A/N: I've given up trying to predict when I'll come out with new chapter. Roving bands of writer's block gnomes attack me in my sleep. I'll try my best for you to get another out soon. In the meantime, read this chapter and review it please.

Disclaimer: I own, Jessie Renard, Amelia St. Cloud, and Larissa. All the rest belong to someone else.

Chapter 11

The thought occurred to Nigel that being with Jordan had gotten him into more trouble in the last month of romantic bliss, than it had the entire time they were just friends. It was a thought he'd had more than once. It was running through his mind again as he and Jordan snuck into the musty library.

"What exactly is the point of this again, luv?"

"If we're going to be stuck in this house, I at least want to put the time to to good use." Jordan responded. She began rifling through piles of old, official looking papers on top of a nearby table.

"And that use would be?"

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. "I'm looking for information about my mother."

Nigel's head began to throb. "What are you talking about?"

"Amelia said my Mom was part of the Herd right? Under her protection?" Jordan moved on to the drawers of a desk nearby.

"Yes, she did mention that."

"Well, they must keep some record of the Herd. Otherwise, anybody could slap on one of those cute letter "H" tattoos you showed me, and be meat for the beast."

"I don't think that's how it works, luv."

"Exactly." Jordan said. Pulling out a thick tome from the bottom of a large stack. "I'm betting the tattoo thing is a recent development. So, they'd have to have had a way of keeping track back in the 60's. Maybe, if I can find out what her relationship was to the Kindred, I can find out who killed her."

"Jordan. I'm all for helping find out who killed your mother, but snooping around the Prince's house seems a bit like pushing our luck."

"Don't worry so much, Nige." Jordan gave him a mischevious smile. "The Prince likes me, remember? She's an old friend of the family. Besides, she and the other bloodsuckers are busy dealing with Peter, and looking for Dracula-boy."

"Who just happens to be looking for you!"

"Oh, look!" Jordan replied, ignoring her lover's outburst. "This looks like something."

The book she'd opened looked like a ledger in the front. It listed names and dates, the dates presumably corresponding to the date of initiation into the Herd. Jordan scanned the dates listed between her mother's date of birth through the date of her death. After a few minutes, she spotted the familiar name.

"Here it is! Emily Westin (Cavanaugh), May 7th, 1952." Jordan's eyes began to tear up. "She was barely seventeen. How could she be part of this world her whole life, and I never knew?"

"She couldn't let anyone know, Jordan, especially her family." Nigel wrapped his arms around her from behind. He became a support column for her, kissing her hair as she started to tremble. "Look, there's a page number at the end of the row. Here, she's on page 224."

He turned the page to view the information on Jordan's mother. To their surprise, the page was taken up mainly by an ink sketch of a smiling young woman with Jordan's features. Tears began to fall down her cheeks as she read the description of her mother.

"Young Emily Westin was initiated into the Herd as a reward for saving the life of Amelia St. Cloud. St. Cloud, a favorite subject of Prince Carter Putnam of Boston, was cornered by a rogue Brujah, and left to die out in the sun near the Westin family home. Emily gave the Ventrue fledgeling shelter in her family's stables for three days. She was brought into the confidence of the Kindred shortly thereafter, and has been a loyal member of the Herd ever since."

"Sounds like she was a remarkable young woman."

Jordan gave a teary nod. "There's an addendum to the original entry on the next page. It's from '64, when I was a baby. 'Emily Cavanaugh has been removed from active status within the Herd. Having run afowl of one of the new Prince's Malkavian enemies, her mental state renders her useless as a source of nourishment and information. The Conclave has recommended that her memories be altered and all ties to Ms. Cavanaugh be severed.'"

"I don't understand," Jordan grumbled. "What the hell does that mean? What's a Malkavian?"

"It's another clan among the Kindred." Said a voice from behind them. The couple turned, and Jordan let out a strangled scream at the creature before her.

The vampire looked a lot like something out of an old black and white movie Nigel used to like. It featured a rat faced vampire Count with elongated fingernails. If possible, though, she was even less attractive. Her eyes were beady and unevenly set, and her nose was turned completely sideways. The only reason she was recognizable as a female was the tattered Victorian gown she wore over her gnarled frame.

"It isn't polite to stare." The creature snapped. "Didn't your mother ever tell you that?"

