Disclaimer: see in the Introduction.
Rating: G, for this part
Author's notes:
Last chapter before the end. Julian has two some… surprising visitors and is forced to re-think his opinions about Clan Brujah. Also, there will be slight hints to my vampire crossover AU of which this story is a sequel to.
PART NINESan Francisco, 29. August 1999
The library of Julian LunaJulian Luna was still sitting in his library, sipping wine and talking to his Brood-brother when the phone rang. Jeffrey took it, listened – then he turned to Julian, a little stunned.
"It's Michael from the gate. There are some L.A, Brujah who want to see you, Julian."
The Prince groaned. Just what he needed right now!
"What do they want?"
"Apparently, they are visiting the city and want to present themselves to the Prince first," Jeffrey said, after checking with Michael.
Julian raised an eyebrow. That didn't sound like the usual Rabble. Still, the fact that they arrived at the same time as the whole Clan Gangrel of San Francisco attended a meeting and therefore couldn't do their usual guarding work, was a little too much for being a mere coincidence.
"How many of them are there?"
"Four. Two men and two women. Michael says that they positively reek of money."
"Good," Julian sighed. "Order six Ventrue guards into the foyer. And call for Daedalus. I'll meet them there."
Ten minutes later Julian descended the stairs to the foyer. The Brujah waiting for him could not be more different from Eddie Fiori's usual mob even if they tried. The two men were at least two hundred years old, he could feel that, and the older-looking one of them positively radiated power.
The lady on his arm was of exquisite elegance – not only beautiful but carrying herself with the almost-unconscious arrogance of someone born to money and power. She looked like a young Sofia Loren in her best years (Julian had had a soft spot for the Italian actress one time), her string of pearls obviously not a fake, and in her dark eyes glittered that controlled wildness only Brujah women of good breed could radiate.
The young blonde woman, pretty as she was, wore all signs of a professional assassin: composed behaviour, ice blue, cold eyes on high alert, a deceivingly small hand resting over some hidden weapon. Julian had been an Enforcer long enough to recognize someone of the same trade.
Remembering Cash' report, the Prince had a good idea just who these upper-class Brujah – who were obviously a lot more dangerous than Eddie could have ever dreamed to become – might be. Still, he chose to play his expected role for the time being.
"Greetings," he said neutrally. "I am Julian Luna, the Prince of this city. I understand you wanted to see me?"
"Indeed, my Prince," the older man said with a barely implied bow. He had a Spanish accent – not Mexican but true Spanish as it had been spoken in the Old World, a century or two earlier. "My name is Salvador Garcia. I am the Minister of the Eastern City of Los Angeles." He inclined his head toward the lady on his arm. "My wife, Contessa Andrea Visconti. Alonzo Solace, an old associate of mine and my pilot," he added, "and my youngest Childe and chief bodyguard, Allison Maller."
"Welcome," Julia kissed the Contessa's elegant, slender hand. "May I ask, Contessa, whether you are related to Luigi Visconti?"
"In both, flesh and Blood," she replied in a deep, sensuous voice, and Julian got the feeling that she might be even older than her husband, probably even a lower generation Kindred. "Luigi is my Sire, and we own together several banks in Italy and the States. Do you know him?"
"Not personally, but we do have shared business interests," Julian felt mildly shocked, realizing that he might have done business with a Brujah for decades. "I didn't know he was Kindred, though."
The Contessa gave him a mysterious smile that would have put a Toreador siren to shame. "Luigi is a very private man."
"So am I, and people still know what I am. Well, our people, at least."
"You are a Prince," the Contessa pointed out. "You can't hide completely. It comes with the office."
"True enough," Julian admitted. Then he looked at Garcia. "I assume you are here to see Cameron? Cash has told me about your… connection."
"Actually," Garcia replied to his surprise, "I'm here to see you. Although I do intend to pay a visit to my so-far-unknown grand-Childe as well."
Julian arched an eyebrow. "You have come to see me?" he repeated. This was a rather unexpected twist of events.
The Brujah nodded. "I also represent Louis Fortier in this case. And the L.A. Tremere Chantry. I understand that you know Fortier?"
"Not personally," Julian answered, "although our ways have crossed a few times in Clan business. But my contacts in L.A., sparse as the are, run through Edward Vignes and his family. However, it surprises me a little that the L.A. Ventrue Primogen would ask you to speak for him. No offence intended."
"None taken," the Brujah shrugged. "As you probably know, Fortier is the Minister of the Western City of Angels. He and I have a truce that has worked to our mutual advantage for decades. Cyrus' takeover four years ago has caused serious problems for both of us. So when I learned about Cameron and decided to pay a visit my Clan brethren here, Louis asked me to give you this…"
He signalled his pilot, and the beautiful Spaniard produced a thick folder of dark leather, offering it to Julian.
"What is this?" the Prince asked.
"A detailed record of Cyrus' activities," Garcia answered. "We had had him under surveillance ever before he pushed himself up to princedom; for business reasons. His Sire is a serious business adversary of ours. Nevertheless, the takeover caught us by surprise," he admitted sourly. "We never thought he had so much ambition in him."
Julian frowned. He took the folder from Solace, opened it and glanced over the first document. It was a report from two days earlier, signed by someone named XX Jackson.
"You are quite up to date," he remarked. "I'll need some time to study these reports. How long are you staying in the city?"
The Brujah shrugged again. "It depends. The Contessa has some business to tend to, and I need to have a serious talk to Cameron before I decide whether or not to lift the ban from his line. Several serious talks, most likely. But you don't need to worry. I might have been an Anarch for a couple of centuries, but I honour the Camarilla rules by now. So does my household. We won't Hunt outside of Brujah territory, and we won't cause any trouble."
