Disclaimer: see in the Introduction.
Smokey, Stone and Mic the Irishman (here only mentioned) belong to the Swordfeast Universe.
Rating: R, for this part, for incest (only mentioned).
Author's notes:
Just as I promised: now that we know who Cameron's Clan ancestors are, in this chapter we'll learn the same about Cash… and meet a very interesting bunch of Gangrels.
Needless to say that Cash's bloodline – just as Cameron's – is completely made up by me. I messed a little with the Gangrel genealogy of White Wolfe Online, and this is the result.
And just a short notice: I haven't got the slightest idea what L.A. really looks like, so please don't argue with me about geography. I assumed that – like every big city – it must have some wooded areas on the outskirts, because I needed one. If there aren't any, please, consider that this is an AU story – in every department.
I tried to find some information about the city, but found none that I could really use. Still, I need this story to happen there, since sooner or later it will focus on Angel, who lives there (well, sort of). I would welcome any hints about useful information sources.
Not beta-ed yet, so be merciful with me.
PART SIX"What now?" Cash asked, when the three Gangrels left the house.
"Now we go to the only safe haven for our people," Eric answered. "You need to meet the Clan Elders, and there's no other place to have a gathering without being detected by Cyrus' henchmen."
"Oh," Cash felt a bit disappointed. "I thought we'd go back to Rose's first. I haven't said my good-byes to her yet."
"You can do that, later," Eric said. "She's coming to our gathering, too. Now let's get our bikes and follow Madame Zorza."
The gypsy fortune teller had a funny-looking van, painted in bright colours and with thick curtains on the small windows. She probably even lived in it, being twice the road-runner: as a gypsy and as a Gangrel. But the vehicle was obviously in a very good shape, and Madame Zorza seemed to prefer a rather reckless driving style.
Not a real challenge for the men's bikes, though.
It took them about forty minutes to reach their destination: a solidly-built, old drive-in motel called 'The Wolfpup's Den', that was bordering a wooded area – not uncommon in several of the detached parts of L.A. Madame Zorza parked her van in front of the main building that was built like a Native American longhouse, brightly decorated with ancient Cherokee and Salish symbols and pictograms. The two men wheeled their bikes over to the left side of the van, right outside the house.
"Where are we?" Cash asked.
"This is the home of my bloodline, the 'Coyotes'," Eric informed him. "The motel belongs to my Sire. Cyrus' lackeys won't risk coming here, so we are safe."
"Why not?"
"The woods over there are Garou territory. The Uktena won't let any of them alive."
"But they tolerate you, don't they?"
"They're Coast Salish Indians. Half of our bloodline has the same origins… just like the mortal tribe in the reservation. We all protect each other: from Cyrus, from the Hunters, from government atrocities. It has been working for centuries. It still works."
"It is rather… unusual, though," Cash said. "What about the Masquerade?"
"The Masquerade is in no danger here," a deep, smooth voice answered from behind them. "Our mortal brethren would never betray us. Human, Garou or Kindred... we're all of the same Blood."
Cash turned and saw a middle-aged, round faced Native American man, clad in jeans, moccasins and a traditionally decorated, soft leather shirt, his slightly greying, black hair in a long ponytail.
"Welcome, brother," he greeted Cash, offering the smaller man a Gangrel-style, quick hug – sniffling discretely and rubbing his face in the short, spiky hair. "I'm Edward Blackfeather, one of the Clan Elders in L.A. It's good to see one of our San Francisco brethren again. Especially with this new situation. We have serious issues to discuss."
"Let me talk to him first, Edward," Madame Zorza asked.
The Cherokee looked at her in surprise. "You haven't settled your family matters yet?"
"No time," the gypsy woman explained. "Carlyle asked for a meeting. I thought Rose would have told you by now."
Blackfeather shrugged. "She hasn't arrived yet."
"But she is not in trouble, is she?" Cash asked, suddenly feeling very worried.
Eric smiled knowingly. 2I don't think so. She's probably collecting Tabitha. Now, why won't you and Madame Zorza go to her room and discuss your private matters while we summon a Clan gathering?"
The gypsy woman nodded in agreement. "Excellent idea, Eric. Cash, come with me!"
Cash obediently followed her to the far side of the motel that almost reached the woods. There stood a small, four-room part of the whole thing, a narrow veranda connecting the rooms with each other. Madame Zorza opened the door of the big room on the left side and ushered Cash in.
"Just a sec," she excused herself. "I have to check something first."
She opened a hidden door behind a seemingly purely decorative curtain and peered into the adjoining room.
"Isabel! Are you in here, kid?"