Nigel was the first to speak. "So sorry, luv. We just …haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting one of your kind yet."

"And that would be?" Jordan whispered back to Nigel.

"Nosferatu." The vampire screeched in irritation, her thick New England accent bursting through her buck-toothed fangs.. "Your boyfriend at least has manners. You are too much like your mother… The name's Larissa, by the way."

"You knew my mother?"

Larrisa scoffed. "Who didn't? Nosy little chit, that one. Not that I'm speaking ill of the dead. I liked Emily a lot. She had spunk. But oh the trouble she'd get into! Drove the Prince crazy…both of 'em!"

Seeing that Jordan was trying to absorb that whole exchange, Nigel spoke up. "At the risk of sounding even more ignorant, who exactly are you?"

Larissa gave a twisted smile. "I'm the Scribe for this City. You could say I'm the town historian. This is my library you're tearing through."

"So, you're the one who wrote the ledger." Jordan surmised.

"I wrote most of the books in this room." Larissa replied, shrugging her bony shoulders. "And before you ask, I don't have any idea who killed Emily. None of us do. And believe me, if it were up to Amelia, whoever did it would've been dead a long time ago."

"But the ledger mentions something about her running afowl of a Malkavian." Jordan countered.

"That had nothing to do with her death." Larissa shook her head. "That was just an unfortunate byproduct of a political struggle."

"Care to elaborate?" Jordan crossed her arms over her chest. She was getting a bit irritated at Larissa's evasive manner.

"Malkies are the prophets of Kindred society. They're also completely bonkers. Off their rockers, the lot of them. And they have a tendency to be contagious in that respect."

"Are you saying that one of these Malkies did something to my mom?"

"Larissa!"

Everyone turned to see Amelia standing in the doorway. She walked into the room with a stately gait. She paused directly in front of the Nosferatu, and looked down her nose at Larissa. For her part, Larissa just scowled.

"Don't give me that look. Just 'cause you've got your nose on straight, doesn't mean I'm gonna cower before you."

"You've been speaking out of turn again."

"Come on, the kid deserves to know what happened. Besides, you'd have told her anyways. I just got the ball rolling."

Amelia gave Larissa one last eye roll and turned to Jordan and Nigel. "Perhaps we could continue this conversation in the study over some drinks."

"Good. I could use one." Jordan replied.

When they got to the study, Amelia mixed herself a martini and fixed Jordan a double scotch and Nigel a cognac. Very shortly, they were back in the mood for conversation. Amelia took a deep breath and started her story.

"Your mother was a beautiful and generous person. She saved my life." Amelia smiled nostalgically. "She was also incredibly curious about everything in life. Our world fascinated her. Up until she got married, Emily loved mingling through all the high society Kindred parties, and learning all she could about the clans and their histories."

"But what about the Malkavian?"

Amelia sighed. "His name was Deacon. At one point, he and I were lovers. However, when Carter died, and I threw my hat in the ring to become Prince, Deacon opposed me to the fullest. He kept saying something about convergent timelimes and malcontented lollipops."

Jordan raised an eyebrow and made a hand gesture to get Amelia to continue.

"Ah, yes, getting to the point…Deacon knew that Emily and I were very close, and that I had claimed her as a future Childe, should she so choose. In his warped thinking, he got the notion that if he could get control of Emily's mind, he could sway me. So, he tricked her into becoming his Ghoul."

"Ghoul?"

"It's our term for a human whose had intimate contact with a Kindred and formed a blood connection. This affords the human limited use of Kindred abilities, and it allows the Kindred moderate control over the human. In the case of a Malkavian, the Ghoul's mind is usually warped in some way."

"So, you're saying that Deacon scrambled my Mom's brain to get to you?"

Amelia nodded solemnly. "After I became Prince, I ordered Deacon's death. Most of your mother's symptoms dissipated when that bond was broken. Unfortunately, the mental effects didn't disappear completely."

"So, that's what was wrong with her." Jordan breathed, trying to take it all in. For most of her life, she'd blamed herself deep down for her mother's mental problems. Now that she had proof to the contrary from a new, unbiased source, her mind was reeling.

While they were all finishing their drinks, lost in their own somber thoughts, none of them saw the study window cloud over with a black mist as it swung gently open, it wasn't until, a dark figure appeared directly behind the Prince that Jordan looked up and screamed, then the whole world went black.