The Request
by Soledad Cartwright
A ''Pathways in the Dark'' story.
First part of the ''Prince of L.A.'' storyline.
Disclaimer:
Most of the characters in this story belong to their respective creators. Only Guillaume St. Onge and Giaronas DeBellevue are mine.
Lady Abigail and the other Tremere witches were borrowed from the Tremere Genealogy of White Wolf Online. I don't know a thing about them, but found the names pretty.
The concept of the Sisters of Greznich was borrowed form the excellent fanfic 'The Black Sheep' by Liliaeth, without authorization. However, it was me who made them all vampires.
Author's notes:
1. This is basically an Angel story, but in strong connection to Kindred: The Embraced and Poltergeist - The Legacy. There are also slight hints to other series, vampiric or not.
2. In the Angel/Buffy-timeline this story happens after 'Family' in Season 5 of Buffy and before the whole Pylea-storyline of 'Angel', which I've chosen to ignore. In my universe. Tara and Willow broke up shortly after 'Family'.
3. Tara already went through the Ritual Joining with Wesley and is now pregnant with their child. At the time, they're trying to find a cure for Amy, the Rat and the Sisters of Greznich have promised their help.
4. At this time, Angel isn't the Prince of L.A. yet. The Clan Primogens that surivived Cyrus' reign of horror will be gathering at the Tremere Chantry shortly, in order to discuss the return of the Camarilla to the City and the possible election of a new Prince. This story, however, happens entirely in the Chantry and deals with the inner conflicts of Clan Tremere. None of the Angel characters makes a guest appearance.
5. For visualization, Guillaume St. Onge is 'played' by French actor Renaud Marx (Inspector Kaplan), Giaronas DeBellevue by Jerome Anger (Inspecteur Trémois), both known form the French police series 'Julie Lescaut'... with slightly longer hair, of course.
6. Alvic DuLac is one nameless Tremere scholar of unknown generation I've found by White Wolf Online and gave him a name. He has the face of Roy Dupuis.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce - former Watcher and currently the associate of one Anarch vampire known as Angelus amongst L.A.'s undead society and Angel for his few mortal friends - had never been so scared in his entire life. No one could have blamed him for *that*, though, since Wesley was just about to pay an - uninvited - visit to the most respected and feared Witch Coven of South California, the Sisters of Greznich. As a fromer Watcher, Wesley was familiar with the supernatural, of course, and a couple of witches wouldn't have frightened him; contrary to popular belief, he was *not* a coward. His bone-deep insecurities didn't come from the lack of courage but from the decades-long discouragements he'd experienced from all possible sources; mostly from his own family. Still, he managed to get on with all the twists of his life and proved amazing results.
The Sisters of Greznich, however - or, as they were frequently called, the Weavers of Fate - weren't your average wannabe-Wiccans. They were, in fact - although very few mortals had ever heard about it - members of the Clan Tremere: the one of vampiric warlocks, witches and wizards. That was what the undead called them, anyway; the Tremere considered themselves ''magus'', using the word in singular *and* plural. They were said to be familiar with all the forgotten arts both mortals and undead ever practiced - and having developed quite a few new ones. No one, not even other vampires sociali-zed with the Tremere, unless they absolutely had to... the Clan was considered secretive. tracherous and moody, so it was healtier to avoid any contact with them.
Wesley, though, could not afford the luxury to stay away from Tremere territory. He and his Wiccan associates needed help with a particularly tricky transformation spell, and - after exhausting every other means - the Tremere witches were their last hope. So the ex-Watcher gathered all his considerable courage and rode his bike down to West-Hollywood, where the Sisters were said to have claimed territory.
The place they declared their own used to be a very small, very exclusive girls' school called College St. Onge. City history said, it had been foundated by Guillaume St. Onge, a French nobleman, whose family reached back to the early Middle Ages, for the education of the daughters of migrated French aristocratic families. City history wasn't aware of the fact, that the only girls that ever lived in the many-roomed, monastery-like, three-floor mansion, guarded by magick, huge, ancient trees and high stone walls, were Tremere apprentices - and by no means ''girls''. The Clan of the undead magus hardly ever Embraced young people - well, not until modern times, anyway, when the young ones were the only ones still affected by the supernatural -, so their neonates had usually gathered lots of experience before accepted into the Clan. That, and they had to be born with wiccan powers... otherwise they wouldn't have survived the transformation.
Wesley belonged to the rare mortals who were aware of the inner structure of undead society. Research had always been his true strength (although he was a crack shot and did increasingly better in hand-to-hand-combat), even during his days with the Watchers. After the old fools had fired him and he found himself working for one of the most feared - albeit in the meantime reformed - Anarch vampires in the last three centuries, whole new worlds opened in front of his amazed eyes. After the first, somewhat awkward months, Angel entrusted him his own knowledge about the undead... *and* he met someone who was even more informed about vampire society, having spent her entire life with research - and having sources not even Angel could have found. So, he was very well aware of the risk he was taking... he simply found necessary to do so.