A high, childish voice answered, almost inaudible, in Spanish. Cash spoke a little Spanish, but this language seemed too ancient for him to understand, and suddenly he remembered the short discussion between Eric and that Brujah girl, Adrienne, who mentioned that Isabel was already over nine hundred years old, most of her unlife spent in torpor.
Not surprising that she'd have old-fashioned speech patterns! he thought.
Madame Zorza answered in the same manner, then she closed the door and turned back to her guest apologetically.
"Sorry for that. Isabel is very unstable, that's why I disguise her as my granddaughter. Cases like her make me an avid supporter of the Camarilla rules. At least they forbid the Embrace of such young children."
"Well, in case of a life-threatening situation…" Cash began, but the Elder interrupted him with an impatient wink.
"I've come to believe that letting them die would be more merciful. In my whole unlife I've never met a single one of them who wouldn't be miserable – or unspeakably evil."
"Eric said there have been those who've adapted."
"Yeah. But they're still miserable, all of them. Now, have a seat, wolfpup; we have other things to discuss."
Cash sat down on a plush sofa of a shockingly bright colour (somewhere between purple and violet – and the most horrible shades of both), and looked expectantly at his host.
"I'm listening…"
"Actually, I'd like you to talk first," Madame Zorza fetched a bottle of excellent bloodwine from a small fridge, hidden in a ridiculously styleless cupboard, and poured some of it into two very old-looking crystal goblets. "Rose told me on the phone that you're one of Stevie Ray's whelps. Is that true?"
"Yes," Cash answered, utterly surprised. "Did you know him?"
The red-haired witch grinned. "You can say that... I made him, after all."
"You?" Cash stared at the woman in awe. "You're my grand-Sire?"
Madame Zorza nodded, still grinning, clearly content with herself and her achievements concerning her progeny.
"In the flesh… well, more in the Blood, actually. I guess, Stevie Ray never told you anything about his origins, did he?"
"Not really," Cash admitted. "We weren't very close… he never bound with any of us really tightly."
"How many of you are there in San Francisco?" the Elder asked. ''I mean, how many of you are his?"
"Five. Smokey, Lorraina, Stone, Mic the Irishman and myself. I'm the eldest, though. Stevie Ray Embraced me at the height of the Clan Wars because he needed a warrior."
"And you were one?" Madame Zorza shot a doubtful look at the rather small, though well-muscled man. Cash shrugged.
"Yeah. I was an Army Ranger during World War II. Just mustering out when Stevie Ray attacked me in a dark alley. I had a split second to decide between unlife and Final Death," he added in a bitter voice. "After that, he abandoned me for a decade or so – just to pick me up unexpectedly and throw me into the house of the Prince as a hostage."
"Stevie Ray was a selfish bastard," Madame Zorza agreed. "He was the only Childe I ever regretted to have made. He always felt he was above us – never found his own Clan, his own bloodline good enough… He should have been a Ventrue," she added with disgust.
"Then why have you made him in the first place?" Cash asked.
His newly-found ancestor sighed. "Because the same things that made him such a lousy Childe, actually made him a very tempting lover. I run into him when he was still Warm and wanted to keep him, so I made him one of us. It was a grave mistake. When I realized that he felt ashamed of his own bloodline, I simply disowned him."
"Ashamed?" Cash repeated, not understanding a word. "Why would he be ashamed?"
"Because most of us were gypsies. He didn't realize I was one, until it was too late. He always wanted to be something more… fine, more… sophisticated," she shrugged. "Clearly Ventrue material. No wonder he ended up licking Archon Raine's boots."
"Tell me more about our bloodline," Cash begged. "All those years I spent as a rootless Caitiff I've dreamed about belonging. Then Archon, no matter how harsh a Master he was, gave me a home and a purpose. After his Final Death, Julian kept me in service – but as much as I love him, he's no family. I've given up hope to find my own people since Stevie Ray's death."
"How did he die?" Madame Zorza asked.
"During Clan quarrels," Cash replied. "Eddie Fiori had him kidnapped, then staked with a metallic antennae and left on a rooftop to burn."
Madame Zorza shut her eyes, shuddering. "What a horrible way to go! And now it's you who's taken his place?"
"Yes, I am," Cash paused. "Madame, couldn't you come back to San Francisco with me, just for a while? All we have there are neonates; we could need an Elder in these times."
The Elder pondered about that thought for a moment.
"I might," she decided. "Let me think about it a while. Now, you want to know about our origins, right?"
"Very much."
