Chapter 22 = Betraying Trust

September 30, 2004 = Thursday

Driving versus riding a motorcycle is like riding in a car versus driving it. You might see most of what was going on, but it's different than doing it yourself. Getting the rhythm of hitting the clutch while shifting the transmission was difficult, but soon I had the bike up over eighty-five. I tried to shift up again, but that was about as fast as it would go.

Not bad, making sure to remember that the shift pattern was one down and four up as I tooled it down the highway. I passed a few cars as I went along the main roads back to downtown, then figured I was going to need a map so I could find way around this town. Finding Lacroix tower, though, was easy. Follow the beacon.

Pulling up in front of Lacroix Tower, I parked it under a light to better examine it. First thing I noticed was it was a black with bright red striping on the gas tank and fenders, which seemed an odd accent to the dark color scheme. It had full seat, rolling over the rear wheel fender and gave it a nice little seat back, which made it comfortable to ride. There was also no back rest for the rear passenger, but there was a set of feet rests for the passenger which made me wonder who was riding with the hunter. The bike also had a set of saddlebags bolted over the rear wheel, giving me some space to store items and transport them to different places.

All in all, a good bike, and I was definitely thinking of keeping it. A painted emblem on the fuel tank caught my eye. I knelt down, adjusting the bike to better reflect the silver, black and red emblem. The Harley Davidson logo stood in stark relief, and I smiled. I thought I recognized the characteristic lub of a Harley motor, but I wasn't sure. Well, definitely keeping it. If for no other reason than so I could split lanes to cut through traffic when returning home.

I crossed over the street to the tower, and went in. Chunk sat at the front desk, throwing tator tots in the air to catch them with his mouth. He stopped as I got near, then smiled as he wiped his salty fingers on his pants.

"Evening," he said, then sniffed and shook his head. "You smell something burning? Smells like someone burnt the burgers."

I feigned sniffing, then looked at him, smiling at the security guard. "I don't smell anything. I've got an appointment with Lacroix. He's expecting me."

"Sure, I'll open her up," he said, and I started walking around the security post to the main elevators, as Chunk leaned back in his chair and began talking again. "Aw geez, I could go for I could go for one of them double Space Burgers, with the onions, the cheese, some bacon and that guacomole..."

I was thankfully spared his choice of greasy food items as the elevator doors sealed me in and I ascended to Camarilla Offices. The doors opened and as I stepped through to head for Lacroix's private lift, caught sight of a familiar face down a corridor.

"Jean!" I called, making the former legend stop. I hurried down the hall as fast as my heeled feet could carry me until I was standing right beside her. She was slightly hunched over with her arms around her middle and her face had a sour look to it. "Hey, you alright?"

"I will be. Just so you know, there's a trial tomorrow at nine. Masquerade breaker by the name of Jose. He was a Brujah," she said, not really looking at me. "After his trial, his ghoul will be presented to find out if anyone wants to add her to their personal coterie."

"Jean, that doesn't answer my question," I said, getting concerned. "All you alright? You seem out of it."

"Yeah, it's just," she paused, looking down at her boots. "Being a deputy in the Camarilla isn't always about bringing in the bad guy. We have to keep the masquerade, too. Jose, he...he lost control of his beast and killed three people. Then he fed from some poor girl while her best friend watched. We found out when she called 911 screaming for help about a monster, and we got there first. Jose is staked and I..." Jean paused as she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She didn't need to finish, I already could guess what happened next.

We were kindred. Our very existence is a secret we kill to protect. With such a blatant violation, there was no way of playing it off, so Jean had killed the poor girl for nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. For the Gangrel though, she obviously didn't like having to kill the innocent, but she had done it and was having remorse over it. I wrapped my arms around her, and gave her a hug. She returned the hug, briefly, before straightening up.

"Thanks," she said. "So what rock did Grout hide under?"

"He was killed," I told her, deciding not to tell her then about Nines. "I found his remains tied to his bed with a stake in his ribcage. The rest of him was ash on his bed."

Jean nodded, "Did you have to burn the house down?"

"I think they were vampire hunters, and they seemed to know Grout was kindred. They torched his house, I barely got out of their alive," I told her, her eyes wide at the horror I spoke of. "One of the hunters is a newbie with motorcycles, and I waylaid him before he could leave. Left him out cold in front of Grout's and left on his Harley."

