Disclaimer: The characters in the following story, with the exception of "Loral Williams" and a few other auxiliary characters

Disclaimer: The characters in the following story, with the exception of "Loral Williams" and a few other auxiliary characters, are owned by Spelling Television Inc. [A subsidiary of Spelling Entertainment Group Inc.]. Vampire: The Masquerade is owned by Mark Rein*Hagan/White Wolf Publishing. My use is in no way a challenge to their copyrights.

Note to the Reader: The vampire legend is not the creation of any one person, and no one set of rules or myths interprets what a vampire is. Every storyteller redefines what is logical and permissible in his or her story's universe. If I stray from the World of Darkness interpretation, it is only because I am endeavoring to write a fuller and richer tale.

A Double Edge Part II Chapter 6

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The ballot keepers voice trailed off as she and all of the Venture watched their prince stand, and stare at her with marked intensity.

"Do you wish a recount my prince…"

To call a recount of a Venture vote was unheard of. It would insinuate corruption in the noblest tribe of kindred. The ballot keeper along with the candidates' proxies had been picture-perfect Venture ever since they had been embraced. He could not question their credibility, and yet he had been so sure.

"That will not be necessary. Congratulations Victoria." He nodded stiffly to a small woman who looked to be of South East Asian decent, who averted her eyes accordingly.

A stifled sigh of relief escaped the assembled, and Julian returned to his seat.

The Ballot keeper slammed down a gavel, and announced the meeting adjourned. The Venture quickly filed out of the room keeping a wide breadth around the Prince. Finally only Julian and Sonny were left. Julian looked at the pin straight back of his Childe. Fear, disappointment and anger seemed to radiate off of him.

"Sonny."

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Night had already consumed half of the twilight, when Loral finally awoke. She pulled her self out of the sleeping bag that served as the bed in her new one room temporary residency motel. (The night before she had decided not to take her chances with the bed that smelled of some unnamable sin.) It was close to the heart of town, had a great view of the parking lot, and was priced ridiculously low. Apparently the last occupant who no one could seem to remember had left in a hurry, but all the paper work was taken care of, so she had signed the lease and moved in. Well, moved in was a relative term, besides the P. A. system and her bed role, the only personal belongings she had left were a couple of clothes, and her foot locker. They were all she needed though.

She stumbled sleepily into the bathroom, and ran some water into the sink. The spotted and cracked mirror in front of her didn't do her unremarkable features any favors, but she didn't care. It felt like the four walls were strangling her. She would have much rather been on the road heading to parts unknown, but the truth was she needed a place to stay a while until she could ……

"Until I what?" she asked herself out loud. It was a question that had been nagging at the back of her brain for the last week. "Until I make sure Sasha is okay. I promised." She answered resolutely herself.

The reflection in the mirror sneered back at her, and seemed to ask exactly how she was going to do that with out landing face down in the bay. The thought brought a chill to her mind, and demand of her dread. Sasha was in some bad juju. A week of officially being avoided and unofficially being her shadow had made that perfectly evident to Loral. The reflection relaxed its sneer and took on an air of sad resignation. Loral looked carefully at herself, summoning up all her strength, but the stare of her own dull green eyes was starting to frighten her. They seemed to be crying out  'Just leave girl! Just walk away. Before its too late.'

With white knuckles gripping the sinks edge she thrust her head into the slowly filling basin.

Finally the need for oxygen pulled her out of the water, but the face that greeted her in the mirror was not the one she had awoken to. Wild eyes that didn't comprehend the reality that surrounded them stared out of a panic torn little girl's face. Blood and soot covered her cheeks and fell heavy in her hair, and behind her in a sea of night a huge bonfire lit up the sky. Fear grief and anger radiated through the mirror, and the girl began to speak.

"The truth Loral. Why did they do this? Why did this happen? The truth is so close. Find it."

