenarios,
each
ending in disaster. She missed him terribly, and would
do anything to
make the empty hours pass, even spend time with the man
who apparently
believed that her lover was a murderer.
In spite of Nick’s suspicions, she
liked him. His native calm, the
big frame, even the police uniform, filled her with a
feeling of
security, and she needed that right now. She was sure
that he was
interested in her, apart from the investigation of Joe’s
death. She
liked that too, not giving any thought to what it might
lead to. It was
as if Julian’s protective presence would reach across
any distance,
shielding her from the outside world.
Nick came exactly at six, and she
went out as soon as she saw his
pickup at the end of the driveway.
“You left rather abruptly this morning,”
she said when she was
seated at his side.
“Duty called. There was a burglary.”
He lied to her. He had tried to
follow the foreign car but lost the track of it after
only a few miles.
It was much too fast for his pickup. He had gone to work
then, too
ashamed to face Caitlin after his futile pursuit.
Nick lived in a small cottage, a half
an hour’s drive from the
astronomer’s house. It was filled with beautiful Indian
artwork mixed
with modern technology; rusty brown and red were the
pervading colors,
giving the place a sense of warmth.
But as soon as the door closed behind
them, the atmosphere froze.
Nick took Caitlin in his arms and tried to kiss her.
Now, when they were
alone in his home, it was no longer a play, and Caitlin
stopped him
immediately.
“I’m sorry, Nick. I know that I’ve
given you the wrong impression.
Please, forgive me!”
To her relief, he let her go at once.
“Yes, you have,” he said with a wry
smile.
“What was it you wanted to show me?”
she asked, trying to hide her
uneasiness.
Nick went to his desk and turned on
a reading lamp. He picked up the
file marked Joseph Montegna and shook its contents out.
He chose a
photograph and turned to Caitlin.
“It’s not a pretty picture,” he said,
“but you’re a reporter. I
imagine you can take it.” He laid it down under the lamp.
Caitlin came closer and looked at
it.
At first, she was just shocked by
the gory sight. The dead man had
been lying in the ravine long enough for decay to have
set in, in spite
of the autumn cold. The skin on his face was blackened,
the eyes were
gone. He had no throat.
Caitlin swallowed hard and looked
closer. Suddenly she was very cold
and a violent shiver shook her body: She had seen the
wound before.
She looked up at Nick and saw him
smile triumphantly.
“You’ve seen it before, haven’t you?”
Nick’s question was a
statement. But Caitlin refused to answer.
Yes, I’ve seen it! Frank Kohanek had
shown me the photograph of the
man who had attacked Julian in the San Francisco bank.
His throat had
been ripped out in exactly the same way as the throat
of Joe Montegna.
Caitlin’s eyes filled with tears.
Wouldn’t you like to know how he did
it? She heard Frank’s angry
voice in her head.
“Nick,” she sobbed, “how were these
wounds inflicted?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never
seen anything like it. And I’ve
seen almost everything that can happen in the wilderness.”
He looked at
her with pity. “You know something, Caitlin,” he said
quietly. “There is
someone we can ask.”
Nick took the whole file as they went
back to his pickup. The drive
took almost two hours. They didn’t say anything to each
other for most
of that time. Caitlin curled up in her seat. She had
stopped crying.
Nick shot a glance at her pale face every now and then.
At last he
cleared his throat.
“Caitlin,” he said softly, “whatever
happened there, I can’t do
anything about it, and neither can you. But I’m sure
that Julian Luna
was somehow involved in Joe’s death. From your reaction,
I think you
know that too, don’t you?”
Caitlin nodded, a sob escaping her
again.
“Tell me about it!”
“There was an attempt to assassinate
Julian at his bank. More than a
year ago. The attacker was found like this,” she pointed
her chin
towards the file that lay between them on the seat.
“I saw the
pictures.” She shivered again. “The police never found
out what really
happened.”
Yes, Nick mused, it must have looked
even more weird in San
Francisco.
Well, so much for my being able to
take care of myself, Julian
thought wryly. Poor Daedalus! Had he been here, this
wouldn’t have
happened. And poor Arthur. And stupid me!