"Nice, at least you got something out of it, besides becoming fertilizer."

"Yeah, thinking of keeping it, so I don't get stuck in traffic again," I told her, as she began walking deeper into the tower. "I got burned by the sun when I got stuck in traffic."

"A hog would do it," she agreed as we turned some corner and reached a door. "Well, I have to meet with the other deputies and figure out if we're needed anywhere. Seems like there's always a fire to put out."

"If you need someone to talk to, you can always talk to me, okay? It's the least I can do Marilyn," I told her.

"Finally figure it out? Yeah, keep it to yourself, okay? I wouldn't have even admitted what I did if it wasn't for your blood doll," she told me.

"You know, if she remembers seeing you, and that she was too out of it to do more than mumble, she's going to stake me."

"Maybe I'll drop by again sometime," she said, opening the door and slipping inside. I got a glimpse of a room full of people, most in T-shirts and polos, with a few men in suits. All looked capable, and that was enough to ensure I never wanted to break masquerade. I wouldn't last.

With nothing left to anchor me to the door, I began to drift down the hallways, trying to figure out where the elevators were when I heard a pair of voices coming towards me. One was very German and loud, while the other was more restrained, but familiar. Herr Mueller and Regent Strauss. I could feel my beast stir, so I looked around for a hiding spot, then ducked inside a door. Turned out to be a maintenance closet, and pressed my ear to the door. I silently wished I could see what was going on, when my perspective changed and I had a bird's eye view of outside.

"And I say she'd be better kept from returning to the Sabbat if we had made her a primogen! Her desire for personal power would have ensured she stayed with the Camarilla!" Strauss said through clenched teeth.

"That mewling hündin won't be allowed from under her boon to the Prince until we have her so buried under favors that she can't even function. And as Harpy, I will make sure of it!" Herr Mueller yelled back. I didn't know what he called me, but I was tempted to drop in on them and call him out for it.

"She is more powerful than we give her credit for, and your tactic of a suicide run may not have driven a large enough wedge between her and Andrei. She is just a fledgling struggling to survive, not hours old when we ripped her from their clutches. She may still return!"

"And if she does leave while owing so much as a boon, I'll call her in contempt and have the Sheriff bring her to trial. Let us Ventrue handle the Lasombra, Strauss. Return to your chantry and train your people in your blood magics. It's what you know best," he said, uttering the last sentence as he walked away.

I 'turned' to see where he went, and Strauss gazed upwards, seemingly looking at me. If my form still had eyes, we would have been staring at each other. It was Strauss who broke the staring contest, as he shook his head. "I fear she is far more powerful than even I give her credit for," he said, walking away. I watched him go, waiting until he had rounded a corner before I let myself snap back into my body. It was an odd experience, existing that way, and I had to try that again sometime if only to figure out what had happened.

I left the closet, heading down the hallways before finding a sign with directions back to the elevator. It wasn't far and soon I was heading up to the prince. I couldn't help think of what Herr Mueller said about not getting out from under my boon. If I couldn't force the prince to settle it, I was going to be stuck working for him for many long nights. There had to be a way out, maybe if I somehow got the harpy changed to another person, they might release me. I also needed to know if their were any rules about boons and how they were paid.

Once at the elevator, I took it up to the top where the men guarding the door opened it to allow me in. Lacroix stood behind his desk, going through various pieces of paperwork. The Sheriff still stood right behind him, the large sword very visible on his back. I was noticed as I walked through the large room, my heels clicking on the floor.

"The primogen still haven't been contacted by Grout. I thought I made it clear that you were not supposed to come back until we had heard from him."

"Grout was staked and murdered. I found his remains in his room," I told him as I came to stand before his desk.

"Grout is dead? What proof do you bring of this?"

"None. A German hunter named Bach set his house on fire. I barely escaped."

"Bach! Every time I think he's lost the scent. So Bach killed Grout to draw me out."

"Bach arrived to the house long after I did," I told him. I really didn't want to report this next part, but I felt I had to. I really hated politics. "On my way into Bach's home, I saw Nines Rodriguez leaving. He was scared, but I'm sure it was him."

"Look at me, Miss Flores," he said and I looked into his eyes. "Are you sure it was Nines Rodriguez? Because if it was, the consequences… Do you know where this might lead? Do you really have any idea?"