Still, he hesitated a few moments in front of the massive oak gate before ringing the bell. The grey stone walls were very high, indeed, only the top of the trees could have been seen... and the gargoyles on the roof of the mansion itself. Wesley wondered briefly, whether they were of stone or actually the real thing... then the small, cut-in door in the gate swung open soundlessly. A short, puny goth kid stood at the threshold, clad entirely in black, with tousled, spiky black hair, black-painted fingernails and dramatic eye make-up. He couldn't have been older than twenty. Wesley found him vaguely familiar but couldn't really put his finger on it where they might have met before. Besides, he was somewhat surprised that the haughty and secretive Tremere would tolerate groupies on their own ground.
''What may I help you with?'' the kid asked with old-fashioned courtesy, and Wesley quickly revided his opinion. This guy wasn't a groupie... on the second sight he realized, the kid wasn't even alive any more. An apprentice, then.
''I respectfully ask for audience by the Regent of your Chantry, Lady Abigail'', the ex-Watcher answered politely. ''I came on the behalf of Angelus.''
The kid shot him a doubtful look; he couldn't really believe a biker-wannabe would work for Angelus. Wesley felt the need to explain.
''I don't have a car'', he added, ''and Angel needed his convertible for another mission.''
The kid shrugged.
''I can ask... What would your name be?''
''Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.''
''Right, the new Watcher'', the kid nodded. ''Now I knew why your were so familiar. But you look quite different without your three-piece tweed and tie.''
Wesley raised an eyebrow.
''So we *had* met before, hadn't we?''
''Yes we did. I went to Sunnydale High with Willow Rosenberg, but left school half a year before graduation. Having been almost burned at the stake made me feel uncomfortable, as you probably can imagine.''
Wesley took a closer look.
'Yes, I can remember. You were in that Wiccan group with Willow and another girl, Amy Madison. Michael... Michael Blake?''
''Yeah, that's me'', the boy fell black into typical speech pattern of his mortal age for a moment, then remembered his newly-learnt manners again. ''We have never been introduced, but Willow pointed you out to me.''
''*That* I can imagine'', Wesley replied darkly, but the boy shook his head.
''Nah, she actually *did* like you, but who'd have dared to speak up against *two* Slayers, *plus* Giles' authority? Okay, wait a sec, I'll announce our Regent your arrival.''
Instead of grabbing a phone or anything, the boy simply closed his eyes, his young face went blank. After a few moments he looked up at the tall ex-Watcher again.
''Lady Abigail can speak with you right now... if you don't mind the presence of her Archon. I guess you know what *that* means, since you've found us on the first place.''
Wesley nodded.
''Yes, I'm quite informed about Kindred social structure, thank you. And no, I don't mind the presence of anyone Lady Abigail finds necessery to listen.''
Michael grinned.
''You British people are incredible. I'll need at least a century to develop proper manners and your kind has them laid ready in the craddle.''
Wesley made a sour face.
''No, we haven't. You wouldn't like to know the methods they were trained us in.''
''I think I have an idea'', Michael responded with an equally wry face, then closed his eyes again for a moment. ''Okay, the Regent says I can bring you in. Follow me, please.''
He lead Wesley into the huge mansion, through another heavy oak front door, up on a wide marble staircase and along a curved, shadowy corridor. Finally, they reached another door of heavy, dark wood. Michael knocked shortly and opened it, without waiting for an answer, then hurried in, dropped to his knees and kissed the hand of a middle-aged woman sitting in a big, dark armchair.
''Wesley Wyndham-Pryce for you, Regent, in behalf of Angelus'', he announced.
The woman patted his tousled head affectionately and smiled.
''You're doing well, my dear. Return to your studies now.''
''Yes, milady. Thank you''. Michael stood and backed out of the room hurriedly.
The woman rose from her seat to welcome her visitor. She wasn't very tall, but firmly built, decidedly feminine in spite of her broad shoulders and strong arms, clad entirely in black silk and velvet: a long skirt and tunic with a short, round cape. Her reddish brown hair was pinned into a tight knot and she wore the traditional shroud of a high-ranking Tremere witch on her head. She wasn't pretty in the common meaning of the word, but quite impressive with her almost translucent white skin, gold-freckled steel-blue eyes, aristocratic features and the highly sophisticated power radiating from every pore of her. What's more, Wesley realized in surprise, she bore a certain resemblance to Sister Grace... and not a minor one.
''Welcome to the Los Angeles Chantry of Clan Tremere'', she said with a deep, smooth voice; she even had a similar accent as the nun. ''I must admit, I'm surprised that a mere mortal managed to find us.''
There wasnt any haughtiness in her speech pattern; after all, the undead magus could have expected mortals not to find them.