A shiver of revulsion went through
Julian’s body. Having sex with a
man had never entered his mind, and, being what he was,
it had never
been a threat either. But now, it had happened. He had
not only had sex
with a man, but with one of his closest and most trusted
friends, and on
top of that, he had enjoyed it enough to... The shiver
became stronger;
he had to clench his teeth in order to prevent himself
from being sick.
The experience had been revolting and painful and pleasant
in some weird
combination. Julian was sure of one thing though; he
never wanted it to
happen again.
I guess Arthur was right, he thought.
I’m quite straight.
He forbade himself to think of Caitlin,
just as her image turned up
in his head.
This is at least something she will
never know about, he vowed to
himself.
He felt his body react and was appalled
until he realized that it
was a reaction to the picture of Caitlin that his mind
had conjured.
He couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever.
He had to get out and face
Arthur again. But when he went back to his bedroom, he
found Arthur
already dressed, his face bland, his behavior all business.
Arthur asked for money. Not enough
to make up for what had happened,
but he wanted several thousand dollars. Julian decided
against asking
why he wanted it.
“Will a check do?”
“A credit card would be better,” Arthur
answered. “I’ll be back in
an hour,” he added after Julian had given him his card.
Arthur came back with a small package
from the jeweler’s.
“I know you hate these things,” he
told Julian while he tore the
paper away, “but it should do the trick.”
He took out a pair of identical bracelets
made of massive gold, each
engraved with their initials.
“Put it on your right wrist,” he said.
Julian looked at the heavy gold.
Arthur is right, he thought. I hate
these trinkets.
But it wasn’t what the bracelet signified
that Julian hated. Julian
had come to California during the gold rush. He had seen
what the
glimmering metal could do to people: men and women alike.
Somehow, he
had managed to avoid the poisonous contagion of the yellow
metal. But it
had destroyed so many others, his father among them.
“Now, we’re engaged,” Arthur smiled
nervously. “At least as far as
Pierre is concerned,” he added before Julian had time
to say anything.
“Remember what I told you, and try not to shy away if
I touch you.”
“I’ll do my best,” Julian answered.
He tried to think of something kind
to say to Arthur, and an awkward
silence stretched between them.
“Julian,” Arthur broke the silence
at last, “I’m sorry for what’s
happened. But I’m not the only one to blame. I know that
I forced you...
Hell, you didn’t even try to stop me!” His outburst went
unanswered.
“Why didn’t you try to stop me?” he
asked.
“I don’t know, Arthur. I really don’t
know. Curiosity...” Julian’s
voice trailed off. “A new experience. I’m sorry too.”
Arthur went to his room to change
his clothes and prepare for the
evening.
They left the hotel when darkness
set over the city.
The lodge seemed old and partly ruined.
At first Caitlin thought
that it was deserted, but then she saw some light seeping
from the
inside, and understood that there were people living
in the dreary
building. Nick led her inside.
Four old Indian men were seated on
rugs spread on the floor near the
fireplace. There was no other source of light in the
room. Nick greeted
them and they looked up, nodding. The old men mumbled
among themselves
and then shuffled on the floor making space for Nick
and Caitlin. A can
of beer was shoved into Caitlin’s hand and there was
silence. All men
made a point of not looking at her. They drank the beer
and sat looking
into the fire. After about twenty minutes the oldest
of the men turned
to Nick.
“You’ve come looking for answers,”
he said, and Nick nodded.
After another five minutes of silence
the old one turned to Nick
again.
“You may ask,” he said.
Nick took out the photograph that
he had showed to Caitlin earlier
and placed it in front of the fire.
“What killed this man?” he asked.
The photograph went from hand to hand.
Each man leaned closer to the
fire to see it better and then passed it along to the
next man. It was
returned to Nick and there was more silence.
“What animal could do this?” Nick’s
patience was running out. “A
wolf?”
“No animal,” the oldest one said.
“A man?!” There was excitement in
Nick’s voice.
“No man,” came the answer, and Nick
stared at them.
