Chapter 25 – Trials and Tribulations

October 1, 2004 = Friday

I was able to make good time with light traffic, my Harley purring right along. For me, it was a time to think, with not much else to do as I hummed along with my subconscious doing most of the ticking down to my exit. I noticed the gas gauge reading into the red as I slowed to take the exit, and idled it to a pump at an all night gas station.

I popped the cap off, fueling it up at a buck and a quarter per gallon and ended up putting in five dollars worth which filled it up. I went inside to pay the cashier, noticing a rack of CD's. One caught my eye, titled "Pieces of You" and I picked it up. Tracks one and ten made me smile, remembering them from when I was first in college. Track ten actually made me feel at home in my dorm room, the first time I had ever tried living away from home. Listening to it had brought me some peace with its simple guitar melody, and I couldn't see starting my life over without it.

Placing the CD on the counter, the guy rang it all up and I paid for it, taking the CD back out and putting it into the saddlebag next to the tape of my time at Four-Play, then got on and started my bike back up, heading for the theater. Rounding the corner, I was shocked at the sheer number of cars and vehicles lined up. Every kindred in the city was here and it looked that number was several hundred strong. At least there was a place near the entrance for motorcycles where I pulled in and parked. I looked them over as I dismounted, seeing some as old as the concept itself to modern ones like the one I had. No two were alike, and one even had handlebars that were taller than I stood, and I wondered how the guy drove it. Some seemed to be works of art, both in construction and the fanciful artwork displayed on the gas tank. All seemed to be in good condition, with the worst defect noticeable being worn out seats from supposed years, if not decades, of riding.

It felt kind of strange to be entering the place where I came so close to meeting my end. Entering the theater, several men in uniforms stood screening all entrants for weapons. That was a laugh, considering what the Tremere could do to your blood as I remembered poor Kenny. The Tremere kindred hadn't stood a chance when one of his own clan turned on him, causing him to blow up and coat the wall in blood.

I cued up, putting my money, lighter and cigs in the basket and stepping through the metal detector which stayed a nice green and put the items back in my pocket. The next guy had some kind of a portable metal detector in his hand and waved me on by and I went through the doors into the theater. I was correct about their being a lot of people. Those in biker and rough type clothes seemed as dominant as professional suits and expensive dresses, with differing groups off in packs to themselves.

One lone man dressed in a t shirt and jeans was standing near the door, smiling as he extended a hand and said in a faint New York accent. "Hey! Looking good! Have you noticed it yet?"

The question alone took me by surprise, let alone the man's exuberance. Smiling, I responded, "Noticed what?"

He started laughing softly, "Your memory? Or were you always good at remembering things? I tell ya, it's downright killing me!" he exclaimed, rather animated.

I smiled, thinking I was better at remembering things when he went on, "Read a book lately? What's the second paragraph on the fifth page? Think about it," he said his smile growing wider. "We all have perfect memory. Every thing you read, every number you write, you can remember," he said, and I thought about the road signs on the way here, remembering the first, then the next and the progression all the way here. "If you have trouble finding your way around the city, take some time to read a map of the city. You're brain will remember every street, side street, and once you start riding around, every alleyway, manhole cover, and business will be etched into your brain. We could be cab drivers in London once we learn the fastest routes!"

"Never been to out of California, honestly," I told him, thinking him quite odd. "I've also not the time lately to read."

"I read all the time," he said, leading me deeper into the crowd. "I'm cursed to be a speed reader with a love of books who can remember every last word he's ever read! Two years, that's how long it took me to read every book the library had. That's one thousand six hundred and seventy four books. Decided to make it an even one thousand seven hundred and read their encyclopedias. I run a book store now, in Pasadena. I still read every night, and the bloody Network bugs me constantly for information. If I wasn't insane before, I bloody am now! I SAID the Nile is four thousand two hundred fifty eight miles long! Yes! I know it's almost a mile of miles! Geez, people read!"