''I had some help'', Wesley admitted.
''Yes, I guess you had'', Lady Abigail nodded. ''Now, have a seat, please, so that we can discuss your agenda. Can I offer you some tea? Or wine perhaps?''
''Tea, please, if it's no inconvenience. I came by bike, wouldn't like to risk drinking.''
''Of course it isn't'', the vampire witch smiled slightly. ''Michael's Sire is of Japanese descent, so we always have some tea available.''
She gave a mental order, or so Wesley guessed since she didn't need to close her eyes or show any sign of it, and soon a fragile, elderly Japonese women slid in, clad in a black kimono, and offered the visitor some excellent green tea.
''Thank you, Kyoko, my dear'', Lady Abigail smiled, than introduced the newcomer to Wesley.''This is Kyoko Shinsegawa, my second. Kyoko, dear, this is Mr. Wyndham-Pryce.''
''The Watcher'', the Japonese witch nodded. ''Michael told me about you. He's a good Childe, eager to please. Which is why I asked Milady's permission to Embrace him.''
''That and his in-born powers'', the Tremere Regent added, smiling; then she nodded toward a tall, dark haired man, sitting in the shadowy background of the large room. ''And that's my Archon, Gillaume St. Onge.''
Wesley gaped in surprise. He knew, of course, that the Founder of this particular Chantry and former Pontifex of South California was, in fact, a 6th generation Tremere magus, a second grad progeny of Meerlinda herself, one of the seven members of the Tremere Inner Council, but he had no idea that the legendary vampire is still alive, much less still living in his former Domain.
He took a careful look. St. Onge, once a French aristocrat, wasn't the fragile, decadent kind of later centuries. After almost eight hundred years, his tall, muscular frame still showed the former warrior... a knight, used to wear heavy body armor, looking no less impressive in the traditional black slacks and tunic of his Clan. His face was hard and rough, too, that of a warrior, not of a court servant, his wavy black hair combed back, reaching his high collar. Wesley looked into the cold, motionless dark eyes and shivered for a second. As much as he was used to deal with vampires (with an impredictable souled one on the daily basis, before everything else), this one certainly gave him the creeps.
He felt the peeking intrusion of another mind in his head and his nervousness gave way to anger.
''Spying around in another people's head isn't very polite'', he said between clenched teeth, not caring if the vampires decide to make dinner of him for his foolish bravery.
To his surprise, Lady Abigail smiled.
''He's right, Gillaume'', she said to her Archon. ''He came openly, through the front door. We shouldn't treat him like an adversary.''
St. Onge shrugged.
''He's a resistant anyway'', he said with a rough voice and a faint French accent. ''Which is surprising... at the first sight he didn't show much strength.''
''People tend to underestimate me'', Wesley told him, thoroughly insulted now. ''Besides, I don't like when you speak of me as if I weren't here.''
The dark knight gave him a slight grin.
''You really have courage, Watcher. I like that. It's brave from someone *this* breakable. Foolish, but brave. Forgive my manners. I'm not used to deal with mortals anymore.''
''And *that* from someone who's at least a millennium younger than I am'', Lady Abigail shook her head. ''All right, gentlemen, if you're done with your little male bonding we probably could go on with our real business?''
St. Onge bowed his head.
''Forgive me, Milady.''
''I'm sorry'', Wesley added, blushing, which the vampires present seemed to find cute.
''So'', Lady Abigail dismissed the former topic,''what brings you to us, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce?''
Wesley decided to cut straight to the core.
''We need help to a very... delicate spell.''
''Who are we speaking about, exactly?'' Lady Abigail asked.
''There are two human witches living at the Hyperion'', Wesley explained. ''Well, actually three, but the third one, the most powerful of them, is currently a rat. Has been for over two years by now. She expelled the Transformation Ritual of Hecate to save her own life from the angry mob that tried to burn her on the stake, and we - that is, the other two witches - can't undo the spell. We've found the actual words in an old spellbook, but none of them is powerful enough to make it work. Not even Tara after the Rite of Sacred Joining, although we hoped it would work.''
Lady Abigail suddenly leanded closer and sniffed the air discretely.
''That was the unusual smell I felt as soon as you entered'', she said. ''You were the one who participated the Joining with her, right?''
Wesley nodded.
''Yeah. Does it matter?''
''Of course it matters'', the Tremere witch responded. ''Real witches, powerful ones, are very rare... we consider them our sisters. Since you helped one of them to full powers, you are from now on under our protection. So tell me: how can we help?''
''I wish I knew'', Wesley sighed. ''We could show you the spellbook, of course, or you can try one of your own Rituals... but we need Amy back to his human self desperately.''
''Why?'' the Japanese witch asked.
Wesley hesitated.
''You can trust us'', Lady Abigail said. ''Other people, even of our own kind, would tell you otherwise, but this Chantry has never betrayed an ally... or abandoned a protegé. Why do you need that young witch back so badly?''