"Good," Julian replied, "because I have the feeling that you – all of you – could cause serious trouble if you chose to."
A cold smile appeared on Garcia's face. "You have no idea…"
"Oh, I think I have," Julian countered with equal coldness, "and I appreciate the good intentions. Trouble isn't something I'd wish for right now. Where are you staying?"
"I don't know yet. Any good hotels you would recommend?"
"There are a few excellent ones run by Kindred, for Kindred," Julian said. "Jeffrey can give you a list if you want."
"That would be appreciated; I don't want to stay in Cameron's haven, at least not before I've decided about him." Garcia thought for a moment. "We should talk before I leave your city. If you don't mind, I'll have Alonzo call you when we have settled in and make an appointment."
Julian nodded. If the Brujah offered him an easy chance to keep an eye on his activities, that was fine with the Prince. "That would be acceptable. It seems we have a few concerns in common."
"Don't underestimate the Sabbat threat, my Prince," the Brujah warned. "It is worse than you might believe. And this time we are in it all together." He paused, collecting himself with practiced ease. "Thank you for your time. We shall contact you shortly."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"The Brujah was right, you know," an achingly familiar voice said as soon as Garcia and his people left.
Julian whirled around – then he grinned broadly at the pale, dark-haired and green-eyed man who stood in the middle of the foyer as if he had materialized out of thin air.
"Alexei!" the Prince exclaimed in delight and rushed to hug his elder Brood-brother – just to back off in the last minute and wrinkle his nose. "By Caine, what is this horrible stench?"
Alexei Roganoff laughed. "Sorry, Julian. I'll wash it off. But the only way to get out of New York safely was to share the body bag with the corpse of a Vietnam veteran, brought home after many years of his death."
Julian shook his head. "You never change," he said half fondly, half exasperated. "Always the extravagant, the risk-taker."
"Which is the very reason why Archon has chosen you as his successor and sent me to New York as his undercover agent," Alexei replied, grinning.
"True enough," Julian agreed, eyeing the other with fondness. "When have you arrived?"
"Just after the Rabble. Who were they, by the way?"
Julian gave him the short version of the story. Alexei listened thoughtfully. Then he sighed and ran a hand through his unruly black hair.
"I hope they do contact you, soon, Julian," he said soberly, "because we really need strong allies, no matter which Clan they are from."
"Is the situation that desperate?" Julian asked.
"Worse," Alexei replied grimly. "I don't know how much of what this Madame Zorza speaks is genuine Sight and how much is the usual gypsy mumbo-jumbo, but the Sabbat is definitely planning something really big."
"Details?"
"Lots of them. I'll write down for you everything I know. The problem is, all the data are scattered. There is no recognizable pattern to them. It's like Anatole's utterings… Speaking of which, Anatole has reappeared again. He's been seen in San Diego."
Julian paled. The mad Malkavian prophet had been hiding during the last decade or so. His reappearance was a very big sign.
"That speaks for the gypsy witch," he said. Alexei shrugged.
"Maybe, maybe not. We'll see. But there's more, Julian. Angelus is back. He's been spotted in L.A."
"I see," for quite a while, Julian was unable to make any comment. "I guess he is about to push forward the Sabbat takeover, isn't he?" the Prince asked then.
To his surprise, though, Alexei shook his head. "Doesn't look like that. He's said to be hunting the Sabbat in these days."
"Oh, come on, Alex," Julian frowned. "HE very nearly managed to break the dimensional gate wide open and release the Antediluvians into our world again."
"That's true," Alexei nodded, "but only because the Ravnos curse was broken. It seems someone has fixed it, and Angelus has become something akin to a vampire hunter."
"He is truly insane," Julian murmured, "he always has been. Small wonder, though, considering what the Order of Aurelius has become in the recent centuries."
"Well, they were founded by Malkavians in the first place – how sane could they be to begin with?" Alex pointed out. "And since they have practiced Vaulderie during all their existence, practically every single one of them is infested with Malkav's madness. Add the dark arts and blood rituals they've been taken over from the Tremere antitribu among them, and the result can't be anything short disastrous."
"Have you ever met Angelus in person?" Julian asked.
"Once, not long after he had been cursed," Alexei answered. "He lived in the sewers of New York back then, fed on rats and not even the Nosferatu were willing to come near him. Everyone thought he'd walk into the sun one day. I don't know what changed that, but thy say he was seen wih an odd little demon called Whistler for a few times."
"It's getting better and better," Julian rolled his eyes. "Sabbat. True Undead. Demons. Garou. What else can come?"
"Few cities had the benefit of strong, unbroken Ventrue leadership like yours had," Alexei replied seriously. "San Francisco has been sheltered so far, thanks to Archon... and to you. You have no idea what's going on in other big cities, Julian. I wouldn't believe myself, had I not seen it with my own eyes. Let me tell you – it's bad, really bad. Any alliance you can forge would be acceptable, if it means to keep your city safe. This time, you can't be picky."
Julian looked into Alexei's eyes and saw fear in them. That shook him to the bone. Alexei had always been known as the daredevil among Archon's Childer – he was almost Brujah in his risk-taking. Otherwise he couldn't have survived in a Sabbat city for this long. And now he was afraid. That meant trouble. Big trouble.
"We'll discuss this on the Conclave," the Prince finally said. "Go now, take a bath, feed and rest. Your old rooms have been prepared for you."
"It'll be nice to sleep comfortably and without fear for a change," Alexei murmured, weariness showing clearly on his face. "It has been too long, Julian. I'm afraid even I have reached my limits."
"You are at home now," Julian replied, "and I intend to keep you here for a while. You have more than deserved a break."
TBC