Malkavian, I thought, once he mentioned the insanity. At least he was somewhat sane, like Therese, though I was going to have to remember the eidetic memory. Really useful. It was then that I spotted Damsel among a knot of bikers, the Toreador was dressed in leather pants with a white tank top and knee high boots with three inch heels. I smiled at seeing her, though she didn't notice me. I drifted over to her as the bookstore owner started talking to another man dressed in what I would almost describe as an ermine robe and matching stove top hat.

"Hey Damsel," I said, getting close enough to see her. She turned and smiled at me, but it was the man beside her that spoke first.

"Hey newb," he said, grinning at me as he extended his hand. "I'm Burris. Nice to see some new blood in the area. You ride?"

"Sure do," I said, shaking hands with the rough looking kindred. "Picked up my Harley from a hunter who didn't know about the fuel cut-off."

"Sweet," he drawled, giving me a one-armed bear hug and pointing me towards the others. "Not bad for a Lasombra!" he roared to his buddies who all cheered. All they need were a bunch of long neck beers to complete the image of celebrating bikers.

"Hey," she said, hands in her pockets as she drifted closer. "They came for Nines at sunrise. Nearly tore the Round apart, but he was long gone. If it weren't for you, he'd be onstage tonight."

"Take care of him, Damsel," I told her and gave her a hug.

"Yeah, Damsel filled us in," one of the others bikers said. "You warned him that Lacroix was about to frame him for killing a primogen. You did good kid, we got him out and he's as safe as anyone can be in this town. Even the Nossies can't find him which is definite trick. She also told us that you were to be left alone, you're just the innocent patsy to try and make us swap leaders again."

"Is there anyone else who could?" I asked them, hoping Nines wasn't their only voice.

"No," Damsel said, as she eyed some of the suits across the room. "Nines is probably the last man we all respect, and that's because he's been in the shit trenches since before most of us even got turned. One of the last Old Guard still fighting."

"What happened to the rest? I believe he said something about they switched sides..." I said but Burris cut me off. Seemed to be his thing.

"Thank that bitch Michele for that one," Burris spat. "Got several good men killed when she betrayed us to the Cammies."

"She had reasons," Damsel said, eyeing the bigger men around her. They all bowed up, getting ready for a fight, but she stared them down, making each one back off.

"Political reasons?" I asked and Damsel nodded, letting her shoulders relax. The rest of the group went to talking among themselves, leaving me and Damsel out of it. I had the feeling they were all Brujah, and me and Damsel just didn't quite mesh with them, but the little Toreador seemed to have the grit to make them back off. Typical bullies.

"Ever hear of a Miss Velour?" I asked her, desperate to have something to talk about, and needing to ask about her anyway.

"VV? Yeah, I know her. She's a Toreador and runs Vesuvius in Hollywood. She's an Anarch, but runs with Isaac. Not really the same as the rest of us. Hate to say it, but there's almost two breeds of us. You got Isaac's bunch, which is more like Camarilla lite, then there's us. We're free spirits and don't trust people to govern us," she said, then looked at me. "How did you hear about VV anyway? She like never leaves her club, and never drink from her girls. She will ban you for that."

"I got a new ghoul, runs Four-Play in Santa Monica where I have another ghoul working," I told her and she shot me a serious look.

"Really? Didn't think you'd tolerate one of those places. You know how they operate?" she said with a grimace on her face.

"Um," I said, thinking about it. "Not really, no. I know the girls make money by enticing guys into giving them money, but I don't guess I know where the club gets theirs. He says he makes a lot of money at it, but I didn't see to ask him how they do it."

"They charge for the stage. Place like that probably charges several grand each night or half the girls tips," she said, crossing her arms as she looked at me.

"So?"

"A girl can typically make only a grand or two a night, unless they have rather lax policies on touching and intimacy. They charge more for that, which is good for the girl if she's interested. I heard some places might force girls into it, but that depends on the place. Honestly, I wouldn't touch a strip club with a ten foot pole."

