"I spy with my eye something beginning with S," I said, confident I had something they wouldn't guess this time.
"Malk if you say sand again I swear to God I'll throw you in front of a bus," Kent snapped.
"At least she's not trying to get us to count the stars," Romero pointed out dryly.
I followed the grave guard's gaze to Anatole who was walking with his head turned upwards pointing at each star as he counted them. He had gotten to two hundred and twenty-two, Kent had threatened to stake him at a hundred and behead him at two hundred.
"Oh, oh," I piped up eagerly as I hastened towards him, "you should name them! Can we name them? That one should be Shiny," I said as I pointed at a large, white one, "that one is Silver," I pointed at a smaller, glittering one, "that one is Sparky," I pointed at one flickering in and out of existence, "and that one should be Steve." I pointed at a pale almost gold one.
"Steve," Kent repeated sardonically, "how do you go from Shiny, Silver and Sparky to Steve?"
"Steve the Star," Romero commented happily, "it has a ring to it, surely you like that whole alliteration thing?"
I had been wary of the grave guard's reaction to my returned vampiric state, fearful that the bond we had forged as mortals would be broken but I had been wrong. Romero had greeted me with a smile, a hug and a soft kiss on the brow before murmuring that he loved me mortal, ghoul or vampire and was happiest with whatever made me happiest.
"Who keeps teaching you big words?" Ash queried sombrely as he raised his dark eyebrows and gave Kent an almost accusing stare. The moody Toreador walked apart from our seemingly ever growing group with a scowl on his face. He and V.V had arrived amongst us two days into my change. I had learned that V.V had been summoned by Isaac in an attempt to appease Strauss. Apparently the fanged magician had been less than content with our disruptions of late and someone, most probably Anatole, had given him the impression that we were going to quit LA for Egypt to seek out the Aralu without him. After some empty Camarilla threats and a few promises to expose Sebastian and me and see us both executed, Strauss had finally calmed down when V.V had arrived. Ash had come in tow with V.V, just like that sneaky shit that comes when you think you've gone for a wee, he was an unwanted bonus. Apparently Ginger had been left in charge of Hollywood and was showing why swans were to be feared.
Ginger was not the only one absent, Heather had not coped well with Kent's violent feedings and suicidal tendencies, he had released her from her bond to her and left her in down town L.A under Nines' protection. Rob and Damsel had stayed too, Rob had hit the berserk phase when learning what Aristotle had done to me. Isaac assured he would send word back to L.A as soon as possible to assure Rob that I was myself again but there was a hint from Beckett that my brother had finally suffered the mark of the Gangrel and might not be able to console himself with word that I was a mad Malkavian again.
Kent turned his head upwards to the sky and remarked, "I'm pretty sure Sparky is a plane."
We were walking along the streets of Cairo heading for down town to sanctuary. It was just as well it was one in the morning and the streets were mainly deserted as it was hard to tell who in our group was drawing the most attention.
"How did I fall so hard?" Sebastian lamented. He walked unbound as to have him in chains would draw too much attention but he was guarded on either side by Strauss and Isaac, and Kent's gaze rarely left him though he took care to walk behind the blonde.
"Really Sebastian?" Strauss queried sardonically. "You were a weak ruler."
"You let a golem run wild in Hollywood," Sebastian retorted heatedly. Seeing Strauss' miffed look he sneered, "oh yes Strauss even I heard about that one."
"Camarilla fops," Isaac scorned them, "that's the issue with both of you, you're obsessed with control."
"Yes Isaac because you aren't in a position of control as a Baron, are you?" Sebastian commented sardonically with an icy stare.
"You know low key means less conversation about matters of Kindred," Beckett remarked calmly. It was Beckett who led the way, taking us to parley with the native prince before we sought out a resting place. No surprise that the scholar had friends in Egypt. It was odd but whilst I was free from a ghoul's bond I still felt a tie to the Gangrel Noddist, one which only grew when I discovered he had brought Percy along the trip for me.