If they start babbling about witches
and evil spirits, Caitlin will
laugh her head off, Nick thought.
But the old men were silent again.
“They are not men and they are not
wolves, but they can pretend to
be both,” one of the men said.
“They don’t breathe,” another added.
“They don’t breed,” yet another voice.
The old men snickered.
“Yes, they don’t breed, but they can
pretend that they do.”
“And they are very good at it.” They
were giggling now.
“They don’t eat food like people do.
They live off people and they
can kill like animals.”
“They can hear and see and smell like
animals.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick
was disappointed and angry, and
it could be heard in his voice.
“They aren’t evil spirits,” the oldest
of the Indians turned to Nick
again. “They came with the white men, but they weren’t
like them. They
didn’t take our land and they didn’t kill our people.
There weren’t many
of them, and white men hunted them as they hunted us.”
“We thought white men had killed them
all,” another old Indian said.
“Apparently not.”
“What are you talking about?” Nick
repeated his question.
“Men who don’t die easily, but are
like dead when they sleep: very
strong men. Women too. Live in the night. They drink
human blood.”
Nick sighed with exasperation and
looked at Caitlin apologetically.
But Caitlin didn’t notice him. She stared wide-eyed at
the old Indians,
her face absolutely white.
Nick rose to his feet.
“Thank you, uncles,” he said. “Let’s
go Caitlin. It’s late. I’ll
drive you home.”
But when they were outside he told
her to wait a moment, he had
forgotten the file inside. He went back into the lodge,
picked up the
file and took the photograph of Julian Luna out of it.
Nick never forgot
anything. He showed it to his oldest uncle.
“Is he one of them?” he asked, but
the old man shrugged.
“You can’t tell from a picture,” he
said. “You must catch them
unaware. When they sleep or feed. Don’t ever try to shoot
one! Waste of
bullets.”
Nick turned to go, but the old man
wasn’t finished.
“If he’s got hold of that woman, there’s
nothing left for you?
Beware!”
Nick returned to Caitlin and they
drove back in silence. He tried to
engage her in a conversation but Caitlin refused to utter
a word. He
watched her walk towards her father’s house, and for
a short moment her
face was caught in the headlights of his pickup. Her
terror-stricken
countenance made him shiver. What was it among the babble
of his uncles
that had scared her so much? Nick wondered. For the first
time since
Joe’s death, Nick started to be afraid too.
Pierre de Guiche held court in a big
eighteenth century mansion
outside the city. When Julian and Arthur arrived, they
saw that holding
court was a perfect description. All it lacked were the
seventeenth
century clothes and wigs.
Pierre de Guiche was a middle-aged
man, rather thick around the
waist. His face was heavy, his eyes half-closed, as if
he were
permanently sleepy. It was said that he remembered the
Crusades.
He welcomed Julian and Arthur, but
did not inquire about the reason
for their visit.
Julian watched the congregation with
rising apprehension. Most of
the Kindred present were either Ventrue or Brujah, with
only a few
Toreador. No Nosferatu, no Gangrel, and very few females.
Julian beckoned to Arthur and his
bodyguard put one hand on Julian’s
shoulder, his face close to Julian’s as if they were
embracing.
“I’m afraid I’ve been mistaken,” Julian
whispered in Arthur’s ear.
“De Guiche is supporting Servio.”
Arthur nodded.
“We can hardly do anything about it
on our own,” he whispered back.
“We’ll have to or we’ll never get
out of here alive.” Julian had no
illusions. “We’ve been lured into a trap.”
Arthur’s grip on Julian’s shoulder
hardened.
“We haven’t got much time. By midnight
they’ll start leaving to
feed. We must think of something before then.”
“All right, start thinking and move
around.” Julian had already
started thinking himself. “There might be some Kindred
here who aren’t
too happy about Servio’s plan. It would help if we could
find them. Go
on!” He patted Arthur’s back. “I’ll concentrate on the
women,” he added,
making Arthur smile.
They disappeared from each other’s
sight among the Kindred entourage
of Marquis Pierre de Guiche, the Ventrue Prince of New
Orleans.
---