"Civil war between the Camarilla and the Anarchs? A war that might break the masquerade and reveal our very existence to the kine," I said, again looking at the floor. Why did I feel like I was betraying Nine's trust.

"That is correct," he said, sitting to his desk. "My first action, would be to call a blood hunt for Mister Rodriguez. This would result in heightened tensions, and may even be considered an act of war. I do not want a war with them, so this decision will take some time while I confer with the Primogen.

"In the meantime, I've come to a decision about the Ankaran Sarcophagus, and I believe that for the safety of the inhabitants of this city, we need to place the Sarcophagus under Camarilla protection, until its contents can be confirmed."

"I understand, sir, but as I've already completed three tasks for you, should not my debt be settled?"

Lacroix looked at me for a moment, then nodded. "Quite right, fledgling. I will release you from your boon. How are you doing for funds?"

"Quite well actually. I've managed to secure a few ghouls that have a working income, as well as do a few tasks for Scourge Walsh. To date since my trial, I've managed to acquire almost ten thousand dollars."

"That is...remarkable," he told me, his face giving hint at surprise. "It almost saddens me that you were embraced as a Lasombra, as many Ventrue childer are not as quick thinking as you seem to be. You would have made an excellent Ventrue."

"The few kindred I have talked to are surprised by my resourcefulness. I would like to think that it is all skill, but mostly it's just luck and being at the right time."

"Such is the way with many schemes. Only the quick witted can truly capitalize on the opportunities that present themselves in these dark nights. To such, I am prepared to offer you an investment into your future. Five million dollars."

"All for the price of a boon?" I said, and he nodded. It was tempting, but I wasn't wanting to risk not getting away again. "I think I'll pass."

"I think, you'll take it," he said, and I couldn't help but finding myself agreeing with him. He wrote something on a sheet of paper, then handed it to me. I found it a note to Scourge Walsh to deliver five million to me however I wished to take it. I then looked back at the prince.

"So, when does the sarcophagus become available?"

It's not due for delivery to the museum until Saturday night. I want you to take it then, as right now it's under lock and key in a police building and I don't want to risk revealing ourselves if we don't have to. This will give you a few nights to acquire a proper haven. Also, keep an eye out for a small box. It's from the same dig, and was listed as missing, but may have simply been overlooked. It's crucial we get the sarcophagus secure before anything can happen."

"Yes, sir. I'll bring it back on Saturday night then," I said, then feeling dismissed, turned and left. I walked out the door and took the elevator down, feeling giddy about receiving five million dollars for a few tasks.

As I re-entered the elevator and descended to talk with Walsh about my newly acquired millions, a strange sensation of vertigo hit me. As it settled and I could see clearly again, it was like I was watching myself back in the prince's office and seeing more of what was going on. This time though, I saw I had said "I think I'll pass," before accepting the offer.

'That son of a bitch,' I mentally cursed as it hit me. Damsel's warning about Ventrue and how they could make you do whatever they say came to mind. He said I should take it, and I had. Damn! I was just rooked and not give the courtesy of lubrication.

My good mood soured as I rode the elevator down. I exited to find Walsh was coming down the hall towards me.

"Miss Flores," he called, and I waited for him. "I was just giving my deputies their nightly duties when I got the call. If you will follow me?" he said and I followed him down the hall to his office. He took a seat behind his desk while I sat opposite him and handed him the paper the prince had given me. He whistled as he read it, then placed it in a paper shredder and ran it through.

"How would you like your five million? Cash, check, or money order?"

"If I had a bank account still, I would say check," I told him.

"Never got around to reading the binder that listed our services, have you? We Ventrue are the primary banking institution around the world. Essentially, all money is play money to us. So," he started to say, before turning to a filing cabinet and pulling out a sheathe of paperwork. "Let's get you started."

We began going through the paperwork, and he reached into the cabinet again in another drawer for another sheathe of paperwork. "Let's get this started properly. I need to establish an identity for you, first. The name you wish to use?"

"Eliza Leya Flores," I told him, wishing to continue using my birth name.

He paused before writing anything down. "Do you want to try a different spelling of the name? To make it more difficult to be confused with your previous life?"

"The masquerade," I mumbled. "Make it Elisa Leia Flores, with an 'S' in the first name instead of a 'Z.' As for my middle name, spell it L-E-I-A, like the princess from Star Wars." Walsh began writing it down, smiling a bit as he found something funny.