"Low key," Kent sneered, "coming from the head of Clan Crazy." He gestured with a finger to Anatole who was shouting obscenities at a poster for a vet that depicted a cat. "Your friend has attempted to convert a traffic cone, carved Anatole Was Here into an ancient statue of Horus, thus ruining its perfect appearance that survived for thousands of years, and egged a shop window because he thought the faceless mannequin was looking at him funny and this is all in the space of thirty minutes! And your other friend," he turned a glower on Aristotle, "well he's been a fuck up since he joined us, untrustworthy, a traitor and a liar according to you and the dead again Christian over there but you didn't protest much when he sullied Ariadne!"
"Clan Crazy," I said happily, "hmm I like it but then if Beckett is the head is he still master of this one?" I looked to the Gangrel with puzzlement. I found it easier to look to Beckett than Aristotle. With Aristotle there was a subtle hum, an unseen thread connecting he and I for eternity or until one of us met with an untimely end or became mortal, which was possible as I had proved. Oh the possibilities. Aristotle was the sire and I the childe, my bond with poor deceased Alex was undone forever, severed by the master of madness, and now a new one had been forged in its place by the scholar of changing loyalties.
"Better myself than the alternative Malkavian," Aristotle remarked haughtily. He walked with perfect poise, hands clasped behind his back, head high, gaze directly ahead, beard polished, ponytail tight and without loose strands, a perfect gentleman. "Imagine he had gotten to her first, then she would be babbling about Gehenna and God."
"Oh yes," Kent sneered, "such a choice between Tweedle Dumbass and Tweedle Demented."
"The childe is not a carbon copy of the sire," Beckett argued, "as you know Aristotle. At any rate, it had to be someone Kent and better she was restored to a clan she knew."
"You're just saying that because you collect crazies," Kent grumbled.
"If that's so I'm a rare edition," I bragged.
"We're here," Beckett remarked quietly. He didn't need to, the vampire guards that had moved to surround us had made that much obvious.
"It was sand grains," I announced happily, "no one guessed so I get a point."
We were somewhere between night and dawn, between life and death or was it immortality and dust? Sandwiched somewhere in the modern and ancient, we were the ham between a slice of doom and gloom. Still, one could perish with a worse view.
"What's the rent on this place?" I queried inquisitively.
"Malk I love you and I missed you but for the love of God such the fuck up," Kent muttered quietly to me.
We were in a tight cluster, forced to stand in an odd unity by a ring of guards both ghoul and vampire as we faced an ancient being on a throne. Despite where we were our current location wasn't entirely Egyptian but rather an odd mixture of Egyptian and Middle East and probably a few other things I wasn't cultured enough to recognise.
We had been approached in the city by a large group of armed ghouls that consisted of a few police men and private guards led by a sprightly red-headed Toreador who dressed like a modern day explorer straight of a Hollywood flick in that her breasts were huge, her clothes too expensive and her hair too glossy, all suggesting that she hadn't actually done any real exploring. She had introduced herself as Christabelle, instantly endearing herself to Anatole for her name alone, and compelled us with a cheerful smile to submit to a peaceful escort to the prince of Cairo. Beckett had suggested we comply and so, despite V.V's grumblings that 'Chesty Bells' was probably leading us into a trap, we had followed like explorers chasing the gold to the cursed tomb.
Christabelle and her group had escorted up to the hills on the outskirts of Cairo where a citadel stood protected by high stone walls, though not so high that the view of Cairo and the pyramids was obscured for the top floor of the citadel. I had pointed out this flaw as we were led through a heavy set of modern steel gates to the grounds of the citadel but it had gone unnoticed.
"Such a mixture of Kindred you bring to my presence Christabelle," the deep voice of the vampire on the throne called out. "A group large enough to be considered something more than tourists."
"And this is what happens with a Caitiff takes the throne," Sebastian scoffed loudly.
The blonde stood at the front of our group between Strauss and Isaac appearing as our speaker instead of our prisoner. Isaac, normally so conscious of appearances, seemed to realise the error of this too late.
"Perhaps you should have told him to shut the fuck up too," Anatole suggested to Kent with a snicker.
Kent rolled his eyes and shrugged. "What's the point, none of you are fucking whispering and I don't think this guy is hard of hearing."
"Guy?" the man on the throne repeated with an incredulous look.
He had a swarthy appearance that not even death could lighten, he had died somewhere in his late twenties perhaps with enough time to grow a bushy charcoal beard with hair down to his shoulders to match. Even on his throne he was tall, cutting a muscular imposing figure dressed in a military styled blue uniform with a gold sash and gold buttons.
