Disclaimer: see in the Introduction.
Rating: G, for this part
Author's notes:
In case someone wouldn't know, Garou are the werewolves, who usually aren't in very friendly terms with Kindred (whom they call ''leeches''). The Gangrels are the only ones they'd tolerate – of reasons that will be explained in later chapters.
PART ONEThe library of the Prince
Cash entered the library of the Prince of San Francisco in a suspicious state of mind. Being called unexpectedly never meant any good, and he shivered from the thought that he might be the suffering object of one of Julian Luna's violent mood swings.
The old-fashioned room glowed shadowy – flickers from the fireplace deepened the already dark colours of the rich, burgundy-hued upholstery, the gold-brocaded walls and the soft, springy carpets. The whole room smelled of old books, expensive brandy and the excellent cigars the Prince preferred to smoke. To human eyes, the library would be eerily dark, but to the eyes of a Gangrel (keener than even those of other Kindred), it was well-lit.
Cash could see rows over rows of leather-bound books – most with letters written in gold on their backs – in-between hundreds of precious knick-knacks, mostly expensive china, a great many of them collected by the late Archon Raine, whose spirit still seemed to float among the artfully-carved bookshelves that reached from the floor up to the high ceiling.
Aside of the shelves themselves, the room was sparsely furnitured. A few Louis XIV chairs stood around an exquisitely carved mahogany table that was placed slightly to the left from the middle of the library and had a marvellous stained-glass lamp on its farthest corner. The Prince kept the whole house in the expensive, old-fashioned style his predecessor had preferred.
Julian Luna, current Prince of the City, was not a very tall man, but he radiated strength and natural authority. Having been Embraced in his late twenties, he looked almost too young for his office – until one looked in his eyes that told of shrewd intelligence and of a certain cruelty, both of which were necessary for his position. The fact that one of his eyes was brown and the other black made his appearance slightly unsettling – very useful when dealing with business partners or belligerent Clan Primogens.
He wasn't waiting alone for Cash. Daedalus, the Nosferatu Primogen accompanied him by a glass of excellent wine. He was not as cruelly changed physically as most other members of his Clan, yet no one looking at him could mistake him for a human. He had a large, bald head with chalk-white skin, elongated earlobes and clear, grey eyes. Still, his appearance didn't lack a certain uncanny elegance. As always, he was clad in an old-fashioned black jacket and slacks.
The Prince nodded towards an empty seat and Cash sat, accepting a glass of wine from Daedalus. It looked like a lengthy conversation already.
"What can I do for you, my Prince?," he asked politely, using the formal approach, signalling business talk.
The Prince raised an eyebrow. "Excellent choice of words, Cash. I want you to do something for me, indeed. Something… special. Something only a Gangrel could do."
Now Cash was really surprised. "What do you mean? There aren't a great many things that Gangrel could do and other Kindred couldn't. Except maybe…"
"Except travelling through wild places," Julian added for him. "You are living on the roads, most of you anyway, you can survive in the wilderness and even cross Garou territory. That is, exactly, what I need you for, right now."
Cash frowned. "You want me to make contact with the Garou?"
"No. Nono. It was only a figure of speech. No, I want you to go to Los Angeles."
"L.A.?" Cash whistled. "Bold step, it is. You want me to spy around Cyrus a little, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Julian admitted. "There are… rumours that Cyrus is gathering his forces – making new alliances – rather unusual ones. But no one can learn anything solid about the whole thing. So I need to have my eyes and ears there, for a short while. If I'd send anyone else, Cyrus' people would know immediately that we're spying on them. But with the current… situation, it would be perfectly acceptable for you to go and consult your Clan brethren in L.A., even if your presence is detected."
"If there still are any of us in L.A.," Cash said bitterly. "Cyrus had four years to hunt them all down… and he certainly was very busy."
