Chapter 7: The Moonlit Interlude
1. A Wounded Heart
Vince sat alone on the apartment balcony, staring out at the city's fading brilliance as dawn approached. The night's events replayed in his mind - the raid on VitCorp, the brutal retaliation against the Anarchs, their desperate strike against the Ivory Tower itself. Such violence left casualties on all sides. The ashes still in the air.
Behind Vince, Jeanette slept fitfully on blood-soaked sheets. After her haven was torched, he had brought her back here, his sanctuary hidden deep in the decaying Hollywood sprawl. She was healing physically at least thanks to vitae syphoned from Vince's own veins. But deeper wounds would linger.
He should rest too before sunrise. But sleep was elusive, his thoughts refusing to calm down. So much chaos unleashed so quickly from those damning revelations. Like treating an infected wound, the purge brought relief but also acute pain.
The door creaked open behind Vince. He turned to see Jeanette there, wrapped in a blanket, watching him with a vulnerability she rarely revealed. Vince stood and embraced her gently.
"You should be recovering. Dawn is nearly here."
Jeanette rested her head against his chest. "As should you. But I know shadows haunt your mind tonight."
Vince sighed. "We opened the floodgates. Now the deluge cannot be stopped. I fear what the coming nights may bring."
Jeanette met his eyes. "This is merely the fever before the healing." She kissed his cheek softly. "We will survive this together. Don't think I have already given up."
Vince managed a small smile for her sake. "I didn't think so." He swept her up and carried her back inside as the eastern horizon glowed ominously. Their bed was an island amidst the uncertainty.
Against Vince's better judgment, he held her close as they both slipped into daytime torpor. But rest eluded Vince even in darkness. The solitary road was slipping from his grasp, as Jeanette began to grow on him. Emotions brought fresh fear to stalk him. If harm found her because of what he had done... He had never wanted to feel like this again.
The demon of helplessness clawed inside. He had not been strong enough before, when it mattered most. But the past could not be undone.
Whatever the cost, whatever he would have to do, he would not fail again.
As day smothered the city, Vince embraced his fears fully, then released them to silence. When strength failed, faith must suffice.
Come the dusk, he would be ready, unflinching. He had to be ready.
2. The Silent Comfort
Vince gradually awoke to darkness. Slowly the previous night's memories filtered back - the frantic activities after Jeanette's clinic had been torched, donating his vitae to help her wounds heal. She now rested peacefully beside him, her injured body and mind withdrawn to heal.
Vince stilled his own restless mind to avoid disturbing her torpor. His thoughts occupied with plans for tracking down the attackers and making them pay. But revenge would have to wait - tending to Jeanette's recovery came first.
Vince quietly inventoried his haven's sparse supplies for anything to aid her. Blood bags, gauze, pain medicine. He gently cleaned and re-dressed her wounds, whispering soothing words when she unconsciously flinched. Protectiveness welled up, surging to fill that hollow yearning for companionship carved out so long ago. Even as a lone wolf, his Gangrel blood yearned for companions.
With Jeanette cared for, Vince methodically repaired the battered door, he had broken down in his rush to tend to Jeanette's injuries. The manual task eased his spinning thoughts, grounding him in the present. By the time he finished, night had fully fallen over the city.
He settled onto the balcony to watch the moon. The cool air was comforting, the isolation familiar. Out there, factions still waged war to protect their politics of pride and lies. But within these walls, simpler truths held sway. Here Vince could defend something real - not causes or power, but life.
Behind him, soft footsteps stirred. He turned to see Jeanette silhouetted in the bedroom doorway, haloed by moonlight. Without a word, she joined him at the railing, blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned in for support. Together they looked out over the contradiction of this neighborhood - derelicts and discarded lives just down the block from Hollywood's blinding glamor.
"It's peaceful here," Jeanette murmured finally. Vince simply nodded.
After a long silence, she placed her hand over his where it gripped the railing. "Thank you, for everything you did tonight. I owe you my life."
Vince covered her hand with his. "There are no debts between us."
She studied his face. "Your true reveals itself in action, when you think nobody is watching. It's your great strength, little wolf."
Unsure how to respond, Vince just squeezed her hand gently. She moved closer, keeping vigil with him as the moon traversed the sky and the city's restless life force pulsed on.
For this rare moment, the future could wait. The present was blessing enough.
3. Passion's Plea
Vince rinsed blood from his hands, watching the vitae spiral down the drain. He had spent the early night acquiring more medical supplies to continue caring for Jeanette's injuries. She remained under the day's spell, but when she awoke, Vince would be ready.
He re-entered the quiet bedroom to check on her. Jeanette lay serenely still beneath the sheets. Though her wounds were knitting together, seeing her lovely face marred by bruises and cuts flooded Vince with impotent rage at whoever had ordered this brutality.
But vengeance had to wait a little longer - Jeanette's recovery came first. Vince silently cursed his helplessness then. As much as he wanted to confront their attackers directly, he knew his place was here protecting Jeanette as she healed. Still, patience had never been his strength...
To keep himself occupied, Vince sat at the room's small desk and reviewed his notes on the different factions now at war across LA. There amidst the chaos lay opportunity to find who was behind everything. Giovanni wasn't the mastermind, Vince was sure about that. There had to be more to the drug. Because... why would Giovanni risk the Masquerade? He wasn't part of the Sabbat. The Sabbat was gunning for Giovanni too, even if they were part of the distribution of the drug. It was a real mess.
It had been the right thing to do, exposing the lies and bullshit coming from the Ivory Tower. But it also made investigating harder.
A faint sound stirred him from contemplation - the sheets rustling as Jeanette shifted. Vince moved to sit on the bedside, taking her hand gently so she would sense his presence. Her eyes fluttered open, cloudy and unfocused before finding his face.