"Right, right," Christabelle piped up chirpily as she hastened forward. Her brown, high heeled boots made a loud clatter with her quick steps as they smacked off the marble floor and echoed through the large chamber. She stopped before us all and faced us as she gestured behind her with one hand to the man on the throne. "This is the Mukhtar Bey, Prince of Cairo," she announced loudly and dramatically. She turned with a blur to face the prince and bowed whilst crying out, "all must show their respects to his highness!"
The prince gestured for her to rise with his right hand and she obeyed.
"Well Sebastian," Strauss remarked frostily, "you can't complain too much, at least he's aligned with the Camarilla."
"He's clanless," Sebastian snarled back stubbornly.
"Do you know Ardeth Bey?" I pondered curiously. "Ooh are you some reborn mummy priest?" I gazed up at the prince in confusion. "Hey could you settle a bet we have going on?" I gestured to Romero. "He says mummies don't want brains but I saw one eat organs!"
Romero sighed. "Not that this is the time but you're confusing two Mummy movies and they're not real."
"I feel that considering our circumstances you could all strive for a little more decorum," Beckett suggested in a testy voice that I knew hinted at a growing anger in him.
"Why Beckett that sounds almost Toreador of you," Kent taunted him.
"I just enjoy my existence and have no desire to lose it because none of you can show some courtesy to a prince in his own land," Beckett retorted calmly. His crimson gaze was upon our prince host but he showed no unease, in fact he was smiling.
"Caitiffs shouldn't be princes," Sebastian complained.
"Well he's more of a prince than you are right now," Strauss scolded him.
Christabelle blinked at us in confusion and then turned back to face her prince, clearly unsure what she was meant to do now.
"Well if I have to be executed because Sebastian keeps insulting him I want to know if mummies eat brains or not before I die," I pouted.
"You've died so often it won't even matter," Anatole complained. He looked bored and kept glancing at the architecture with displeasure. I didn't think he liked the animal headed deities that decorated the walls much.
"Perhaps one of you would like to represent your group and explain your presence?" the prince suggested with a cool stare.
Strauss, Sebastian and Isaac exchanged heated looks as they all determined to be that one.
"Since we are already acquainted perhaps you would trust my word Mukhtar?" Beckett quipped calmly.
"You might have familiarity but you lack age and experience," Aristotle scorned.
"At least he's not a thief of ancient treasures like you," Anatole snapped.
"Yep that's what he wants to hear," Kent commented sarcastically, "that we've brought a vampire of European appearance who's a thief of ancient treasures to Egypt because that always goes well doesn't it? Not like the Europeans have a reputation for nicking valuable stuff from Egypt is it?"
V.V tutted loudly before stepping forward, pushing herself between Strauss and Sebastian, knowing that Strauss would give way to her. She moved elegantly, swinging her hips with ease, each stride slow and deliberate and without a loud thunk despite her high heels. I couldn't see her face but I could imagine the soft, beguiling, grey stare she was turning up to our host, it was one she used often on men.
I glanced over at Yukie, the only other female in our group, to see if she was as envious of V.V's grace but she was occupied with gawking at a statue of some cat headed deity. Frankly, given all we had gone through, Yukie was remarkably calm, interested even but I suppose when you're raised by a hunter of fish demons after your parents have been murdered it's either go mad or go along with it. Venturing to Egypt to seek out ancient vampires lost in the sand was probably akin to a normal weekend for vampire hunter Yukie. Hell she was from Japan, in training to deal with aquatic monsters she'd probably encountered Godzilla and Manda, much more serious foes than Mukhtar and his mummies.
I turned my attention back to V.V as she rose slowly from an elegant bow all while keeping her face upright and facing the prince, her chest out and her bum perked in Strauss' face. It was amusing to see the wizard king suddenly unfocused as he tried and failed to stopped staring at the admirable derrière before him. Isaac by comparison had adapted a cool exterior though I knew he had to be boiling with rage seeing one of his Anarch followers bowing before a prince.
"Your highness," V.V addressed him a smooth voice, "you must forgive me, it's been a long time since I've been in the presence of a prince, it's put me a state of awe but that doesn't mean I should forfeit manners."