"Do you know your initials are elf?" he asked, not hardly keeping the humor to himself as he filled out paperwork.

"My mother was a Tolkien fan," I said, remembering the times I dressed the part of Arwen in as angelic a costume as mom could make. "She used to dress me up as Arwen at Halloween, taught me to walk with grace and not just barge in everywhere."

Walsh made a small hum of acknowledgment as he filled out boxes. "I'm leaving you as a Latino, though you could probably pass for Italian with your faded tone. Is there a specific birthday you would like to use?"

"My original birthday was June 2, 1984. Why not make it June 12, 1984, so nothing changes but one number."

"Smart, then if you forget when writing it down, the one is easily added," he said as he continued to write. "Any special regards on your license I need to put down? Glasses? Motorcycle endorsement maybe?"

"Both, I guess. I need to start wearing sunglasses for when I'm in public. My eyes..."

"I wasn't going to comment, but what happened?"

"I was held up in traffic this morning. I got burned by the sun while attempting to secure myself in my haven. Ever since, my eyes haven't existed, even though my face itself was burned."

"I saw a Lasombra once. He was about my age. This was in New York City back during the Depression when many Ventrue saw their businesses suffer as Wall Street fell apart around us. His eyes also looked like yours," he said, as he pulled a yellow highlighter from his pen holder and began highlighting spots on the pages in front of him. "I must admit, it's disquieting, not seeing a person's eyes. From what I gather, it happens to all of your clan in time."

"Hooray for me," I nearly groaned as Walsh continued writing.

"The easiest way of securing your property and bank account is through a corporation, as it doesn't require the owner to really be registered anywhere. This makes it easier for our ghouls to be a front for our interests, while we hide our assets in plain sight. Many CEO's and corporate leaders today don't truly own their property, they are owned by the corporation behind the man. It makes it somewhat easier to pass a property through the years. That said, are you interested in starting your own corporation?"

I thought it over. "I would have to pay taxes on a corporation right? This isn't a free ride as if I were playing dead?"

"Double taxes, actually. All money is taxed as it comes in and as it goes out. You would also be required to pay taxes on all property owned, ghouls who would be paid would be required to be put on payroll, and that's costly."

"But as a corporate entity, I'd be entitled to live again? To buy and sell property openly, have checking accounts, all while not actually existing."

"Correct. If you choose to drive yourself, you will still need a driver's license, which I have those forms ready for you to sign," he said, as he readied another form. "So, do you have a business name you would like to use?"

I had to think on that one. What was a good name for a kindred corporation? I thought several names over, then decided I could honor my mother at least, and name the corporation after her favorite species. "Elven Incorporated."

Walsh lifted an eyebrow at that, a smile quirking his lips as he continued to write among the now myriad pages on his desk. Then he he began turning pages around and offered me a pen to sign with. "Just sign where it's highlighted, and please make sure to use the now correct spelling of your name."

I signed where he showed me, handing him his pen when I was done. He started to arrange all the paperwork, then filed it in a folder. "That just leaves your picture, which we can take just down the hall," he said as he stood up with the folder under his arm.

"There's a slight problem with that," I said, standing beside him. "My clan has no reflection. That also means that modern cameras don't pick me up at all. Even objects I'm holding or wearing don't show up."

Walsh stopped at that. "That means you cannot take your own driver's license photo."

I shrugged, "Added expense? Try holding a casting call for Latino women who match my physical description. It shouldn't take too long to find a possible look alike," I said, thinking about some of the ideas I had on how I might do a photo.

"Until then, Miss Flores, try not to get caught riding that new motorcycle of yours," he said smiling. "I will have a ghoul bring over your new checkbook, birth certificate and social security card, and as soon as we have a viable replacement for your photo, we will have it shipped over as well."

"Thank you, Scourge Walsh," I said, glad to have at least that much taken care of tonight. "I'll be sure to have my ghoul talk to your ghoul about those properties. I really am looking forward to getting things started in earnest now that I have the funds to start my own endeavors."

Walsh looked uncertain, and I was just turning to walk away when he finally said. "Would you care to take a bet?"

That had my interest. "On?" I prodded as I turned back to face him.

