Epilogue
"...Police are still investigating what spokesmen have called 'a night of shocking gang-related violence' including the attack on recently opened nightclub Pandora's Box and a gun battle at the abandoned meat-works. Police are unsure as to the causes of last week's atrocities and are urging anybody with any information to contact the Miami Police Department-" I pointed the remote at the TV in my hotel room and clicked it off.
"Gang-related violence? Really, is that the best the Camarilla can come up with to cover up what happened?" I asked. Beside me, Sandrine, clad in her usual business suit, shrugged and said, "We considered concocting a tale about Mexican people smugglers and the Colombian drug cartel but decided gang-related violence was an easier sell."
It was my last night in Miami, and, after the events following my arrival, Sandrine and I had become close friends. She'd taken time off from her restructure of the Camarilla to say goodbye to me personally. We stood and she embraced me fiercely. As she released me and stepped back, I felt a prickle in my eyes and a tear slid down my cheek. As I wiped it away I said, "You're like the little sister I never had. I'm gonna miss you."
"And I you," Sandrine answered. "If you ever decided to relocate here permanently, there will always be a place for you here."
The End.