''Have you ever heard of the Ravnos course that hit Angel?'' Wesley asked.
The witch nodded.
''Sure. We've always watched the fate of the Order of Aurelius. They were one of the most vicious Sabbat pack, a sect inside the sect... one of our deadliest adversaries. We especially watched Angelus' bloodline, since it originated from a Malkavian Seraph of the Black Hand. They could have changed the balance of power in Kindred society, wouldn't have Angelus gone Anarch shortly after his Becoming. They were the founders of the Antediluvian Cult, after all.''
''You mean that's why Angel promptly tried to send the whole world to Hell when he lost his soul again?'' Wesley asked; then rised a hand before the vampires could have corrected him. ''Yes, I know the expression is incorrect but it makes easier to talk about it, especially with other humans.''
''You're right, in both accounts'', Lady Abigail said. ''As I said, we know about the Ravnos course, and it worries us greatly. The Ravnos are an irresponsible bunch, playing with things they've no idea about. Should Angelus turn again, this City would fall for the Sabbat, completely. Or even worse.''
Wesley nodded.
''I know. The Setites. We burned out a Temple of them. But where's one, there could be another one. Or more. No one is able to know all the hellholes in the underbelly of the city.''
''I agree'', the Tremere witch said. ''And I think I know why you want to restore that young witch. You're trying to 'anchor Angelus' soul' permanently, to say it slappy, aren't you.''
''Yes, we are'', Wesley nodded, ''but the prophecy says, only the Power of Three is able to accomplish this task... bonding him to his soul-mate so that the Beast would stay sa-fely caged forever. We *have* to do this. The risk of him turning is simply too great, after the latest events... and his Sire, having returned from Hell, still around somewhere. Darla was the last one of their bloodline who took the so-called summoning of the order seriously... well, for a while anyway. She might return to that way again.''
''And so might Angelus himself'', St. Onge added darkly. ''Our Blood is very strong in him, in spite of his mixed heritage. Turned again, he'd prove worse than a Tremere antitribu. We can't allow that happen, Milady.''
''I *do* know that'', Lady Abigail responded, somewhat irritated. ''It was *me* who had to face the Black Hand, as you might remember. Now, since we all agree in this, I suggest, that we participate in the undoing that transformation ritual. And I suggest that we do it here, where we are the strongest.''
The other vampires nodded, but Wesley became uneasy. Lady Abigail noticed it, of course.
''What's wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.''
''It was. I'm just wondering... couldn't your magick prove to be harmful to a pregnant woman?''
''Did your little rat-witch mate another rodent?'' St. Onge asked with an arrogant smile.
Wesley blushed furiously, earning fond looks from the undead witches.
''Od course not! I'm concerned about Tara... but this is hardly something *you* could understand.''
He was so angry, he didn't even mind insulting a very old, very dangerous vampire. Luckily, St. Onge was occupied with his own memories.
''Well, you're wrong, Watcher'', he said with a centuries-old sadness in his rough voice. ''I, too, used to be a mortal, a long time ago... a husband and a father, until the enemies of my faith rode the country, burnt my house and killed my wife and children. I was ready to die when Geraint de Monfort found me and Embraced me. So, yes, I can understand your concern for your lover and your unborn child... and I can assure you, there is nothing potentially harmful to them. Children and pregnant women are sacrosanct and untouchable according to Kindred law, and the Tremere always honoured our laws.''
''She's not my lover'', Wesley said, with a bitterness that surprised him. ''I'm just the father of her child.''
''What isn't yet, can be in the future'', the Japanese witch said softly. ''Don't dwell in your bitterness... it will eat up your soul.''
Wesley shook his head, refusing to discuss the topic, and the vampires didn't press the matter. It wasn't their business, after all.
''We'll select the right time tonight'', Lady Abigail promised'', and you can bring Amy to us for a re-transformation ritual. Where could we reach you?''
Wesley handled him the business card of Angel Investigations.
''There is always someone in our office... or, at least, the answering machine working. We check the messages twice a day. Thank you.''
''Thank us when we're done'', Lady Abigail smiled.
Wesley thanked again and left. The vampires remained in Lady Abigail's study for a while, discussing these new events among them.
''I do believe that this turn will work for the better'', Lady Abigail stated finally. ''We might see the order of the Camarilla returning into this City after all.''
''It won't be easy'', St. Onge said grimly. ''Cyrus almost extinguished most of the Clans, especially the Gangrel and the Ventrue, although the Nosfratu have already started migrating back to their sewers. But right now, only the Toreador can hold their strength. And a Toreador Prince isn't something I can imagine to resist the Sabbat infiltration.''
''Neither am I'', Lady Abigail replied, ''But I think there are other solutions. We need to talk to the remaining Primogens of the City.''