Walsh grimaced as he chose his next words. "Many successful businesses are started and ran entirely by mortals. However, there are some that we," he looked down as if choosing his next words as if his life depended on them, "make games of. See, almost every kindred needs money in one form or another to survive. Sometimes, they start their own company. Some, like us Ventrue continue operating their business or reap the rewards of a title for as long as we can in this new life. Many others use their funds to become silent partners in a kine's business."

"This is building up to something, I know it," I said, smiling at the thought that maybe I could upstage the Ventrue again. Something about that made my inner beast dance with excitement.

"There is a business, a local one, that we have made a game of to try and control in one form or another. The owner is, tenacious, and has sought help of an illegitimate sort to keep we kindred out of her till."

"So, what are the rules and the stakes?" I asked, wanting to know what the deal was that the kindred of this city had failed to ghoul a simple mortal.

"She has to accept her status willingly, so no using any vampiric powers to coerce her into being a ghoul or partner. The kindred who will win must become, by either ghouling her, or by getting her to sign a contract stating that they either own a portion of her business or possess her loan, thereby receiving payments from her."

"Sounds simple," I said, thinking it over. If all you had to do was somehow become the kindred behind the woman, how hard could it be? "So what does it take to get in on it?"

"A million dollars or a boon to be owed to the winner," he said, smiling. "It sounds simple, but I offered her ten million once for her business and she refused to sell. The Toreador's in town who are trying have run off all of the good talent from her club and she gets by now on second-rate garage bands and third-rate techno remixes. Still, somehow, even after two years of having this bet, and many Ventrue having offered to buy out her loan or repay it, she persists. Even the man who owns her loan, Boris Checkov, refuses to let anyone take the loan from him. So there is nothing simple about this wager."

"Mind if I ask what the pot is up to?"

"Currently, I'd say over twenty million with about twelve boons attached to it. One buy in gets you all the access you want, and as many tries to succeed. Once the debt is settled, the Toreador's will allow the talent to play their again, so it's not as if you are buying into a failed venture."

I thought the debt over, and decided that the prince was right about one thing. You had to capitalize on the opportunities as they presented themselves, and this was definitely an opportunity. Well, time to open the door. "I'm in. One million dollars. I guess I can thank the prince for at least getting me this far," I said, smiling back at Walsh as he led me back to the elevator.

"The club in question is called Confession. The lady in question goes by the name Venus Dare. No one knows her real name, but that's the stage name she uses and is known by. If you are successful, or have questions, you can call me. You still have your phone yes?"

"Mainly use it for calling the cab company," I said, waiting on the elevator. "But if I have a question, I'll contact you. Or if there's a masquerade violation to report, such as the rampaging Brujah I heard about. Trial's tomorrow at nine right?"

"Nocturne theater, where you had your trial. Jose will not likely be so lucky," he said as the elevator arrived and the doors opened.

"Such is the masquerade, right?"

"Correct, There's nothing we can do about your motorcycle at present, but there are shops where you might be able to buy a replacement VIN number that can be safely registered. At the Last Round, where the Anarchs like to keep their company, you can find a man named Skelter. He's got a few friends in the illegal car trade and might know someone who can get you a proper VIN."

"Thank you, Walsh. I'm headed by that way later to talk to Damsel. She's on the trail of some more plaguebearers. Apparently, they have some sort of cult going and we're tracking them down."

"Keep me apprised of any you find. Names and clan affiliations would be helpful, or at least any supernatural powers they possess. And," he said, pausing as he looked at me. "Be careful. Jean is not one I would normally use for a deputy, but she came with thirty plus years of bounty hunting experience. She is also quite resilient to harm. You don't have those same luxuries."

"I'll be careful. The last thing I want to do is win that bet and then wind up as a pile of ash," I said, letting the doors close between us. Walsh smiled as the doors closed and I descended to the ground floor. I didn't stop to talk to Chunk as I left, heading straight out the doors to my ride. I sat on the seat, then went through the startup list and fired the engine into life.

I headed down the street, going straight to the Last Round. I spun the bike around, and parked it in front of the bar and shut down my ride. Leaving it parked at the curb, I walked inside. Damsel wasn't at her usual spot at the bottom of the stairs, which surprised me. I went upstairs anyway, finding a large kindred with a mean look to his eyes guarding the stairs from the top. He was dressed in military style, with canvas pants and military style boots.

"Well! If it ain't the talk of the town, poster child for Camarilla benevolence. What does the prince have his Lasombra bitch doing today?"

