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 – for reasons that may be explained in later chapters. Let's just say here that they believed to be of common origins.
I don't even pretend to understand about Native American cultures more than the little I've read in reference books – and that was long ago. So, any stupid mistakes I may make are unintentionally and not meant to be an offence.
Still no beta, but at least I've figured out how to make spellchecker and grammar checker work. *g*
PART SEVENShe led Cash back to the main house, but entered it from the backside, getting straight into a long, large, dimly lit room with long, board benches running around, along the four walls, here and there sliced-up tree trunks instead of small coffee tables. About half a dozen Kindred sat on the benches, men and women alike, of different age. The 'Coyotes' had t o be a well-populated bloodline – and extremely well-organized, too, if they dared to live all on the same spot and were able to avoid Cyrus' death brigades. A few others, among them Rose and a bony young girl, probably Isabel, sat separately, as if signalling their different origins.
Their leader was doubtlessly the elderly-looking, grey-haired man taking the central seat right across the door. He wore faded-out jeans and a chequered flannel shirt and sat cross-legged on the bench, smoking a pipe. On his left Cash recognized Blackfeather, who was joined by Eric and a lovely young Native American woman. On his right (the place of honour among Kindred) sat a tall, imposing, long-haired woman, probably in her early forties, with unmistakable Native American features, too, but different nevertheless. In her beautiful, hard face there was a hidden wildness not even the Gangrel possessed. She was clad in jeans and a leather shirt, with a wonderful, hand-woven blanket around her shoulders. Her eyes glittered in a golden light time and again and were slightly slanted. Her scent, too, was different, even more animalistic than that of the Gangrel.
A Garou, Cash realized, reminding himself that his Clan brethren in L.A. were allied to the local werewolves.
Madame Zorza led Cash to the Elder and they both bowed respectfully.
"Honoured Elder," the witch introduced her grand-Childe, "this is Cash, eldest Childe of my wayward progeny, Stevie Ray. He's been… well, he still is the Clan Primogen of San Francisco and serves as the chief bodyguard of Prince Julian Luna."
The Elder scrutinized Cash's face with deep, dark eyes, old as the waters and the woods themselves. His wizened, round face, marred by honourable, ancient scars and his long, snow-white hair proved that he was old, very old… even in mortal years… even before his Embrace.
"Greetings, young wolf," he said to cash, his voice heavy with age but not the least weak or brittle. "I'm called Talking Water and I'm the Eldest of our Clan in this City… both in mortal years and in Kindred generations, albeit no one of us knows which generation we belong."
Cash had to look baffled, because the Elder waved towards the free places next to Blackfeather's family, signalling him to sit, and continued with a smile that only appeared in his eyes.
"You see, young wolf, I was the Elder of a village in Virginia when the first white settlers came. I welcomed them in our midst, not knowing they'd hunt us and kill us to take our land. The whole village paid for my mistake, not that much later. I was left for dead among the other dead, but there was still some life in me. As I lay there, bleeding to death, a coyote came to me. He lapped up my blood, then he changed into a man and fed me his blood. He carried me into a deep, well-hidden cave that must have been his den and watched over me during my Change. After I had Become, he told me to leave and another home. I've never seen him again."
"That's hard," Cash whispered. His own story wasn't that different.
The Elder nodded, thoughtfully. "He taught me a lot about my different new nature, though. So I knew how I was supposed to live this new life he had given me. I started my wanderings and finally ended up here. Originally, this all was Garou territory, but my Maker had told me that because of my special heritage, our Lupine brethren would always welcome me."
"And we do indeed," the woman on his right added, not-quite-human smile on her beautiful, hard face, "Nowhere in the world is another place where the three kinds of us – Kindred, human and Garou – co-exist like we do. Nowhere else are all of us rooted this deep in the Earth Mother like we are. This is a rare gift for which we're all grateful."
"Of course, we're considered Caitiff by most of the Camarilla, since we don't even know our own lineage," Blackfeather added, grinning. "But fortunately, in exchange we are highly respected by other people, who actually do count in this City."
"Most of the Caitiff are from our Clan anyway," Cash answered respectfully. "Abandoning one's Childer until they prove their worthiness is the Gangrel way, even if it makes hard for many of us to connect with the rest of the Clan. I used to be a Caitiff, too, for a decade or so. Besides… no one could ever tell me which Clan Caine belonged to."
"Well, I'm not that fond of this particular Gangrel practice, myself," Blackfeather replied. "Which is why our bloodline keeps the tradition of our mortal people. We keep our Childer with us, teach them, train them – and then make them prove their worthiness through hard tests. We won't waste a Childe through ignorance… and we choose them very carefully."
"The transition is just as hard for us as for any other Kindred," Eric added, "but we don't have to go through it alone. We're watched and guided through it, which keeps our Beast better under control."
The others nodded in agreement… except a tall, imposing man with a scarred and tattooed face and very long hair, whose whole demeanour gave him away as a warrior.
"Sire," he addressed the Elder with a respectful but firm voice, "I think this is not the time to tell the story of our origins in its full length."
Talking Water gave him one of those invisible smiles and nodded.