The End
by Soledad Cartwright
A ''Pathways in the Dark'' story.
First part of the ''Prince of L.A.'' storyline.
Disclaimer:
Most of the characters in this story belong to their respective creators. Only Guillaume St. Onge and Giaronas DeBellevue are mine.
Lady Abigail and the other Tremere witches were borrowed from the Tremere Genealogy of White Wolf Online. I don't know a thing about them, but found the names pretty.
The concept of the Sisters of Greznich was borrowed form the excellent fanfic 'The Black Sheep' by Liliaeth, without authorization. However, it was me who made them all vampires.
Author's notes:
1. This is basically an Angel story, but in strong connection to Kindred: The Embraced and Poltergeist - The Legacy. There are also slight hints to other series, vampiric or not.
2. In the Angel/Buffy-timeline this story happens after 'Family' in Season 5 of Buffy and before the whole Pylea-storyline of 'Angel', which I've chosen to ignore. In my universe. Tara and Willow broke up shortly after 'Family'.
3. Tara already went through the Ritual Joining with Wesley and is now pregnant with their child. At the time, they're trying to find a cure for Amy, the Rat and the Sisters of Greznich have promised their help.
4. At this time, Angel isn't the Prince of L.A. yet. The Clan Primogens that surivived Cyrus' reign of horror will be gathering at the Tremere Chantry shortly, in order to discuss the return of the Camarilla to the City and the possible election of a new Prince. This story, however, happens entirely in the Chantry and deals with the inner conflicts of Clan Tremere. None of the Angel characters makes a guest appearance.
5. For visualization, Guillaume St. Onge is 'played' by French actor Renaud Marx (Inspector Kaplan), Giaronas DeBellevue by Jerome Anger (Inspecteur Trémois), both known form the French police series 'Julie Lescaut'... with slightly longer hair, of course.
6. Alvic DuLac is one nameless Tremere scholar of unknown generation I've found by White Wolf Online and gave him a name. He has the face of Roy Dupuis.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce - former Watcher and currently the associate of one Anarch vampire known as Angelus amongst L.A.'s undead society and Angel for his few mortal friends - had never been so scared in his entire life. No one could have blamed him for *that*, though, since Wesley was just about to pay an - uninvited - visit to the most respected and feared Witch Coven of South California, the Sisters of Greznich. As a fromer Watcher, Wesley was familiar with the supernatural, of course, and a couple of witches wouldn't have frightened him; contrary to popular belief, he was *not* a coward. His bone-deep insecurities didn't come from the lack of courage but from the decades-long discouragements he'd experienced from all possible sources; mostly from his own family. Still, he managed to get on with all the twists of his life and proved amazing results.
The Sisters of Greznich, however - or, as they were frequently called, the Weavers of Fate - weren't your average wannabe-Wiccans. They were, in fact - although very few mortals had ever heard about it - members of the Clan Tremere: the one of vampiric warlocks, witches and wizards. That was what the undead called them, anyway; the Tremere considered themselves ''magus'', using the word in singular *and* plural. They were said to be familiar with all the forgotten arts both mortals and undead ever practiced - and having developed quite a few new ones. No one, not even other vampires sociali-zed with the Tremere, unless they absolutely had to... the Clan was considered secretive. tracherous and moody, so it was healtier to avoid any contact with them.
Wesley, though, could not afford the luxury to stay away from Tremere territory. He and his Wiccan associates needed help with a particularly tricky transformation spell, and - after exhausting every other means - the Tremere witches were their last hope. So the ex-Watcher gathered all his considerable courage and rode his bike down to West-Hollywood, where the Sisters were said to have claimed territory.
The place they declared their own used to be a very small, very exclusive girls' school called College St. Onge. City history said, it had been foundated by Guillaume St. Onge, a French nobleman, whose family reached back to the early Middle Ages, for the education of the daughters of migrated French aristocratic families. City history wasn't aware of the fact, that the only girls that ever lived in the many-roomed, monastery-like, three-floor mansion, guarded by magick, huge, ancient trees and high stone walls, were Tremere apprentices - and by no means ''girls''. The Clan of the undead magus hardly ever Embraced young people - well, not until modern times, anyway, when the young ones were the only ones still affected by the supernatural -, so their neonates had usually gathered lots of experience before accepted into the Clan. That, and they had to be born with wiccan powers... otherwise they wouldn't have survived the transformation.
Wesley belonged to the rare mortals who were aware of the inner structure of undead society. Research had always been his true strength (although he was a crack shot and did increasingly better in hand-to-hand-combat), even during his days with the Watchers. After the old fools had fired him and he found himself working for one of the most feared - albeit in the meantime reformed - Anarch vampires in the last three centuries, whole new worlds opened in front of his amazed eyes. After the first, somewhat awkward months, Angel entrusted him his own knowledge about the undead... *and* he met someone who was even more informed about vampire society, having spent her entire life with research - and having sources not even Angel could have found. So, he was very well aware of the risk he was taking... he simply found necessary to do so.