"I'm here to see Nines. I got a problem and he better have answers," I said, stopping and crossing my arms. He better have good answers anyway.

"Well then go on up to him. Nobody stopping ya," he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm common with hood rats. I hated guys like him when I was alive, always making a girl feel scared and dirty, and I was so not taking his bull tonight. I walked past him, my heels smartly tapping out my lack of patience and even Nines looked edgy.

"Yo, kid. What's up," he said, his voice deep and calm despite the twitchy right hand.

"I need an answer, Nines. Were you, or were you not at Grout's mansion tonight?" I asked him pointedly.

"I wasn't. I was actually out tending to business, had a new pack of Sabbat hit Anaheim. They won't hit anything but an urn now."

"Then, until your crew calls you, get out of LA. Tonight. Someone is setting you up and making me the patsy."

"Kid, you better start explaining yourself on that," military guy said behind me, moving to block the exit.

I turned so I had both military guy and Nines in sight, with my back to a wall and Jack right in front of me. Jack appeared to be fondling something under the table, and I don't think it was a bouquet of flowers. "I saw someone who could be Nines' twin leave Grout's and just reported that back to the prince. Grout is now dead, and the prince is going to blame Nines."

I was glad I turned to keep military guy in sight as he rushed me shouting, "You measly fuck!" I caught his wild swing with a Miyagi block of my left arm, then used my knee in an attempt to break his family jewels before tossing him down the stairs. Jack rose to his feet, leveling a shotgun my way, and I moved before anyone could think, including myself. I now stood BEHIND Jack, who said, "What the hell!" before I jumped back to brace against the wall and mule kick him across the bar.

I looked at Nines, who had pulled his big gun and had it trained on me. "Calm down, kid. If I thought you were here to kill me, I doubt you'd waste time with words."

"They started it," I said, crossing my arms and leaning into the dark corner. Nines harrumphed at that, holstering his pistol and leaned up against the wall.

"And here I thought I was going to have to keep saving your ass. That's a neat trick, though. How fast is that? A hundred? Two?"

"Um," I said, recalling how I just appeared behind Jack, my vision only blacking out for a second as I thought I had moved, then my mind went back to Star Trek. "Instantaneous transport? I think I jumped here," I said, then a brief flash of memory made me realize, I went through the shadows to do it. "I jumped here through the shadows?"

"That's a neat trick," Nines said, as Jack got to his feet and military guy climbed back up to join us. "You two boys need to apologize to the lady. You were out of line just attacking her like that, especially in Elysium. She has every right to call the sheriff and haul you two boys off to Trial."

Jack stared daggers at me, while military guy hung his head. "I did it again, didn't I Nines?"

"Yeah, Skelter. You did. I warned you about that. We can't keep up a war with the Camarilla if they keep chipping away at our people. She came here to warn me, and you jumped her. Nice moves, kid. Where were they when the Sabbat had you cornered?"

"Just a cheap karate trick from a movie. Skelter right? Know where I can get a VIN number changed on a Harley Davidson?"

"I know a few places," he said, relief at being let off the hook making him relax. "Give me a night or two to line something out. We good?"

"Yeah, we're good. I'm actually getting fond of it."

"Well, Jack," Nines said, still leaned against the wall.

"Scraped better kindred off my boots," he muttered, before reaching down to pick up his shotgun and going down the stairs and out of sight. It wasn't long before we heard the bar door slam hard.

"If anyone sees him again, tell him it's cool. I know he's trying to protect a friend, and I can respect that."

"Glad to see we're all on the same page. Now, someone mind telling me what the hell happened and why Jack is muttering like a possessed man?" Damsel barked from the stairwell. At least I think it was Damsel. The hair was red like hers, and the voice matched, but that body? Damsel wasn't a hottie and, Oh! I needed my head examined.

"Damsel, you doll up good," Nine said. "Kid here was just telling me Lacroix has it in for my hide. Apparently, he got some Nos to do themselves up as me and kill Grout."

"And she was there just out of the goodness of Lacroix's heart? He knows we won't buy it." Damsel said, arms crossed across her chest. Yeah, that was Damsel and she really looked different in a dress.

"The primogen sent me there because Grout failed to make it to the meeting last night. Lacroix sent me as a quick stop gap measure to keep the meeting going. He even asked them if sending me was acceptable. IF he is the man Grout was talking about, then we got problems."