"That bad?" I asked, puzzled by her response.

"You want to know what they do to girls who don't have the money? They don't take an IOU."

"The leather couch with all the scratches..." I said, remembering seeing it in Duke's office. I figured he was using the couch for 'auditions' and punishment, Angel's own testimony letting me know that for a fact. But I didn't think it was the bad. Apparently I was wrong.

"Whether they like it or not," she said, staring me down with that same hard stare. "So, what did you do? Tell him to take an IOU or get rid of the girls who can't make that kind of money? Maybe send them to your home to be a snack?" she snarked at me, easing off as she saw the fear come across my face.

"I..." I said, trying to think. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I was condoning this? Where was my empathy, my compassion? My sister went through that twice, dying the second time. Hell, even I went through it. And I was condoning it? What kind of monster was I becoming?

Damsel gave me a hug, holding me in her arms as I thought about what I was doing. "It's the beast, sweetie. You have to fight for your humanity. Weighing every decision against what it will cost your soul. You have to have compassion, love, and start helping people or the next piece you lose might be the part that keeps you from killing people."

I felt something on my cheek as I returned the hug. I brought a hand up to find a tear of blood running down my cheek. I resolved to stop back by the club and tell Duke that he wasn't to molest any more girls, and use my status as his domitor to force him not too. Damsel gave me a little smile, and I thought about the little scene between me and Angel and how good it felt. One good thing about our improved memories was I remembered Damsel asking me for a ride. And it wasn't like I had anything else to do tonight, though I did want to go talk to Venus.

"How about a ride after the Trial?" I asked, trying to redirect our conversation into something more tolerable.

"Sure," she said, leading me over to sit with the bikers as Jean and several deputies drug a young man to the center of the stage. It seemed the Trial was about to start. I sat beside her, surrounded by bikers, though I didn't see Jack anywhere near us. The Prince walked out, his seven foot tall Sheriff right behind him with that huge sword in it's scabbard on his back. When everyone was in place, Jean leaned over and pulled the stake from his chest, and the kindred came alive.

"Quiet, please," the Prince said, holding his hands up to quiet everyone. The weight of the moment seemed to fall on everyone and the voices fell away. When it was quiet, his hands fell to his sides. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We are here tonight to deal with a break in the Traditions. Specifically, a break of our first and highest tradition, the masquerade, by Jose Garcia, a member of clan Brujah. He revealed our presence and nature to several kine."

"I lost control!" Jose said from where he was kneeling. "Nearly got burned by a carburetor backfire and I couldn't control myself." I winced at that, remembering the one time my granpappie had to pull his shirt off to stuff in the carb because it was burning. It ruined the shirt, forcing him to go without in the sun, which I thought odd. Course, I was only six at the time.

"Mister Garcia," Lacroix said, turning to face him. "You are responsible for your actions. Do you deny this?"

"No, but you're going to kill me for something that wasn't my fault!"

"Do you deny killing several kine and drinking from one in the full presence of a kine whom you did not kill? Thereby revealing our presence while she called 911 for help?" the prince asked, his voice raising as he addressed the doomed kindred.

"I didn't know about her!" he yelled back. "When I came to I was just dropping the dead girl to the pavement. I didn't even see the kine leave! I thought I had killed everyone and that was the end of it until your deputies ripped through my door and burned my shop down!"

It was making me uncomfortable, listening to him defend himself from something the beast had done. I could feel mine shift under my skin, probably reacting to the tension in the air and I stifled it as best I could. If Nines were here, he'd probably make a case out of it. Cry and yell about how we all lost control. Even I had, but that was due to a ghost freaking me out, but it did leave me with questions.

"Excuse me," I said, standing to make it known who was addressing the gathering. "It might be because I'm so new and without a teacher, but who hasn't lost control of their beast?"