 "NO! I left you behind. Why can't you just die with them! That's what you wanted." Loral could feel the heat, hear the fire. The chill in her mind blazed and boiled.

"I wanted to die, but I lived, you lived Loral! Now find out why."

"You don't exist anymore. I put you away. Leave!" Loral screamed the last word. At the sound the crack gave way and the mirror fell into the sink, shattering below the shallow water. 

She was not going to let this happen to her, nothing nobody was going to screw with her life anymore. Loral stormed back into the main room, threw open the footlocker and grabbed her knife. She ripped it out of the sheath. It was a foot long bowie made of Damascus steel. It had a serrated back, a razor edge, and a grip of soft leather, soft as skin, worn from use. The blade filled her with the need to fight. Her heart was racing, her eyes darting looking for anyone anything, that might reach out at her. Shadows swarmed in her mind and the dark room, Form somewhere above her came thudding and behind her was the sound of water running, the pipes belched and groaned. Her breath panted in the warm air. She waited in the darkness.

But nothing came.

"What am I doing…?"

Loral's legs collapsed underneath her. There was no one there but herself. The knife slipped form her hands, and lay idle on the floor. Tears came to eyes.

"I'm going crazy."

Loral shuttered and stood up. The locker across the room was still open. Out of it a silvery disk shined on the top of her various belongings. She grabbed it and shoved it into the P.A.'s head. The music finally came on, flooding the apartment with screaming guitars and reverberating base. Loral sighed, letting the music fill her body, waiting for her heart beat to synchronize. Her muscles relaxed a bit. She let the music carry her about the room, dancing, jumping, thrashing. She found her self in a fighting stance. Her own shadow loaming indifferently on the white wall served as a sparing partner. For an hour she battled with her dark reflection, punching, kicking wrestling. The fight was a dance, and the dance a fight.  She sighed as the CD came to an end.

Music was therapy.

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Leaning against the wall of the corridor Cash considered the stream of Venture that flowed by him. They seemed particularly gossipy today, but none of them, not even the ones he was on good terms with would venture a glance his way. His status first as a Gangrel and second as a Primogen had denied him entrance to the Ventures clan meetings, but usually the Harpies would fill him in on all the juicy details, before spreading the news to the other clans.

At the very tail end of the procession came the prince. His face was ashen, and Cash knew something went horribly wrong at the meeting.

"Cash, I will be holding court tonight, in tomorrow night's stead. Tomorrow we will be going to Biltmore offices, to pay the new Primogen a visit."

"Understood." And he meant it in so many ways.

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From her vantage point on top of the Haven's roof, Sasha watched as Cash and her Uncle got out of the limo. They seemed so small and far away, so unreachable. She sighed. The cold bay wind blew through her body and out across the city. She wanted to join it, and fly away form the nightmare of her life.

The night she had been embraced Cash had brought her to the city's edge. The bay wind had been to their backs as they had ridden the high roads and over passes. By Kindred law she should have been killed before sunrise. A mortal embraced against the prince's will was a threat to the masquerade, but Cash had saved her at least until Eddie took her under his protection.

Her hair caught a gust and flung itself over the edge of the building. Red curls bellowed like a wild fire. Far below her lay the dark street, which stood as the new boundary between Gangrel and Brujah hunting grounds.  

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If Sasha hadn't been on the rooftop, she wouldn't have seen the fight, and her life might have been all together different, but she was. She watched the group of five people on the Gangrel side shadow two on the Brujah side. She watched as the five darted across the street and pounced on the two, She watched as the two were pulled off the street into the darkness of a Brujah ally. She watched, and something deep with in her understood what was happening.

Without thinking she abandoned her rooftop, jumping down the fire escape two floors at a time. She hit the ground and her body moved with impossible speed.  First one block then the next smeared by. The street wasn't used much that's why it had been chosen as the boundary, but she kept to the cold shadowed cement. Building after building passed as blood rushed in her useless veins. She gave the wind a run for its money.