"What do you mean, 'the man Grout was talking about?' Am I missing something here." Damsel asked.

I pulled the old reel to reel tapes I had taken from the mansion out of my bag and held them up. "Grout recorded messages and had them strung throughout his mansion. Each one painted a scene of his life and led me to the end. Near the end, after Grout had mentioned being made Primogen, his inner voice started to flare up, and told him a lot. Someone he knew, a very powerful someone, came for him to kill him. That someone can only either be Lacroix or Strauss."

"My money's on Lacroix," Nines said. "That son of a bitch thinks he can take LA from the Anarchs by framing me for murder. It don't make any sense for it to be Strauss. The mage has nothing to gain."

"Like you can trust any of them," Damsel shot back.

"Strauss at least plays fair. You might not always know what his overall plan is, but even if it goes against him, he treats you fair. Lacroix, though? The only place he belongs is in a barbecue pit."

"No arguments here. So, what do we do?" I said, bringing the brainstorming session back to reality.

"I can hide out, use the slums to feed from. It's best if you don't know exactly where kid. No offense, but you are currently in tight with the Camarilla. Your allegiance is your own choice, but I can't risk my life on a chance," Nines said, looking me in the eye as he said it. I felt respect for the man, and had to agree with his choice.

"Then we'll leave it at that. What should I do with these tapes?"

"Take them to Strauss. Call it evidence of a powerful presence doing harm in the city and you don't know whom to trust in the Camarilla. Strauss tried to get you on their precious council, so he has to think something of you. You can play that back and see if he'll bite. He does, its one more ace up our sleeve to pit against Lacroix when the times right."

"I guess that war Lacroix warned me about is about to happen," I said, sadness entering my voice. I didn't want to have to choose sides yet, I just didn't know whom was right.

"Yeah, it's about to start. Maybe a month away, maybe less. Don't know how it's going to go right now. We lost so many in the past few years, and more have swapped sides or are riding the fence and don't want to get involved. The Camarilla doesn't really have us outnumbered, just outgunned with that brute of a sheriff."

"If it comes to it, we can get the sheriff," Skelter said, eying me from across the room. "I'd love to introduce him to the wonders of the modern military."

"Modern, hell, introduce his ass to a flamethrower," Damsel said, proving she was still tart and tiny as always.

"I'm just going to go, let you guys plan your war," I said, as I started weaving my way through the tables back to the stairs.

"Thanks for the heads up, kid. Likely we wouldn't have know about it until every deputy showed up on our doorstep demanding my blood," Nines told me. "That could have gotten hairy."

"They wouldn't take any prisoners, would they?" I asked him.

"Not me," he said, his voice had a hint of sadness in it. "It's just that I'm probably the last person who can keep the Anarchs from falling apart completely. Even Isaac isn't as vocal about the cause as he used to be."

"Figure it out, Nines," I said, as I stepped down the first step, "Otherwise, kiss the cause goodbye." I continued down the stairs and back out the door. I was just about to hit the ignition when Damsel came running out, her skirt picked up in her hand to keep the hem from getting dirty.

"Hey," she said, and I sat back to give her a moment to get down the stairs. "I got word about a new plaguebearer. Some guy named Tin Can Bill said he was kidnapped by a monster and taken underground. From what he described, I'd say it was a Nos. He's down by the Griffith overpass."

"Thanks, Damsel," I said, "I'll go check it out."

"Love the ride," she said, trying to not to smile. "Harley Fatboy? These things were all the rage ten years ago. Still a good ride. You're going to have to take me out sometime."

"Know any good spots," I asked, not sure about LA area. I was raised a bit further up the coast, and not sure of the local area.

"I know a few spots that are excellent for riding. Even know a few good overlooks if you want to stop and look at the stars," she said, cocking a hip and smiling at me.

I smiled, thoughts of me and Damsel parked out on some lonely hilltop with nothing between us but the night running wild through my mind. I had to admit, I was attracted, I just didn't know how to show it. Guys at least were easy. Show any interest at all and the follow you like a puppy dog. But another woman? "I need to track this guy down fast, Damsel. Unfortunately, this disease doesn't take long to kill, and it seems I'm already a day late."

"Yeah," she said, seeming to deflate. "Best get a move on."

I hit the starter, slipping the bike into gear and easing off. I really needed dating advice.