Still, he hesitated a few moments in front of the massive oak gate before ringing the bell. The grey stone walls were very high, indeed, only the top of the trees could have been seen... and the gargoyles on the roof of the mansion itself. Wesley wondered briefly, whether they were of stone or actually the real thing... then the small, cut-in door in the gate swung open soundlessly. A short, puny goth kid stood at the threshold, clad entirely in black, with tousled, spiky black hair, black-painted fingernails and dramatic eye make-up. He couldn't have been older than twenty. Wesley found him vaguely familiar but couldn't really put his finger on it where they might have met before. Besides, he was somewhat surprised that the haughty and secretive Tremere would tolerate groupies on their own ground.
''What may I help you with?'' the kid asked with old-fashioned courtesy, and Wesley quickly revided his opinion. This guy wasn't a groupie... on the second sight he realized, the kid wasn't even alive any more. An apprentice, then.
''I respectfully ask for audience by the Regent of your Chantry, Lady Abigail'', the ex-Watcher answered politely. ''I came on the behalf of Angelus.''
The kid shot him a doubtful look; he couldn't really believe a biker-wannabe would work for Angelus. Wesley felt the need to explain.
''I don't have a car'', he added, ''and Angel needed his convertible for another mission.''
The kid shrugged.
''I can ask... What would your name be?''
''Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.''
''Right, the new Watcher'', the kid nodded. ''Now I knew why your were so familiar. But you look quite different without your three-piece tweed and tie.''
Wesley raised an eyebrow.
''So we *had* met before, hadn't we?''
''Yes we did. I went to Sunnydale High with Willow Rosenberg, but left school half a year before graduation. Having been almost burned at the stake made me feel uncomfortable, as you probably can imagine.''
Wesley took a closer look.
'Yes, I can remember. You were in that Wiccan group with Willow and another girl, Amy Madison. Michael... Michael Blake?''
''Yeah, that's me'', the boy fell black into typical speech pattern of his mortal age for a moment, then remembered his newly-learnt manners again. ''We have never been introduced, but Willow pointed you out to me.''
''*That* I can imagine'', Wesley replied darkly, but the boy shook his head.
''Nah, she actually *did* like you, but who'd have dared to speak up against *two* Slayers, *plus* Giles' authority? Okay, wait a sec, I'll announce our Regent your arrival.''
Instead of grabbing a phone or anything, the boy simply closed his eyes, his young face went blank. After a few moments he looked up at the tall ex-Watcher again.
''Lady Abigail can speak with you right now... if you don't mind the presence of her Archon. I guess you know what *that* means, since you've found us on the first place.''
Wesley nodded.
''Yes, I'm quite informed about Kindred social structure, thank you. And no, I don't mind the presence of anyone Lady Abigail finds necessery to listen.''
Michael grinned.
''You British people are incredible. I'll need at least a century to develop proper manners and your kind has them laid ready in the craddle.''
Wesley made a sour face.
''No, we haven't. You wouldn't like to know the methods they were trained us in.''
''I think I have an idea'', Michael responded with an equally wry face, then closed his eyes again for a moment. ''Okay, the Regent says I can bring you in. Follow me, please.''
He lead Wesley into the huge mansion, through another heavy oak front door, up on a wide marble staircase and along a curved, shadowy corridor. Finally, they reached another door of heavy, dark wood. Michael knocked shortly and opened it, without waiting for an answer, then hurried in, dropped to his knees and kissed the hand of a middle-aged woman sitting in a big, dark armchair.
''Wesley Wyndham-Pryce for you, Regent, in behalf of Angelus'', he announced.
The woman patted his tousled head affectionately and smiled.
''You're doing well, my dear. Return to your studies now.''
''Yes, milady. Thank you''. Michael stood and backed out of the room hurriedly.
The woman rose from her seat to welcome her visitor. She wasn't very tall, but firmly built, decidedly feminine in spite of her broad shoulders and strong arms, clad entirely in black silk and velvet: a long skirt and tunic with a short, round cape. Her reddish brown hair was pinned into a tight knot and she wore the traditional shroud of a high-ranking Tremere witch on her head. She wasn't pretty in the common meaning of the word, but quite impressive with her almost translucent white skin, gold-freckled steel-blue eyes, aristocratic features and the highly sophisticated power radiating from every pore of her. What's more, Wesley realized in surprise, she bore a certain resemblance to Sister Grace... and not a minor one.
''Welcome to the Los Angeles Chantry of Clan Tremere'', she said with a deep, smooth voice; she even had a similar accent as the nun. ''I must admit, I'm surprised that a mere mortal managed to find us.''
There wasnt any haughtiness in her speech pattern; after all, the undead magus could have expected mortals not to find them.
''I had some help'', Wesley admitted.