"All right, listen then. The Eldest of our Line was a woman of Powerful Blood, called the Montreal Methuselah. She was of 4th generation and already very, very old when, in the 16th century, she and her three progeny (from we know nothing about) wandered south from Montreal. During the thirty years the Brood spent wandering through the region, two new Gangrel were created. One was a prominent medicine man of the Wampanoag; the other was a young Nipmuck warrior who disappeared less than a year after his Becoming."
"Does it mean that our Line is Native American in origin?" Cash asked in surprise.
"Actually, it is," the Elder nodded. "But this changed shortly thereafter, as you will see in a minute. The Wampanoag Medicine Man, the second of our Line – or, to be more precise, the second that we know by name – founded his haven in California, for he had been a friend of the Garou since his Warm days. In 1571, when the white colonists started to hunt down the Indians, as they called the people of this continent, he was mortally wounded and left for dead. Before he'd have burnt in the Sun, however, he Embraced the first person who came along, in order to continue our bloodline."
"Desperate times ask for desperate measures," Cash said. "Still, it could have come to a bad end."
"True," Madame Zorza agreed, "but fortunately, it hadn't happened that way. This person happened to be Battista Decamerone, a Venetian humanist, who fled to the New World from the Holy Inquisition, during the reign of Emperor Charles V. He spent here almost a century (actually, he was a friend of our most famous Noddist, Beckett), and didn't return to Europe until the 1630es. He was destroyed by the Spanish Inquisition, shortly after Embracing Talos."
"Talos?" repeated Cash with a frown. "The name sounds familiar. Wasn't he a Spanish gypsy, very much respected in our Clan?"
"Among other things," the Elder nodded. "He used to be the leader of his tribe, the Kalderash Romany, pursued by the Spanish Inquisition because his people were pagans, practicing old rituals and magic. He met the dying Battista in prison and asked for the Embrace, in order to protect his tribe better."
She grinned evilly for a short moment. "Of course he's always had his own very weird ideas about protection. You were in World War II, you say… have you ever heard about the fate of the concentration camp near Gödker?"
Cash nodded, his eyes cold and bitter. "The whole tribe of the Szdano Romany died there when the camp was lost to misplaced Allied bombing."
"That was the official story at Berlin, anyway," Madame Zorza grinned again. "The truth is, the camp was destroyed from the inside, when the Nazis included Talos among the gypsies incarcerated. That night, with the typical Gangrel regard for the Masquerade, my Sire Embraced fully half the tribe of the Szdano Romany with whom he had been captured."
"He did what?" Cash almost choked on his bloodwine.
Madame Zorza shrugged. "Obviously, he felt that it was the right thing to do. Needless to say, the hastily-drafted neonates fed well – not much of the camp was left when the Nazis checked in the next morning. That's why the 'Lupus' bloodline is so widely-spread as it is."
"Have you been one of… those?" Cash asked.
Madame Zorza shook her head. "No, I've been Embraced much earlier: in 1795. I'm a Kalderash and a 6th grade mortal descendant from Talos himself. I used to be his prize Childe – and his lover for half a century. Came to the New World in the 1820es, when half of our mortal tribe decided to migrate. Wandered through the country, following the path of our founder, until I settled down in California – more or less. I still travel a lot, you know. But mostly, I live here. There are some neonates who desperately need guiding, and I can provide it them."
"Like Rose?"
"Like Rose and others, older and younger than her," she paused, curious. "You've found a liking in Rose, haven't you?"
"I have, yes."
"Good; she needs someone like you. She's precious, you know. Her stupid Sire defected to the Sabbat; she's very lonely."
"Then I'm not the right one for her," Cash sighed. "I can't stay here with her – neither can I offer any commitment right now… if ever."
"That's all right," Madame Zorza said. "You can give her your passion; for the time being, it's enough. You can take your time, both of you, to work this out – you're not mortal, after all. Time presses you not."
Cash nodded in agreement. Right now, he had big issues to deal with. He had to make the Clan in San Francisco find the right decision – or give up the only home he'd ever known. But after that's done, he'll come back to Rose – for a visit, for good, he didn't know yet. He only knew that he needed her desperately – not the same way he had wanted Sasha, but no less. Probably even more, on a more elementary level.
"Is your Sire still alive?" he asked suddenly.
Madame Zorza grinned again. For her age she was a very easy-going person – not a common trait among Kindred Elder.
"Well, alive being relative, of course, but yes, he's still around somewhere. Mostly in Europe, though; he rarely visits the States."
"You must miss him terribly," Cash murmured. "Being his mortal descendant, his Childe and his lover for decades…"
The Elder tilted her head in a bird-like manner, her eyes getting cold.
"Not really. He was a stubborn, pig-headed, abusive Sire, like Romany males in his Warm days often were. I'm glad we've got an ocean between us – not that he'd be able to hurt me any more. I've grown a lot since then."