Sebastian scoffed and fumed so loudly at this I thought he'd start choking.
V.V let out a tittering giggle that sent a tingle up my spine and had me wondering what it was doing to the heterosexual men around us. I glimpsed at a few of the guards and saw them openly gawking at the redhead, mouths agape and eyes wide.
"You must know that it's most girls' fantasy to find themselves in a royal court at the mercy of a handsome prince."
Mukhtar clenched the white marble arms of his throne tightly with both hands as he leaned forward and raised his bushy black eyebrows curiously. "Mercy?" he echoed quietly as he looked alarmed.
V.V raised a hand to her lips to subdue another giggle. "Hmm perhaps just my fantasy," she retorted coyly.
I heard a few gasps and exclaimed curses from our guards.
"Does she make much money prostituting herself for you Isaac?" Sebastian sneered.
His answer was Strauss sweeping his feet out from under him and sending him ungracefully to the floor. I had always imagined Strauss above physical combat and was a little disappointed to see he didn't fight with a pointy hat and a wand.
Sebastian hit the floor loudly in a flurry of curses in his colourful French.
"What is your name?" Mukhtar queried as he ignored the childish display between Sebastian and Strauss.
"I'm Velvet Velour," V.V introduced in a husky voice, "call me Velvet."
"Sounds like what I wore in the eighties," Christabelle remarked mockingly.
Hmm did the redheads clash? Must be the fiery personalities and all that.
"And why have you and your companions come here Velvet?" Mukhtar asked gently.
"To explore," she confessed, "but that is something I should let my companion Beckett tell you about, the dead histories of a lost world do not excite me, I prefer to enjoy the present. I come to see the beauty of this land."
Mukhtar nodded. "And I should be glad to show you the beauty although I wonder if it could impress a Toreador lovely as you," he murmured.
Sebastian cursed again in French from the floor where he sat inelegantly.
"Beckett, a familiar face," Mukhtar said happily, "will you explain your presence then?"
Beckett stepped forward, moving around Isaac to stand before V.V though he made sure not to eclipse her loveliness from the prince's sight. "You know I'm a Noddist, I study lore associated with Caine," he explained. "Egypt is an ancient land and often I find myself driven to explore its secrets in the hopes of finding a sign of our forefathers. Once again, my studies have led me to believe there is perhaps evidence of some antediluvians to be found in Egypt not far from Cairo. I ask for permission to carry out my studies unhindered and I promise anything I find that does not prove of value to discovering more about the nature of of Kindred shall go to the Museum of Cairo."
"Now, now," Aristotle interrupted as he hurried forward, "do not be so hasty. Human history is as important as Kindred, we started that way after all! And perhaps the Kine's history will tie in with the Kindred and why should Cairo have it all? Egypt is more than Cairo. All the impatience of youth, offering up what you have not yet found," he scolded. "Why can't you be wiser? A wise old owl lived in an oak, the more he saw the less he spoke," he rhymed. "Hmm no, was it the owl? Ah but the owl was at sea," he rambled, "took some honey and plenty of money, good sense that, money is important for negotiating, often wealth buys peace but you didn't bring much of that did you? Imagine a Gangrel relying on charm," he sneered.
I frowned at my sire and complained, "you are a meanie sometimes and I don't like you."
"Are you all here to explore for some lost treasures?" the prince pried with a doubting gaze. "And are the treasures so trivial? Usually you come alone Beckett, why do you need so many people?"
"The Caitiff prince fulfils a prophecy," I murmured, "to stave off danger many of the clanless must come, sacrifice the many to save the few." I skipped forward to the others, shoving my way between Strauss and Sebastian before kneeling down to help the ever fallen prince. "You tumble too many times Sebastian," I teased with a smile, "perhaps someone should help you up once in a while."
He made a half-hearted effort to shrug me off before allowing me to tug him to his feet again.
I held his left arm loosely in my hands as I fixed my gaze on our host once more. "Sebastian here has fallen from Los Angeles, cast down like the angels. There are uprisings everywhere, a ripple of unease across the bloodline of the Kindred. Maybe if we look to our history we can save our future."