"Far Runner is right, of course," he said. "Forgive an old man his dwelling in memories, my Childer. We have more urgent issues to discuss indeed. Madame Zorza, I understand you wanted to inform us about some facts that may lie behind the recent events in Baltimore."
Cash perked up his ears suddenly. Until now he'd thought he learned everything about the L.A. situation and considered this meeting as a social visit. It seemed that he'd underestimated his Clan brethren.
Madame Zorza nodded. "I'd read the cards before the Conclave, and what I saw prompted me to go to Baltimore myself. Being rather well known among our Clan, I got the chance to speak to Xaviar personally. I asked him, how could he, a Justicar and a devoted supporter of the Camarilla, undertake such a drastic step."
"What did he answer?"
"He said the Camarilla has become weak and incompetent. He said it couldn't even wear off the Sabbat. He also said, he'd been attacked by an Antediluvian, but he couldn't tell which one it was – if it was an Antediluvian at all."
"Do you believe him?"
"I believe that he honestly believes what he's telling. I'm not sure he's right, though. There are other forces, strong and very old and incredibly evil. But his statement about the Camarilla does have its merits. The sect has become too lazy, too comfortable. As an independent Clan, while still fighting on their side, we might be able to defend our own people and our own interests better."
"Well, this was the path we've been walking ever since we settled down here," Blackfeather remarked. "It works just fine for us… maybe it could work for the rest of our Clan, too."
"It works for us in L.A, – a city without a really strong Prince, full of hiding places," Madame Zorza said. "But it won't work in such tightly-controlled cities as San Francisco, for example. In such cities, you're either with the Prince or against him… or her. The same is true for Sabbat cities: joint them or leave their Domain. As an independent Clan, we'd have to move into Anarch cities… or into the wilderness."
"None of which is easy," Talking Water added. "Wild places have become rare in the recent decades and cannot provide larger groups of Kindred with enough food. Anarch cities, on the other hand, are usually crowded… and not necessarily with the most sociable people."
"Clan wars will inevitably break out again in there," Blackfeather agreed, "and sooner or later, they'll fall into Sabbat hands. Anarch gangs aren't strong enough to keep a city, as they usually fight among each other as well. L.A. is an exception, but only because Salvador Garcia is strong and has numerous forces supporting him. I'm afraid that Xaviar has made a grave error. Lazy as the Camarilla might be, it's still the best-organized part of Kindred society."
"So what you suggest is that I try to keep our people in San Francisco inside the Camarilla?" Cash asked.
"That would be in your best interest," Talking Water answered thoughtfully. "Julian Luna needs your support as much as you need his protection. Keeping up the alliance would mutually benefit both sides. But make a bunch of young, hot-headed neonates understand that won't be easy."
"I'll go back to San Francisco with him," Madame Zorza decided. "I am the eldest of our bloodline on this side of the pond, after all – they had the obligation to listen to me. And if Julian Luna agrees, I'll even stay there for a while to help Cash keep the whelps in line." She looked at Blackfeather. "It would help if I could take Eric with me. We'll need to show our brethren some muscle over there."
Blackfeather shrugged. "It's up to Eric… But he won't be able to stay very long. He is needed here."
"I'll go," Eric said with a grin, "and stay until you call me back, Sire. There's such thing as a phone nowadays, and I can get back in a few hours, if I have to. But I want Ramona to come with us. She's still very weak, and the Camarilla has Kindred doctors in San Francisco."
Talking Water looked at Madame Zorza in askance. The witch nodded. "She might benefit from Daedalus' skills. I'll take her in my van; she can help me to keep an eye on Isabel."
"You intend to take that insane little leech with us?" Eric frowned. "That could complicate things. A lot."
"I can't leave her behind," Madame Zorza pointed out. "She's a nuisance, yes, but I've taken responsibility for her, and you know that I always keep my promises."
"In that case I think we've discussed everything of importance," Talking Water summarized. "When do you leave?"
"Right with the next sunset," Cash answered for all parties involved. "I don't want to leave my people alone any longer than I have to. Tempers are running high at the moment in San Francisco. And the Rabble are unpredictable."
"Oh, I'm sure Salvador will look after your Brujah Primogen shortly," Madame Zorza grinned. "He's known to keep his Get in line. And we'll look after our own. It's a good thing hat Julian Luna chose you to come over."
Everyone agreed with that part. The gathering was dismissed. Madame Zorza went to make preparations for the journey. Eric went to find Ramona and tell her the news. The others returned to their usual work.
That left Cash alone with Rose for one more time.
"So, I guess this is goodbye," she sad with a regretful little smile.
Cash sighed. "I wish I could stay a little longer."
"So do I," Rose said, "but this is not a good time. You're needed at home and so am I. Maybe later, when things calm down a little."
"Yeah, maybe," Cash agreed. "I'm looking forward to it. And it's not that we'd be getting any older."
"No," Rose laughed, "No, we won't. Take care, Cash. And good luck."
TBC
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I know, I know, it's been more than a year since the last update. I've been distracted by Real Life and by other projects. I'll try to write the next part faster. There'll be two more chapters, I guess, but I can never be sure about that. These stories tend to develop a life of their own.