"There you are," she sighed. "I was afraid it was only a dream..."
Vince squeezed her hand. "I'm here. Rest and recover your strength."
"My strength is returning now that you're near." She sat up slowly, wincing slightly. Vince moved to offer support but she waved him back.
"I must stand on my own. Even if all I wish is to collapse into your arms..." Jeanette took a deep breath and rose gracefully, clutching the bedpost for balance. "There. Much improved."
Vince hovered nearby, ready to catch her if she faltered. But Jeanette remained upright, gazing at him with unguarded hunger.
"Why so distant, when we both desire..." She extended a hand.
Vince took her hand, hesitating. "You need healing, not complications. But I see you are doing better. You just can't stop yourself from teasing me."
"Is this complicated?" Jeanette asked softly, pulling him closer until they were face to face. "Your heart knows what your mind refuses to acknowledge."
She caressed his cheek with her free hand. Vince felt his control faltering. But deeper fears held him back from surrender.
"I don't trust my control tonight," he admitted thickly. "You deserve more than savage hunger."
Jeanette placed a finger over his lips. "I want all that you are. Do not deny yourself." Her kiss seared with an unspoken promise. Against his caution, Vince's body responded hungrily. Still he tried to hold back, wavering on the precipice. But her tender authority would not be denied.
Jeanette drew him down to the bed, their forms intertwining seamlessly. Vince felt lost, but found himself very quickly in her embrace.
4. The Secret Tryst
Vince gradually resurfaced to awareness wrapped in fresh sheets. For a moment he thought last night a fever dream, until soft breathing stirred beside him. Jeanette lay nestled against his chest. Vince stilled himself to simply savor this rare peace, afraid to wake her and break the spell.
But her eyes soon fluttered open to meet his. "You stayed," she murmured.
Vince brushed back an errant curl from her face and bit back the sarcastic response that came to his mind. Instead he spoke softly. "I will stay as long as you'll have me."
Her answer was to pull him into another kiss. Vince responded in kind, all restraint had been burned away last night. For these precious moments, the world was reduced to only this bed and each gasping breath between them.
But duty eventually drew them up from passion's depths. Vince peeled himself away before they became completely lost again.
"As much as I would love to, we have affairs to put in order before daybreak."
Jeanette sighed irritated. "Responsibilities are so dull. I would keep you here entangled ad infinitum." But her smile was resigned as she rose to dress. Vince pulled her close for one final passionate kiss before preparing himself.
Soon they were ready to depart into the night's uncertainty. But at the door, Jeanette turned back suddenly.
"A gift, so you will remember me fondly tonight."
She placed something in Vince's hand - a platinum lighter engraved with her initials in flowing script. He frowned slightly.
"Shouldn't I leave the gift? I have nothing so fine to offer in return."
Jeanette closed his hand around the lighter. "You have already given me all I need." She kissed the corner of his mouth lightly. "Until the next sundown, my wolf."
With graceful finality she slipped out to her waiting car, vanishing into the bustling city. Vince watched thoughtfully until long after the taillights faded. In his pocket, the lighter's outline pressed against his leg. A promise for tomorrow.
Vince rode through empty downtown streets occupied only by heavy emotions that swirled in the night wind. A police siren Dopplered past, answered by a gunshot echoing from trash-strewn alleys. The nights seemed to grow more unsettled lately, matching the unrest in Vince's own soul.
Was this new entanglement wise, when every day drew violence and vengeance nearer? He had lost so much in the past. But Jeanette stirred desires and hopes he had thought long buried. A chance at life beyond this ceaseless war.
Vince shook off his misgivings as he drove through the night. Regret served nothing. Each night's risk brought possibility too - for beauty amidst brutality. Come what may, some chances were worth the leap.
After a long night out on patrol and following the few leads Vince had, he fell gratefully into bed as dawn's light seeped through a boarded window in the next room, Jeanette's lighter still clasped in his hand.
5. A New Dawn
Two days later, Vince opened his eyes to shadows. Another night's stillness settled over the city outside. Beside him, Jeanette stirred - a quiet joy he was still growing accustomed to. Vince gently swept aside a lock of her hair, admiring the elegant curve of her resting features. Hard to believe they had weathered so much strife together these past nights. But here they were, against all odds.
He slipped silently from bed to let her torpor continue undisturbed. A cold shower helped clear his head of lingering vertigo from their shared vitae-drinking earlier. He could still taste her essence mingled with his own as he dressed and prepared weapons for the coming hunt.
The Anarch agents had reported increased mob activity on the East Side docks. Likely the Sabbat regrouping for retaliation after recent Anarch victories. It was time Vince went on the offensive himself to keep their enemy distracted.
But as he reached for his motorcycle keys, a noise gave him pause - the soft creak of an opening door. Vince looked to see Jeanette wrapped in a satin robe, watching him silently from the bedroom doorway. He froze, suddenly unsure.
"I tried not to wake you," he said carefully.
"I know." She glided forward until only inches separated them. "Part of me wished to remain in dreams. But the greater part could not bear you riding into danger without me."
Vince weighed his response. He wanted to shield her from further hardship. But her cool determination was impressive.
"Your strength still returning-" he began gently.
"Then it will, at your side." Jeanette took his hands in hers. "You forget - I am more than just a damsel in distress. Apart, we are merely dancers each measuring our small steps. United, we may outpace even the chaos that comes our way."
Vince nodded slowly, acknowledging her strange wisdom. He guessed it came with the territory, when you were with a Malkavian. She rewarded him with a fierce kiss, then turned to dress for the night.
Soon they raced into the night astride Vince's bike, the city's restless energy enfolding them.
A new night in Los Angeles awaited. So did the docks and the Sabbat.