''Yes, I guess you had'', Lady Abigail nodded. ''Now, have a seat, please, so that we can discuss your agenda. Can I offer you some tea? Or wine perhaps?''
''Tea, please, if it's no inconvenience. I came by bike, wouldn't like to risk drinking.''
''Of course it isn't'', the vampire witch smiled slightly. ''Michael's Sire is of Japanese descent, so we always have some tea available.''
She gave a mental order, or so Wesley guessed since she didn't need to close her eyes or show any sign of it, and soon a fragile, elderly Japonese women slid in, clad in a black kimono, and offered the visitor some excellent green tea.
''Thank you, Kyoko, my dear'', Lady Abigail smiled, than introduced the newcomer to Wesley.''This is Kyoko Shinsegawa, my second. Kyoko, dear, this is Mr. Wyndham-Pryce.''
''The Watcher'', the Japonese witch nodded. ''Michael told me about you. He's a good Childe, eager to please. Which is why I asked Milady's permission to Embrace him.''
''That and his in-born powers'', the Tremere Regent added, smiling; then she nodded toward a tall, dark haired man, sitting in the shadowy background of the large room. ''And that's my Archon, Gillaume St. Onge.''
Wesley gaped in surprise. He knew, of course, that the Founder of this particular Chantry and former Pontifex of South California was, in fact, a 6th generation Tremere magus, a second grad progeny of Meerlinda herself, one of the seven members of the Tremere Inner Council, but he had no idea that the legendary vampire is still alive, much less still living in his former Domain.
He took a careful look. St. Onge, once a French aristocrat, wasn't the fragile, decadent kind of later centuries. After almost eight hundred years, his tall, muscular frame still showed the former warrior... a knight, used to wear heavy body armor, looking no less impressive in the traditional black slacks and tunic of his Clan. His face was hard and rough, too, that of a warrior, not of a court servant, his wavy black hair combed back, reaching his high collar. Wesley looked into the cold, motionless dark eyes and shivered for a second. As much as he was used to deal with vampires (with an impredictable souled one on the daily basis, before everything else), this one certainly gave him the creeps.
He felt the peeking intrusion of another mind in his head and his nervousness gave way to anger.
''Spying around in another people's head isn't very polite'', he said between clenched teeth, not caring if the vampires decide to make dinner of him for his foolish bravery.
To his surprise, Lady Abigail smiled.
''He's right, Gillaume'', she said to her Archon. ''He came openly, through the front door. We shouldn't treat him like an adversary.''
St. Onge shrugged.
''He's a resistant anyway'', he said with a rough voice and a faint French accent. ''Which is surprising... at the first sight he didn't show much strength.''
''People tend to underestimate me'', Wesley told him, thoroughly insulted now. ''Besides, I don't like when you speak of me as if I weren't here.''
The dark knight gave him a slight grin.
''You really have courage, Watcher. I like that. It's brave from someone *this* breakable. Foolish, but brave. Forgive my manners. I'm not used to deal with mortals anymore.''
''And *that* from someone who's at least a millennium younger than I am'', Lady Abigail shook her head. ''All right, gentlemen, if you're done with your little male bonding we probably could go on with our real business?''
St. Onge bowed his head.
''Forgive me, Milady.''
''I'm sorry'', Wesley added, blushing, which the vampires present seemed to find cute.
''So'', Lady Abigail dismissed the former topic,''what brings you to us, Mr. Wyndham-Pryce?''
Wesley decided to cut straight to the core.
''We need help to a very... delicate spell.''
''Who are we speaking about, exactly?'' Lady Abigail asked.
''There are two human witches living at the Hyperion'', Wesley explained. ''Well, actually three, but the third one, the most powerful of them, is currently a rat. Has been for over two years by now. She expelled the Transformation Ritual of Hecate to save her own life from the angry mob that tried to burn her on the stake, and we - that is, the other two witches - can't undo the spell. We've found the actual words in an old spellbook, but none of them is powerful enough to make it work. Not even Tara after the Rite of Sacred Joining, although we hoped it would work.''
Lady Abigail suddenly leanded closer and sniffed the air discretely.
''That was the unusual smell I felt as soon as you entered'', she said. ''You were the one who participated the Joining with her, right?''
Wesley nodded.
''Yeah. Does it matter?''
''Of course it matters'', the Tremere witch responded. ''Real witches, powerful ones, are very rare... we consider them our sisters. Since you helped one of them to full powers, you are from now on under our protection. So tell me: how can we help?''
''I wish I knew'', Wesley sighed. ''We could show you the spellbook, of course, or you can try one of your own Rituals... but we need Amy back to his human self desperately.''
''Why?'' the Japanese witch asked.
Wesley hesitated.
''You can trust us'', Lady Abigail said. ''Other people, even of our own kind, would tell you otherwise, but this Chantry has never betrayed an ally... or abandoned a protegé. Why do you need that young witch back so badly?''