"But the loneliness…" Cash said, somewhat uncertainly. "I had little love for Stevie Ray, but still… when he was killed and our weak bond broken, it hit me pretty hard."
"You're still very young, for one of us," Madame Zorza smiled. "You'll find the people who can fill that empty space inside you. Rose… probably others, too. Just keep an open mind."
"Have you…? Found such people, I mean."
"Sure I have. I had many different lovers during the last couple of centuries, and enjoyed being with every single one of them. Of course, I've chosen them very carefully; just like I chose Jacopo."
"Your current… partner?"
"Oh no, wolfpup," Madame Zorza laughed, "the good Jacopo isn't my partner. As much as I like him, it would be foolish to let a Ravnos get involved with my business. I only share my bed with him."
"A Ravnos? You're seeing a Ravnos?"
Cash was shocked – understandably, considering the fact that Gangrel and Ravnos had been at odds since the dawn of time, despite the legends of their common ancestry – or maybe exactly for that reason. Sibling rivalry could become the worst kind of hatred sometimes.
The Elder chuckled. "I'm not seeing him. I'm just bedding him. 'Sides, he's not that bad – for a Ravnos."
"Oh, please!" Cash rolled his eyes. "If anyone ever gave Gangrel and gypsies a bad name, these guys did. They are professional liars and deceivers, with the most wickedly black sense of humour – and they are into the Black Arts, too."
"Many of them are," Madame Zorza agreed, "and some of them are downright evil. There are those in this City, too. One of them is even with the Sabbat. But Jacopo's different. He's an adventurer, a risk-taker… he's proven to be very useful for us, every time and again."
"He could have lied to you," Cash warned her.
"He couldn't have lied to my cards," Madame Zorza shrugged. "But he was able to infiltrate Sabbat cities for us, and to get news and messages from friends and brethren trapped in there. He was the one to rescue Isabel from New York and helped Ramona against the worst Ravnos infernalist of these days."
Cash frowned. "I heard about Ramona, I think. Forcibly Embraced street kid, possesses the 'Ghost Sight', isn't she?"
Madame Zorza nodded. "She's one of my associates… my most valued student. She went to New York to seek out the Eye of Hazimel; the most vicious weapon ever made for our kind… and discovered that Khalil Ravana had it. The guy is addicted to diablerie, has already gained three generations – Ramona'd have been no match for him."
"The Eye of Hazimel?" Cash was petrified. "Does that damn thing really exist? I thought it was a myth."
"Some myths turn out to be true," Madame Zorza answered glumly. "Unfortunately, those tend to be the darkest ones. Anyway, the Eye does exist and is still in the possession of the Setite Elder, Hesha Ruhadze, as far as I know. Which is the best solution for everyone; Hesha is a wise man who knows how to keep it under control – for the time being."
"But not forever…?"
"Nothing is 'forever', not even us, Childe of my Childe. There are always changes, mostly for the worse, and we have to see how we can adapt to them. That's one of the reasons why we called this gathering – to discuss our strategies. Come with me now, the others will already be waiting."
Cash got up obediently and followed her outside.
"What are the other reasons?" he asked, walking on her side.
"There are various ones," she answered. "The situation in L.A. has been grave, even before Cyrus took the City by muscle, and it has gotten worse during his reign. Aside of a few Anarch, the people you're gonna meet in a second, are our whole Clan here. So many of us have been killed by Cyrus' henchmen! But that's not our only concern. The main problem is that L.A. has been an open City for too long."
"Which means… what exactly?"
"That there hasn't been a power strong enough to keep out the Sabbat for at least a century. Also, there are various tribes of demons, living in this Domain; some of them are harmless, but many of them very, very evil. Not to mention certain human groups who team up with the Sabbat or the demons, just to gather more power. They're probably the most dangerous for us."
"Why?" Cash inquired, although he started getting the picture.
"Because they know about our existence. They might choose to work with us – well, with the Sabbat anyway – for now, but once they've reached their goals, they won't hesitate to call the vampire hunters to get rid of us. All of us," she sighed. "Now, let's speed up, or we'll be late."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The story about Talos and the Szdano Romany was found on the White Wolfe Online website – obviously, it's not mine.
And if you've watched ''Angel – the Series'', you certainly know which groups of humans work with the Sabbat – does the name ''Wolfram & Hart'' ring a bell? Yes? Then it won't be too hard for you to guess just who Cyrus actually is. Hint: some people have several different names. g
Okay, next time: Cash meets the whole Clan Gangrel of L.A. – and other interesting people.