The question alone set the theater to talking a low hum, as everyone seemed to address the issue with their neighbors. Even the bikers around me talked about losing control and ripping their beloved rides to shreds because of their loss of control.

"Miss Flores," the prince said, addressing me. "You are indeed correct that most of us have lost control, but usually we correct our mistakes. Mister Garcia did not."

"Sounds like he didn't know their was a mistake to be corrected. Did anyone call him? Let him know their was a kine he missed? Or did you just assume he meant to reveal our nature to the young girl?"

"And what would you have me do? Condone his actions? Allow countless breaches of the masquerade because he didn't know?" the prince said, and I could feel his anger like a wave over me. Presence, I thought, realizing his clan must have it too. Well, if we could use our powers like that, maybe he needed a taste of his own medicine. I sent as much of my anger and disappointment back out as I could, and the whole room gasped, with the Sheriff and deputies backing away. It was only the prince who stood still, but even his features softened as his wave was swallowed under mine.

'Thanks for the help, Lasombra,' I thought as the prince started to motion for the crowd to calm down. "First, no, I don't condone his actions. But, he has paid a price," I said, keeping people looking at me as I seemed to take control of the situation. 'Don't let me mess this up.' I thought, then addressed Jose. "You say you lost your place? That the deputies burned it down?"

"Yeah," he said, addressing me and looking at me as if I were his last salvation. Sad thing was it was probably true. "Some idiot knocked over a can of gas where I was working on a car. It's what I do, I was a mechanic. I had already run out the front, thinking the Sabbat was raiding me and when I looked back, just before they staked me, I saw the flames rise in the back. I hope Jacqueline got out."

"Mijo!" a woman yelled from the corner of the stage. I could see a young woman tied up, being held by a man in a suit.

"Don't hurt her!" he said, struggling against the men holding her.

"Well, he hasn't lost his compassion," I said, as the prince raised his hands again.

"People, listen!" he yelled, and the crowd quieted down again. "Miss Flores, what would you do in this situation?"

"First, establish that the person did it either by accident or design. In this case, it seems to be by accident. Second, call him on it in a manner that is consistent with the manners of law enforcement. That means you stop by his place and ask him nicely. Your deputies seem to have failed on that one; breaking the door down and making him think he was under a Sabbat raid. I'd say there's a little bit of fault on both sides.

"As for punishment? Well, you did take his business away from him. Since this was an accident, I say he's been given his punishment if this is his only offense. Given that death seems to be the only punishment you like to dole out, I'd say so."

"These are serious times, Miss Flores," the Prince said, his voice low and even, and if it weren't for the great acoustics of the theater, probably wouldn't have heard him at all. "They call for serious punishments."

"Losing everything you have isn't serious enough?" Damsel said, standing by me. "It's all we have some nights. It took me years to get the Last Round." More people began to rise, and finally the prince raised his arms to quiet the theater down again.

"Alright, settle down everyone. Miss Flores raises a somewhat valid point," and the Anarchs around me cheered. "This situation may not have been handled in the best interests of all concerned. But a breach of the masquerade has occurred, serious enough that it endangered our secrecy and had to be handled by a deputy. Thereby your sentence is exile," the prince said, turning to face the condemned man, "for a hundred years. Should you return before that hundred years is over, I will call a blood hunt on you, and this time Mister Garcia, I will have your head. Your exile starts at midnight, which is in a few hours. I suggest you hurry."

"Thank you," he said, as he was released. Jacqueline was also released and together they jumped off the stage, running for the exit. No one stopped him, and soon we were all looking at the prince.

"Well, that concludes tonight's meeting. I hope this serves as a lesson that I do hear what the kindred of this city has to say. My only goal, is to ensure our well being. You are dismissed," he said, turning to leave. Everyone started to rise and leave, and I followed the bikers out as the suits across from us waited for the rougher types to leave.

"Want to ride with the pack?" Burris said as we swarmed around the bikes. Damsel gave me a slight nod of her head as I stepped beside my Harley.