''Have you ever heard of the Ravnos course that hit Angel?'' Wesley asked.
The witch nodded.
''Sure. We've always watched the fate of the Order of Aurelius. They were one of the most vicious Sabbat pack, a sect inside the sect... one of our deadliest adversaries. We especially watched Angelus' bloodline, since it originated from a Malkavian Seraph of the Black Hand. They could have changed the balance of power in Kindred society, wouldn't have Angelus gone Anarch shortly after his Becoming. They were the founders of the Antediluvian Cult, after all.''
''You mean that's why Angel promptly tried to send the whole world to Hell when he lost his soul again?'' Wesley asked; then rised a hand before the vampires could have corrected him. ''Yes, I know the expression is incorrect but it makes easier to talk about it, especially with other humans.''
''You're right, in both accounts'', Lady Abigail said. ''As I said, we know about the Ravnos course, and it worries us greatly. The Ravnos are an irresponsible bunch, playing with things they've no idea about. Should Angelus turn again, this City would fall for the Sabbat, completely. Or even worse.''
Wesley nodded.
''I know. The Setites. We burned out a Temple of them. But where's one, there could be another one. Or more. No one is able to know all the hellholes in the underbelly of the city.''
''I agree'', the Tremere witch said. ''And I think I know why you want to restore that young witch. You're trying to 'anchor Angelus' soul' permanently, to say it slappy, aren't you.''
''Yes, we are'', Wesley nodded, ''but the prophecy says, only the Power of Three is able to accomplish this task... bonding him to his soul-mate so that the Beast would stay sa-fely caged forever. We *have* to do this. The risk of him turning is simply too great, after the latest events... and his Sire, having returned from Hell, still around somewhere. Darla was the last one of their bloodline who took the so-called summoning of the order seriously... well, for a while anyway. She might return to that way again.''
''And so might Angelus himself'', St. Onge added darkly. ''Our Blood is very strong in him, in spite of his mixed heritage. Turned again, he'd prove worse than a Tremere antitribu. We can't allow that happen, Milady.''
''I *do* know that'', Lady Abigail responded, somewhat irritated. ''It was *me* who had to face the Black Hand, as you might remember. Now, since we all agree in this, I suggest, that we participate in the undoing that transformation ritual. And I suggest that we do it here, where we are the strongest.''
The other vampires nodded, but Wesley became uneasy. Lady Abigail noticed it, of course.
''What's wrong? I thought this was what you wanted.''
''It was. I'm just wondering... couldn't your magick prove to be harmful to a pregnant woman?''
''Did your little rat-witch mate another rodent?'' St. Onge asked with an arrogant smile.
Wesley blushed furiously, earning fond looks from the undead witches.
''Od course not! I'm concerned about Tara... but this is hardly something *you* could understand.''
He was so angry, he didn't even mind insulting a very old, very dangerous vampire. Luckily, St. Onge was occupied with his own memories.
''Well, you're wrong, Watcher'', he said with a centuries-old sadness in his rough voice. ''I, too, used to be a mortal, a long time ago... a husband and a father, until the enemies of my faith rode the country, burnt my house and killed my wife and children. I was ready to die when Geraint de Monfort found me and Embraced me. So, yes, I can understand your concern for your lover and your unborn child... and I can assure you, there is nothing potentially harmful to them. Children and pregnant women are sacrosanct and untouchable according to Kindred law, and the Tremere always honoured our laws.''
''She's not my lover'', Wesley said, with a bitterness that surprised him. ''I'm just the father of her child.''
''What isn't yet, can be in the future'', the Japanese witch said softly. ''Don't dwell in your bitterness... it will eat up your soul.''
Wesley shook his head, refusing to discuss the topic, and the vampires didn't press the matter. It wasn't their business, after all.
''We'll select the right time tonight'', Lady Abigail promised'', and you can bring Amy to us for a re-transformation ritual. Where could we reach you?''
Wesley handled him the business card of Angel Investigations.
''There is always someone in our office... or, at least, the answering machine working. We check the messages twice a day. Thank you.''
''Thank us when we're done'', Lady Abigail smiled.
Wesley thanked again and left. The vampires remained in Lady Abigail's study for a while, discussing these new events among them.
''I do believe that this turn will work for the better'', Lady Abigail stated finally. ''We might see the order of the Camarilla returning into this City after all.''
''It won't be easy'', St. Onge said grimly. ''Cyrus almost extinguished most of the Clans, especially the Gangrel and the Ventrue, although the Nosfratu have already started migrating back to their sewers. But right now, only the Toreador can hold their strength. And a Toreador Prince isn't something I can imagine to resist the Sabbat infiltration.''
''Neither am I'', Lady Abigail replied, ''But I think there are other solutions. We need to talk to the remaining Primogens of the City.''
The End