"Possibly," Daedalus nodded, joining the conversation for the first time. "But L.A. is a huge city, with geographically disconnected parts. I don't think Cyrus would have managed to kill all Gangrels within his Domain. There have to be some gathering places where you can get information about the whereabouts of your people."
"Probably," said Cash reluctantly. "The problem is, I've never been in L.A. for longer than a day or two. Neither did I knew anyone from our Clan who'd have lived there."
"I heard that Lorraina used to have friends there," Daedalus suggested. "Maybe she can offer you some advice."
"Lorraina?" Cash repeated in surprise. "I didn't know she had any Clan connections in L.A."
"She's gone over a few times on behalf of Stevie Ray while you were… on the roads," Daedalus explained. "And since neither of you likes to talk about those times… well, you should ask her."
"I will," Cash turned back to Julian. "How soon do you want me to be on my way, my Prince?"
"As soon as possible," Julian answered. "It's crucial for us to get reliable information – besides, it would take the pressure from you, until things calm down a bit. Making a decision for the rest of your unlife right now wouldn't be wise, no matter how you choose to decide. But as long as you are here, your people won't let you think about it in peace. So… this way we hit two birds with the same stone."
"I see," Cash paused for a moment. "Let me ask you something, Julian – not as the Prince of the City but as…as just you. As the friend you have been for me ever since I set foot in this house."
"Go on. Ask."
"Do you want me… want us to stay at all? If we choose to remain in your service, would you still trust us with your life as you've trusted for the last decades?"
"Yes, I would," Julian answered slowly, thoughtfully. "Whatever motivated Xavier to pull your whole Clan out of the Camarilla, it doesn't change Gangrel courage and Gangrel loyalty. You are still young in Kindred terms, all of you in my City, but you always served me well. And you personally, Cash, you've been so much more than just a faithful servant for me. You've been my shield mate – and my friend. I hope you still are."
"I am, and I always will be," Cash assured him, "even if I'd be forced to leave your house or your City. I'd never betray you, Julian. Never. For no one and nothing."
"I know that," the Prince nodded. "But I also know how strong the bonds among your Clan are. So I won't hold against you if you'd feel the need to choose them instead of me. I'd miss you, though," he added with a wry smile.
Cash nodded in agreement. He knew he'd desperately miss Julian Luna, too, his friendship, the structure the Prince gave his rather unruly life, the purpose of serving something bigger than his own personal goals… but he also knew, this wasn't a decision he could have made alone.
So he was really grateful for the chance to escape the pressure for a short while, to discuss things with his Clan brethren in L.A. (should any of them have survived Cyrus' death brigades)… to feel the wind in his hair once again.
"Thank you, Julian," he said. "I'll leave tomorrow, by sunset. Should I report in from L.A. regularly?"
The Prince shook his sleek, dark head. "Right now, we can't be sure no one else is listening to our phone calls. I can wait until you're back again. Just… don't stay away too long, will you?"
"I don't intend to," Cash stood. "I'm going to speak to Lorraina; and I should check my bike, too. It's gonna be a long ride."
"Just one more thing," Daedalus warned him. "Two-thirds on your way you're going to pass along a small town called Sunnydale. Don't try to make your break there."
"Why not?" Cash never heard of a town with that name.
"Sunnydale has been built above a mystical gateway between dimensions, called the Hellmouth. It used to be the centre of the Antediluvian Cult, until the Master of their sect got killed."
"Killed? A Sabbat warlock? Just like that? By whom?"
"That's the other reason you should avoid that place at any costs," Daedalus said. "It's the Domain of the current Slayer. Not to mention that it's swarming with Sabbat, failed Caitiff (the ones we call the True Undead) and malevolent, man-eating demons."
"We'd like to have you back, Cash," Julian added, "so please, don't play the hero and don't get killed!"
"I'll do my best," Cash smiled, then he winked his goodbyes and left the library to go and seek out Lorraina. He had a rather good idea where he might find her.
TBC
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Ah, but will Lorraina be able to help him?