"Sure, we'll probably break off somewhere," I told him as I mounted my Harley and lifted the stand with my boot like a professional rider. Damsel got on behind me, settling her feet into the passenger rests and snuggled up real close behind me.

"Heading off to your own fun, huh?" one of the riders joked. I would have responded, but he kicked his engine to life, the roar drowning out any response I could give. The other riders kicked their bikes to life too, and I started my own, getting ready to back it out as everyone on my right pulled forward in a hard turn and hit the street.

"Just roll with it," Damsel yelled in my ear over the din, and kicking it into first pulled out with the rest of the riders, getting a cheer from the pack. Apparently that was the first step in acceptance, and the pack roared up onto the interstate going at least forty strong. I looked around, seeing the varying riders and their rides and was in awe at the sheer presence these people pulled off with their sight. To look at them, you'd think this was another biker gang with a love for older bikes, but knowing the truth of their age, made you realize each one still reveled in the glory of their biker years.

We headed north, into the hills and left the interstate Santa Clarita, heading out the road to Palmdale. "Take a left up here," Damsel said in my ear. I slowed, then banked over and took the turn a bit faster than I probably should have. I could hear the whooping of the pack as we separated, and I smiled at the thought that maybe somebody out there actually liked me. Damsel continued to point out turns until we were well out of civilization and out in the scrub brush on a dirt road. When we hit the edge of a hill, she told me to park it.

"Beautiful spot," I said, after I killed it and let the sound die away.

"Used to come up here when I first came to town," she said, hopping off and stretching her legs. "Course, back then it took me longer. All I had to ride was a scooter. Damn thing couldn't do twenty."

"Guess that's the benefit of having a proper bike," I said, putting the kickstand down before I got off.

"Yeah, and the guys loved you. Didn't hurt that you got Jose off, though he'll have to head for San Diego or San Francisco and set up shop there. At least he's alive if we need him."

"Small favors," I said, putting an arm around Damsel's shoulders. I wasn't sure how to push it where I wanted to go so I let Damsel steer things for a bit. "Couldn't let Nines hear I let an Anarch burn when he might've been able to stand up to Lacroix."

"I'm starting to think if you might be itching for his job," Damsel said, snuggling closer to me.

"Lacroix?" I gasped, then blew a raspberry at the thought. "Town would burn if I did that. No way I could keep the Camarilla together."

"Fuck Lacroix," Damsel said. "I meant replacing Nines. God, Eliza, do you even know how fucked we are right now? We lose Nines, I might as well catch a tan. He is ALL that is left of the old guard Anarchs. All. We lose him, we lose our Anarch soul, and the Free State is over."

I hugged her close to me. "Some things are worth fighting for, Damsel," I said, and she wrapped her arms around me. "I can't always say I agree with the way things were done, but I know Lacroix's type. He'll kill every person in his way to complete domination, and that means I just put my head on the chopping block along with every other Anarch in town."

"It has benefits," Damsel said, nuzzling my ear. I nuzzled next to her ear, feeling my hunger grow. I couldn't understand it. I wasn't really that hungry, but I could feel the blood in Damsel's veins. I kissed her neck, and I could feel the want, the need to bite so bad it was painful. I licked the spot right over her artery, eliciting a soft moan from her, and felt my fangs slip out.

"Damsel," I whispered, as she lowered a hand and began to fondle my ass while her other wrapped around my neck and held me close. I pulled her hair off her neck, and taking one more lick, sank my teeth into her neck, her blood feeling like electric milk as I drank her in. Damsel moaned, bucking against me once as I gripped her tighter. It felt so right throughout my body, as I took gulp after gulp of her blood.

I had one moment of clarity that what I was doing was wrong and pulled my fangs from her neck. Damsel was silent, leaning against me when I realized I was supporting her weight. In panic, I let go and she dropped to the ground, the angle of her legs and arms telling me she was a lifeless husk.

"Fuck."