Mukhtar's brown stare filled with unease briefly before he murmured darkly, "Malkavian. I never know if it's some distorted truth with your kind or madness."
"Do you feel the wind of change?" I queried.
Christabelle let out a giggle surprisingly us all. "Sorry," she said as she caught her master's unimpressed glower, "but that's what that idiot was singing earlier."
"Pardon?" Beckett quipped in puzzlement.
"It's a song," Ash scorned, demonstrating that he hadn't turned mute for the evening, "an old one."
"Define old," Beckett said carefully in a show of irritation. I didn't need our blood bond to know that Aristotle had pushed him to the edge.
"I meant to sound mystical not musical," I lamented. "Anyway, if you feel the aura of doom and gloom then you know I'm not lying, it's all there in the Malkavian manual isn't it? If we all feel it, it's a message on the web, if only one feels it then maybe it's just a voice or a playful imp." I shrugged and started swinging Sebastian's arm back and forth. "One prince down, how many more to go? Clanless cat children on the sands of L.A, now the sands of Egypt too. We have few weapons and come as a mixture of Anarch and Camarilla, what harm can we bring by exploring the desert?"
"We barely get on amongst ourselves as we have demonstrated," Strauss remarked, "our alliance is for the purpose of study only. Surely this should assure you that we cannot possibly be organised or united enough to strike against you?"
"Hmm, that is an odd way of putting it," Mukhtar remarked as he looked at us all in turn. I hoped his judgement wouldn't be to slice us in half, I was in no mood for magician tricks. "You will stay for the day," he decided, "the morning is early, dawn remains a few hours away, time enough to discuss things in a more pleasant format. We shall feed together and then you shall all take quarters here for the day, if I am satisfied that your intentions are scholarly and not war based then you shall have my permission to go about your business."
"Our thanks for this generous offer of hospitality," V.V spoke up quickly before anyone else could.
"Would you let go of my arm!" Sebastian snapped at me crossly as he tried to jerk his limb free. "What the hell did I do to deserve you?"
"Really?" Isaac remarked sardonically in an icy voice. "Do you not recall dominating her into suicidal missions to Sabbat dens? Or falsely imprisoning her and depriving her of vitae and company? My wonder is why she and Kent compel me to allow you to keep your head on your shoulders!"
V.V forced a laugh at this. "Isaac how you jest when you're angry." She turned her attention back on the prince. "Perhaps a lady could find somewhere to freshen up, maybe I could even borrow some suitable clothing for dinner? It just wouldn't do to appear so dishevelled at a royal banquet." She gestured down to the tight, red silk shirt that was unbuttoned low and the equally tight, black shorts she had donned for our travels, along with black stilettos.
"Who amongst us is the lady?" Sebastian sneered.
"Well you screamed like one when Isaac opened the train while it was still moving," Ash remarked sullenly. Funny, he had so much hate for Isaac but for V.V he was always the caring brother.
"Christabelle," Mukhtar spoke up in a deep voice, "please escort our guests to quarters where they may prepare for dinner, see that they are provided with clothing as suits them and adequate coffins for sleeping in."
"No sarcophagi?" I quipped with a frown.
"What about us wonderful ghouls?" Romero queried. "Hate to be a pest about it but I'm not up for the blood feast or the coffins." He had used the word 'ghouls' deliberately and moved to stand beside Yukie. I supposed it wouldn't do for our host to learn she was actually a monster hunter with no blood ties to any of us.
"Christabelle will find quarters for you as well and see you are sent food befitting mortals," Mukhtar replied. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and Christabelle stepped forward to resume the role of guide.
"Well folks," she addressed us merrily, "this way then."
I'm not so sure if Mukhtar Bey is actually a Camarilla, he's listed as a prince but his allegiance is Independent, so I guess if he's not he's just too polite to correct Strauss.
I know it's been a while, I was off getting married and honeymooning, part of which was in L.A no less! I got to see the Santa Monica pier and Museum of Natural History in person, it was great.
Apologies to fans of Heather, Rob and Damsel but I wanted V.V and Ash back in this and I just couldn't juggle that many characters in one go. Plus, the way I write Heather I didn't think she would really cope with all of Kent's mental woes as of late despite the blood bond, I think she'd be getting depressed with him so he decided to do the right thing and free her from the bond.