I awoke from my torpor when twilight was turning into night and quickly headed outside. The twilight made my skin prickle uncomfortably, but this way I could still buy a newspaper before the stores closed. As I fished in my pockets for change, my hand pulled out the flyer with the skull-in-starburst sigul. I stuffed it back into my pocket, bought a newspaper and took a cab to Venture Tower. In the cab, I scanned the newspaper for the story about the fire, and indeed, there it was. "The only guest, Jezebel Locke, lost her life in the fire, that was most likely caused by smoking in bed." I couldn't repress a chuckle. Smoking in bed. My master the Justicar had more police officers in his pocket than he could count, and the Prince of Los Angeles gagged the mouths of snooping news reporters if it was necessary. Both trusted me unconditionally and used their influence without hesitation and without question if I told them it was needed. Well not entirely without question, since Prince LaCroix had requested an update on my progress concerning the plague. I would gladly pay him a visit. He was my Prince and I not a lawless Anarch. Plus, I would have an opportunity to inquire about the strange sigul.

"Downtown L.A., sweetheart," the cabby sang out, chewing gum with loud enthousiasm. "Anyplace specific you need me to drop you off?"

"LaCroix foundation please," I said, looking out the window. This view was something else than Santa Monica's vistas, with their decaying, dirty buildings, their ugly, wretched prostitutes and their seedy shops.

"The LaCroix babypowder company, or the other one?"

I sighed. "The other one." Why would I go to a babypowder manufacturer at eight in the evening?

The cabbie tipped his cap. "You got it, honey." He accelerated and drove a bit too wildly to be healthy. Probably trying to impress, as if he didn't realize that no matter how crazily he drove, I'd never fall for a balding fat guy with a stupid checkered golf cap. But let him have his illusions.

The cab screeched to a halt in front of Venture Tower, the seat of the LaCroix foundation, which existed not only as a source of immense income, but also as a base of operations for the L.A. Camarilla. The tower itself was massive, dwarfing most of the skyscrapers next to it.

"That'll be fifty-two bucks, sugar."

I payed the cab driver and got out, walking toward the double doors with their Gothic statues on either side. They were tacky and a bit over the top, but then again, so was everything these days.

"Ah, Miss Del Rey. I trust you found today's newspaper to your satisfaction?" The Prince always stayed at the Penthouse level, in a large office which was surprisingly scarce of furniture. There was only a table and a chair, other than that the room was always empty, save for the baroque paintings on the walls. The tiles were, as always, polished to an immaculate shine. I strode to the Prince's desk and bowed. "I did, Prince. And my gratitude for your intervention."

LaCroix made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if to say, 'it was child's play.' It probably was, for him. "So. Tell me of your progress concerning this... plague. This... Jezebel Locke, who was she? She did not even announce her presence in my domain. Kindred and their manners these days."

I told him the whole story, and he listened with what I believe was feigned disinterest. "So, the board is turned back to you. What move will you make?"

I hesitated – I couldn't really decide what to do until I found out what that sigul was, and even then, if it was a flyer of a laundry business or something, that'd be the end of this investigation. "I... was hoping I could request your assistance on this, Prince."

LaCroix sighed irritably. He did that a lot. Understandable, if you had the whole city yelling in your ear at the same time. "And what would you ask of me?"

"If you could tell me what this sigul means, or direct me to someone who could, I'd be grateful."

He sighed again and took the crumpled piece of paper. His brow creased, but he said, "I do not believe I've seen this before. You found it in the late Ms. Locke's hotel room, correct?"

"Yes, Prince."

"It has the look of an Anarch or Sabbat emblem. Perhaps they can assist you, though I doubt the Sabbat would be too willing to answer any questions you might have," he added with a cynical chuckle. "And the Anarchs won't be too keen on aiding a Camarilla member either."

"I've taken the liberty of operating under the assumption that all groups of Kindred stand to gain by the elimination of this plague, Prince."

LaCroix nodded. "Perhaps they do. But whether or not the Anarchs will see it that way is another matter. Still, apart from your small sloppiness in the Empire Hotel you seem to be on top of things, so I trust you will have little difficulty weathering this storm, correct?"

"I shall do what is required of me to the best of my abilities, Prince."

"Good. It's good to see some people can still give guarantees. It's disturbing, the lack of talent in this organization as of late."

I didn't really know what to say to that, so I stuck to a neutral, "Yes, Prince."

"So, if there's nothing else," the Prince said, rising from his chair.

I rose as well. I'd worked under the Prince long enough to know what that phrase meant. "There isn't, Prince. Thank you for your time and aid."

"Good," LaCroix nodded. "Oh, and there is one more thing."

He paused, probably because he wanted me to ask.

"...yes, Prince?"

"Since you'll be spending a lot of time with us, here in downtown L.A., and because the ugly wretch that is Santa Monica is no place for a servant of the Justicar, I've secured you a haven nearby, in the Skyeline complex. Don't worry," he chuckled cynically, "not one of the diseased apartments. It's apartment number four. I hope it's to your liking."

There was no answer possible other than, "Yes, Prince, it is. I'm honoured to receive your gift."

He nodded curtly. "Good. That'll be all then."

I was none the wiser when I emerged from Venture Tower, but the trip had not been for naught: I'd gotten a luxurious apartment completely for free and without any effort. Well, the only effort I'd have to make was disabling one camera. I'd go take a look later, but first, there were some Anarchs I needed to have a chat with. I hailed a taxi.

"Last Round," I said when I got in. The driver nodded and drove.