The night after the Garou escapade ended with no clear resolution in sight, Marie sat at a highly polished table in the formal dining room of the Wolf House.
"Julian Luna," she began. "You are vile. You are evil. And I hate you."
The evil man in question merely smiled, his unevenly colored eyes crinkled in humor. "Perhaps. But you are still going to eat that pasta."
"Tell me why I have to do this again? Please. I beg you," she said with venom dripping off her sarcastic words. The smell of the food in front of her made her gag in disgust.
"Begging is nice. Having my Childe beg me for something gives me a reason to rise out of my bed every evening," he said cheerfully. "But it's not going to get you out of this very important lesson." Julian picked up her fork and rolled up a long strand of the pasta around the tines. As he brought the pasta up to her mouth to feed her, she growled at the offending item. The closer it got to her mouth, the louder the growl became. When the fork touched her lips, she looked directly into her Sire's eyes and glared daggers at him, pressing her lips tightly together in a line. Refusing to eat.
He carefully placed the loaded fork down on her plate and sighed. "Marie. You must do this. In order to preserve the Masquerade in public, you must do this. And you must become accustomed to it so that you do not betray your true feelings about how it makes your body feel. You will be able to get rid of the food later, but right now you have to get the food in you."
"No."
The Prince frowned slightly and then got up out of his chair beside her. "Fine. You'll stay in this room until that plate is empty." And he walked out, locking the set of double doors behind him.
Four hours later after much pacing and growling at no one in particular, Marie swallowed the last slimy, disgusting, white noodle.
She immediately ran to the doors and started pounding on them to be let out.
Julian chuckled and unlocked the doors to greet his angry Childe. As he opened his mouth to ask her how she was, he was rewarded with white noodles flying all over his shoes and a heaving and gagging woman pressing her forehead against his chest. Marie had puked on him.
After recovering from the shock, he patted her back. "It's alright, Marie. It happens to us all the first few times. We're not always able to make it to the trash can in enough time. Don't be ashamed. "
"Ashamed," she sniffed. "I'm not ashamed. You should be ashamed. You should have known I hate alfredo sauce!" She hissed at him, fangs bared, before stomping out of the dining room.
Her friendship with Daedalus took a few more nights to repair than she hoped. He had been away in the underbelly of the city with his Clanmates trying to figure out where the killer Garou was hiding.
Contact had finally been made with a representative of the local pack and from what Julian had told her, the one who murdered Grace had gone rogue some time ago. The rogue Garou was exiled and that was when disaster struck and the peace pact broken.
The meeting between the Prince of San Francisco and the leader of the Garou pack was tense but informative. Both species were mortal enemies due to the religious beliefs of the Garou; Kindred were vermin and the 'leeches' of humanity and Gaia. After centuries of strife, peace had been found between them. Both agreed to live and let live. With humanity encroaching on the Garou's territory more and more with every passing day, they could not afford to alienate a possible strong ally. Especially since Kindred society had matured over the years and tried to strike a balance between keeping the Masquerade while still making their way in society. What affected Garou affected Kindred. And if something threatened Garou then help from Kindred would be the most effective means to eradicate it. A very delicate balancing act.
But this rogue killer brought a question to the forefront. Who would hunt him? And would both species agree to work together? Could they even manage to do such a thing after so many years of animosity?
The Garou disagreed, as did Julian. Such a thing would be akin to telling the Gangrel one night that they were not allowed to hate the Brujah and vice versa. Impossible.
The compromise would be that if any Garou were found then that beast would not be killed but wounded and then imprisoned until judgment could be made. The leader of the pack would be responsible for meting out that judgment, not a Kindred Prince. The other half of this of course was that the 'good' Garou would remain out of sight as much as possible to alleviate any possible mistaken identity. With both Garou and Kindred in accord, they departed company.
Marie stood as her mentor entered the dank tunnel before her. The Nosferatu lowered the cowl of his robe and exposed his face to the candlelight. "Little one, what are you doing here?"
"Looking for you," she answered shortly. "Have you had any luck finding the killer yet?"
Daedalus shook his head negatively and then took a seat on a rickety wooden chair close to her. "How did you find this place without dying in the process," he asked while gesturing to the cavern they were in. The entire place was booby trapped.
"Common sense and a flashlight."
Good grief this girl was trouble. Pretty soon she'd ferret out every one of his hiding places. "This is not a place for you, Marie. If other Nosferatu saw you here without me they would likely attack you."
Marie's eyebrows raised haughtily. "And if my Sire knew that a Nosferatu had attacked me... then what?"
"You would be left to explain yourself to you Sire," he said simply. "One does not wander into the haven of a Nosferatu without permission. It is not done."
She looked away and licked her lips. A sigh. "So now you consider me rude to have entered this place."
Marie started to apologize but he interrupted as soon as she opened her mouth. "Most Kindred obey their instincts and stay away from any place that may be a Nosferatu's haven. But you seem willing enough to barge right in. So fine. Come in at your leisure. But if you suddenly find yourself unable to remember your name or clucking like a chicken for a week because one of my Clanmates mesmerized you, don't come crying to me."
Thirty minutes later in Daedalus' haven in the gatehouse...
Marie stood in his living room which doubled as his painting gallery and murmured lowly, "You're not going to tell my Sire, are you?"
"I don't know. Depends on you. You're going to have to offer me a much greater incentive than what he is currently offering. I've always wanted a servant," he admitted.